August 2017

cropped-ohflogo2r.jpgView Issue vol. 8, no. 5
ISSN 2369-6516 (Print)
ISSN 2369-6524 (Online)

You can also read the poems by scrolling down or clicking the titles.
Click the author’s name to view a short biography (if supplied) and other poems by that author.

Janet BrushLast Gift

E. M. CampbellSushi Date

Ella DodsonVexed by Words

David DuMemory

Piper DuquetteDeep Secrecy

Harry GarrisonMaybe We Should Call Them Page Rivers!

Jari-Matti HelppiThe Road

Scot Jamieson(17S ÷ 3L) = 1H (X 3 = ?)

Meghan JenkinsA Tired Mother’s Mantra

Alex JohnstonWhen You’re There

Scott LynchVexed

David Mac EachernHere to There

Harry Wayne Mahminke

Lorie MorrisBelieve

Steven OsborneLove in All

Graym StewartThe Flowers in the Garden

Mary UptonListen To Me

Laureen van LieropAllotment # 1

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Listen To Me
Poem by Mary Upton

Memories quivering
On the edge
Of a flailing mind
Like whispers wafting
In the wind
LISTEN TO ME

Where once was clarity
So sublime
Now reigns distortion
So unkind
LISTEN TO ME

And through the muddledness
Of my mind
Comes a gratitude of kind
LISTEN TO ME

For as light
Grows dimmer
Shadows shimmer
It is the end
My life has wend
YOU LISTENED TO ME!

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The Road
Poem by Jari-Matti Helppi

Oh the road, the road I now often walk.
Alone and free with thoughts
balancing toward a warm sun
bleaching my temporal spirit
with its indifferent offering.
I embrace the solitude with dedication
to a self lit dawn, forming meaning
from what may seem a futile place
to find the meaning thus.
I am clay feet torso’d to framing eyes
seeking, looking, finding
that which escapes the commonplace
and becomes the holy unique
which moves the impetus to carry on;
to touch and kiss life’s journey;
to know that all roads lead to the life of death.
I am walking toward the unknown,
free from the encumbered weight
of fallen memory.

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A Tired Mother’s Mantra
Poem by Meghan Jenkins

The clock on the wall goes
Tick tick tick
The nerve in my eye goes
Twitch twitch twitch
Your feet on the floor go
Tap tap tap
Three hours ago I laid you
Down down down
That you’re still awake makes me
Frown frown frown
All this extra caffeine hurts my
Head head head
Why won’t you please just stay in
Bed bed bed

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Vexed by Words
Poem by Ella Dodson
Sanity and sleep are aroynted,
Mind and memory hung by a widdy,
Oh, to be a dux in words
Like kydst, wynds, zek and zax.
Then I could swill exo vin, rax and chillax.
An alky, a lawyer easily addicted
To online Word, Lexulous and Scrabble.
Known symptoms include
Too much competition and too much babble.
Haunted, I rad the yad lest I forget
Aleph, bes, eta, chi, yod or vav
Dreams of zloty, jiao, pya, vatu, ecu or lev,
Being trapped in uni classes,
By profs’ rants on nomenclature
Of measures, slang and plants
Konning vocab of music and taxonomy.
Ach, these word games are a pox on me!
Where letters “J”, “K”, “Q”, “X”, and “Z” rate!
I learn words only to ern high points,
Not to gab or communicate!
Already a lawyer’s speech and text
Are littered with tangled terms of jus and lex.
Moderation, now there’s a good word!
Addicted, playing too often, is so absurd.
Life is for real words, joy and laughter
Shared with friends, to chat or converse
Using words just to win, is truly perverse.

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Here to There
Poem by David Mac Eachern

Making time pay, hearing wise people say
take a break, enjoin your passion’s play
Free to fly, star like passage prepared
glide on through, for a princess declared
World a stage, set for best act
old doors have closed, new scene intact
Verse unto verse, a life written book
cover to cover storyline, deep running brook
Thrill of it all, compacting no walls
in theory shall muster love’s incoming calls

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Vexed
Poem by Scott Lynch

throttling a sudden rage
ignited by the loneliness
of waking alone
ignoring the bliss of
birdsong
I wallow
stumbling into another
pensive morning
tranquility and wonder
ensnare my senses
or is it coffee?
and there she comes
shuffling slowly and radiant
speaking softly
‘why are you up?’
unapologetic
she glides back to bed
leaving me
the morning

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(17S ÷ 3L) = 1H (X 3 = ?)
Haiku by Scot Jamieson

Cardboard box. It sits
by the sidewalk, sign says FREE.
Look inside: empty.

