June 2018


View or Print Issue vol. 9, 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 all poems by that author.

Nicole Flemingallan

M. L. GaroutteYou & I

Harry GarrisonRest and Entertainment

Noelle HalefDear Mrs. President

Brian HardingAlone in a Hotel Room

Scot JamiesonNot Members

Samuel KeefeHolly-lynn

Kimberly M. KingEach Braided Bit, a Story

Brian Lomax have you ever had the blues so bad

Scott Lynchtaken for grant (ed)

David Mac EachernBreathing Heart

Laureli Morphy Isn’t it nice?

Roz MorrisUntitled

Nicole Myers Muddler

Michele Roberts I, Moth

Nathaniel S. RoundsThe Session

Julie SmithMissed Call

Rod StewartPansies

Kay WynneFriends

Emily YoungOrange Matrix Lily

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have you ever had the blues so bad
Poem by Brian Lomax

have you ever had the blues so bad
that it calls out your name
well, let me tell you sister
it can drive a man insane

there’s nothing in this world
that can take away the pain
it’ll rip you wide open
like a dirty driving rain

the blues is like a magnet
holding on to you
keeping you from being
what’s inside of you

its lies it will call you
its tears will stain your face
the blues don’t care about you
you’re just its hiding place

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Poem by Roz Morris

Is it sufficient
That I’m efficient?
I have a suspicion
That it isn’t.

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I, Moth
Poem by Michele Roberts

Drawn to a flame
I, moth, flutter
Driven by desire
To the heat

In the closeness
Expose fragile wings
To feel the intensity
Of light given

Feverish in desire
To be enfolded in warmth
The moment flown
A butterfly cries

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Poem by Nicole Fleming

A warm house,
the oven is on,
I walk into the bedroom
and it smells like him.
I lean over the boiling water
and feel a whisper
of who I used to be.
Steam rises and cauliflower
I have stood in many old kitchens,
rain outside,
wondering who I’m meant for.

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Each Braided Bit, a Story
Poem by Kimberly M. King

Such roots as I have
are woven into a nest borne with me
from place to place.

Delicate and fiercely capable, both;
It can bear the wild whip-crack of rain
until it passes and meanwhile remember
the cool sun-filled winds that will come
to dry and fresh bless this home
that has grown with me; each braided bit
having told its story, adding to height or girth
or the number of windows and doors.

Windows and doors:
There are more of those now, affording a freedom
of movement within and with-out.

I have learned too
that once set into their jambs,
they can both help keep the rain at bay
while also letting
the light, the light, the light
And the birdsong of neighbors; and
the whispers between moon and comet.

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Isn’t it nice?
Poem by Laureli Morphy

Isn’t it nice when the rain is falling,
Making sounds like fingers tapping
Cozied up with a blanket and a book
Fireplace warming you up.
Isn’t it nice when the thunder booms
Looking out your window sleepily
Lightning bright as snow.
Isn’t it nice at night, you go for a walk
You see all these places, full in the day,
Yet in the middle of the night
They seem so empty,
They seem so normal
Isn’t it nice to appreciate
Everyone in your life
They do so much for you
And they’re only with you once
So smile when you can
Isn’t it nice to live

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Poem by Rod Stewart

When you smile for me
Through all that may,
Whether bright blue skies above
Filled with flitting song
Among popcorn puffs,
Or woolen grey
That soaks the earth
With circled tears,
Your rainbow blush
Of petalled bouquet
Rouses my robin cheer
To kiss the air
And dance on breeze,
Swelling heart
With Spring
And Summer soon!

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The Session
Poem by Nathaniel S. Rounds

I made an albumen print
from egg whites left
From this morning’s breakfast

It was the portrait of you
Taken just when the sun had declared itself
And had sung its own praises
Through the dining room window

It was finished in gold tone
And there you are
Glaring from a wood frame
Anxious for the session to be over
So that you can make breakfast

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Alone in a Hotel Room
Poem by Brian Harding

Sitting alone I glanced across the room
Opposite stood a Mirrored Closet door.
When I moved to get my drink
I saw you, you smiled, I smiled back.
You raised your drink, as I did mine.
From that moment on…
I knew I was not alone.