Fun is free is fun.
And! Responsibility’s
not to be fun-free.

Let the past release
as the new engages you.
Futures feel you out –

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Deep Secrecy
Poem by Piper Duquette

I was there for your last rites.
I stood at the back of the church,
Wearing my blackest of black,
My wide brimmed hat obscuring my
Grief stricken expression.

My face was stained with tears
Spilled over the past few days
Regret, pain, despair and an
Unbelievable sense of loss.

I could not allow your family to see me,
Not one of them.
Our love had been hidden from the world.
There was you, me and deep secrecy.

I was there when they buried you,
Hidden in the shadows of an oak tree
I loved you.

Your love will stay with me till the end.
My love will follow you into the grave.

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The Flowers in the Garden
Poem by Graym Stewart

The flowers in the garden,
Share their joyful youth.
Scents from the heavens.
The aroma is the proof.
I pass you a daisy.
It shines bright and blue.
Blue turns to black.
Why must it be you?
Just like a cancer,
The flowers all dwell.
Searching for the answer.
Cursed by season’s spell.
Praying for some rain,
It’s just too sunny out!
Do you feel their pain?
And get what it’s about?
An eternity of pardon,
Subtle in its ways.
The flowers in the garden,
Remind me of better days.

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Maybe We Should Call Them Page Rivers! Rectangle Poem by Harry Garrison Maybe you’ve noticed (more than once), things that are not there on the page, from top to bottom, from side to side, meandering curves, near-perfect lines, made of empty space, between the text? They’re prominent, superb coincidence. Did a bookworm, slithering on its way, carve away one of these little rivers, that some small tall ships might sail? Do planets align (figuratively spoken) from time to time, creating a pattern? Can publishers or writers take credit? Do we notice them, then turn the page?

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Love in All
Poem by Steven Osborne

Love is like a river
Flowing merrily.
Then opening up
Into the deep blue sea.

Love is like an open door
Or like an open window.
Love is like many colors
That show up in a rainbow.

Love soars above the mountains.
Love brings light into the heart.
Everybody is connected.
Everybody plays a part.

Love is a deep feeling
In the depths of the soul.
Love comes from God
And makes a person feel whole.

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Allotment # 1
Poem by Laureen van Lierop

Cat on one shoulder
Chicken on the other
the gardener walks the paths.

Swaying cobs on corn stalks
Brassicas all curled up
The gardener tends the plants.

Sunshine; all are dozing
A threesome soaked in Earth.

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Believe
Poem by Lorie Morris

Believe, in good.
Believe, in hope.
Believe, in love.
Believe, in human kind.
Believe, in you.
Believe, in family.
Believe, in all.
Believe, in what is right
for you!

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minke
Haiku by Harry Wayne Mah

grim whalers afloat
twenty minutes oxygen
hide stinky minke

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Memory
Poem by David Du
You tried calling her
The voice message told you
her phone is disconnected.
You don’t know how you can get ahold of her
you only understand how to hold her,
that can hold your memory,
that comes from another place
where you never know.

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Sushi Date
Lyrics by E. M. Campbell

I want someone to hold me
It would be nice to not eat alone
‘The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation’
So said Thoreau

But here I am antsy before it’s begun
Oh cast a spell before I run

But I’m afraid of Sunday morning pancakes
I’m afraid of minivans
I’m afraid of vinyl siding and first haircuts
Oh please don’t want to be my man

Oh here it ending before it’s begun
But hey a sushi date’ll be fun?

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Last Gift
Poem by Janet Brush
“Wait! Wait!”
I hear my name, turn around.
She puts a small card in my hand,
runs back to her shop.
I sold her what had been a gift from Tom –
I’d forgotten when.
The little card reminds me;
“Love and kisses, Tom” I wrote ‘Xmas 2006’.

Can that be right?
I remember nothing of that Christmas –
except the meal.
We toasted Tom’s life,
cried, laughed a bit.
There must have been a tree.
How did this gift get under it?
Did I buy it? Wrap it? Hold it
for him to write in?

Standing in the busy street
I read the little card
and my heart breaks again.

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When You’re There
Poem by Alex Johnston

When you’re there a deep disease.
Sweet nestled nursing nector.
Gentle tender, tangerine trees.
Glory gone, yet supple splendor.

Daydreams dark, forever long.
Away today; my mind escape.
Soon the fight to sing your song.
And return to bring familiar shapes.

Skeletal tower and darkened dare
Bone, metal, and crimson face.
Time to decide what skin to share.
Collecting pulse after endless race.

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