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taken for grant (ed)
Poem by Scott Lynch

in my rush to university
to make a life of my own
to raise a family
to do good
to prove I’m not him
and more than a military brat
missing in my haste the truth
a gentle man
though you’d not see it
he wearing the mask of men
quick to boil
but loving
always ready to conjure reality
in a positive light
ready to paint the truth
stretching for a positive outcome
swift with a story
always a laugh
hard not to like
because you end up loving him
and you know he cares
regardless of what he’s done
good with the doing
regardless of the details
ready with a hug
wanting things to go well
bellicose, belligerent, boastful
but kind
an appetite for life
with passion and mirth
ever the showman
always my dad

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Dear Mrs. President
Poem by Noelle Halef

You should’ve been
elected a long time ago,
I hope your choices
will change the world
and make it truly
great again.

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Rest And Entertainment
Rectangle Poem by Harry Garrison

Sleep isn’t just a way to become less sleepy. It’s a voyage as well, featuring an in-flight movie, or, more truly, several movies, making precious little sense, to entertain us during our restorative spell.

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Not Members
Poem by Scot Jamieson

Sunday morning, down on The Arm,
a big April snowstorm to arrive
that afternoon, the waters cold and grey,
looking down from the balcony
of St. Mary’s Boat Club,
the unmerciful yet invigorating
north wind pulling on the flags,
one red and white, one blue and white,
each frayed by the wind,
hundreds of houses in sight
but no other person,
and a stillness spread far,
without even a distant traffic sound,
I thought: of all I see,
I most identify with the wind,
something seen only by its effects.
I did appreciate the hard particularity
of everything, and the hard cold.
It kept back many crawly things,
and some diseases. And I liked
that we could go there without
being members, the wind and I.

Where is the shelter for a soul?
Where, the healer of a heart?
I notice the calmness of the air itself
hides the wind away, far inside
the silence of great distances.

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Breathing Heart
Poem by David Mac Eachern

Time spent to make one’s way
Free to choose, hope for best
Minutes reach the mark of day
Divine moments into love’s treasure chest

Faced with chance, plan to arrange
Chase a wish, find its fame
Growing through each passing change
Among a world, It’s no game

So into the picture cometh relief
What began has had its say
Practice made perfect, bliss not grief
Now to feel thy passion stay

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Poem by Nicole Myers

favored pursuits include (& are not limited to) appearing abstruse and perspicuous plummeting to turbid depths & resurfacing gregarious also enjoyed befogging stupefying & while they try to decipher my muddle my bungle gamboling headfirst into the subsequent swindle

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Orange Matrix Lily
Poem by Emily Young

Pushing through the Earth
against the cold

Your green shoot is hope

I feel your strength
Watch your growth
Wait for your beauty

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Poem by Samuel Keefe

Maybe one day
I’ll find the skyline
hiding in your eyeliner

with an infinitely deep iris
reflecting my face in a river
of mirrors

your eyes
leave me sipping saccharine
to see clearer.

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Missed Call
Poem by Julie Smith

they rage they yell
inside we all cringe
we cannot run
captive, held by these chains of the mind

they cannot see themselves
as we see them
spite, anger, contention
creates blinders

cycles of stress
cyclical oppression
of emotions which enrich
offerings of love are non
existent and eclipsed
these two

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You & I
Poem by M. L. Garoutte

You and I can both agree
to what we see out of these shapeless windows.
Which we thought were always square.
We were mistaken.
We were traveling down mole holes,
Dark & claustrophobic.
Getting more lost in stirring,
stirring in our proverbial Tree of Knowledge.
As if we lived in the Garden forever.
You were always like that,
dark but predictable.
We both looked onward-forward.
We thought down is up,
And up is down.
The night mocks the moon.
The day spits at the sun.
Dust laughs at us.
You were always like that.
Always inquisitive in these blood moon fields.
Fields in which we toiled and sweat.
They too will kill us.
Fields of murder-of laughter.
These windows mock you and I.
Dioramas of what we were taught.
Mirrors of ourselves.

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Poem by Kay Wynne

Friends we were in times gone by
We laughed and played as children do
Years passed and we wondered why
We thought we’d play our whole life through

Lives were changed, we went our separate ways
Families came and families grew
Missing each other throughout those years
Where my friend went I never knew.

But time is kind we surely found
Hearts soared when we met and then
Rediscovering our lives were bound
Friends rejoiced – as friends again.

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