View Issue vol. 10, no. 3
ISSN 2369-6516 (Print)
ISSN 2369-6524 (Online)
Click the author’s name to view a short biography (if supplied) and all poems by that author.
Nicole Allison – Heart’s Flight
Rick Brison – Cross Country
Phil Brown – Expulsion
Mo Burchill – You Are
Normand Carrey – The Mouth of the River
Tim Covell – Elaborate
David Du – Listening to Rain
Harry Garrison – Time Travel
Jari-Matti Helppi – Senescence Cometh
Scot Jamieson – Lean on your sill
Nadia LaCroix – An afternoon at the lake
Scott Lynch – with a hammer
David Mac Eachern – Stellar Performance
Harry Wayne Mah – nEw . tOn ? chaiN.S
Mark Nicholas – My Darling Abigail
Richard S. Payne – Creativity
Rod Stewart – March On
Benjamin Young – The Green Man
Poem by Mo Burchill
You are bravery wrapped in silk linen
Stronger than sheet metal
Softer and more resilient than fur
Lighter than the light of the moon
But hold hard like ice burgs
You are kinder than most
More amazing than sparkles
You have the intelligence of the worlds
And a smile that brightens the sun
You are the strength of a million arrows
The hands you hold shape mountains
Molding buildings with your words
Shining through the tips of your fingers
You are more courageous than a lion
But are sweeter than any kind of toffee
Your lips are like sugar and white wine
You are braver than you know
An afternoon at the lake
Poem by Nadia LaCroix
It’s while watching
the ducks glide
In the middle
Of the heart shaped pond
Plucking at their wings
Chasing each other
Making me wonder
About the small pleasures
Like the taste of a soggy piece of bread
Or letting your bare feet
Touch the water
Of floating through life
Next to a wet partner
Knowing that being free
In the lazy heart
Is all that you need
My Darling Abigail
Poem by Mark Nicholas
Beneath the power of Love
There is more
Each breath you breathe
Lets out a life I cherish
Your demeanor always allows
Precious and kind
Are the words that cross your mouth
Eager to know
Passionate to teach
To me you’re the definition of
For every Ship
and for me it’s you
My Darling Abigail
Lean on your sill
Poem by Scot Jamieson
Purgatory is a factory
Where it’s always noon.
The roof is tin, the sun is hot
And you work til you sweat
And you keep on working, sweating,
Til sweat gets in your eyes–
They get to quit, whoever cries.
Limbo’s a dragger, offshore some,
Where the twilight lingers,
When the winds come down to die,
Towards either land or sea
And all things seen you see as dim
And this is how you stay
Til you drift home…or far away.
When night comes, it’s hard to say
If things have gotten worse.
There’s freedom from comparison,
You seem to have so much space
But human eyes can’t see in such dark
So it’s really hard to tell
What other kinds of eyes see well.
Is there a forever-morning time?
We all know how promises break.
Though, is there one that breaks like day,
The best time to awake?
The songbird is always singing in morning,
You can hear it if you’re still. You
Open your window, lean on your sill.
with a hammer
Poem by Scott Lynch
I’ve known loss
I’ve felt the avalanche of angst
when everything was beyond my control
when I was not strong enough to bear the pain
ready to rage
to lash out
ready to assign blame for the catastrophe
every nerve raw and ready
past perdition is not a happier place
a different place, yes
a step closer
not to nirvana
but to an end
time is not a gentle teacher
It’s blunt force trauma
Poem by Phil Brown
house smokes and steams its discontent
in a necklace of ice, in retreat, but still hard
eager to spit out the dwellers onto frozen mounds
craves to see them slide, and see them marred
while it huffs, puffs and creaks in unfamiliar sun
yearns for silence and isolation
nothing more than a calm of dust
nothing less than a creeping rust
along pipes and lines choked by muck and crap
looks forward to slowly sinking back
into dirt as yard turns back to bush
hesitant huddles of still snowbound trees look on
listen and you’ll hear the branch clap
as this once sanctuary slides down
the throat of its earthy trap
sun strengthens, snow starts to shrink
dark water circles the decayed memory
a frightened child’s puddle you might think
and the flesh dwellers surrendered to time
like the characters in a dark nursery rhyme
to melody and chords undeniably sad
expelled by this place they said had gone bad
Poem by David Mac Eachern
A party time, ever alive
Each passing day, another ride
Cruising along, joy by vibe
Friends for life, passionate pride
Musical air, breath in rhythm
Shower of emotion teeming through
Voices carry song among them
Floor filled with dancing shoes
How touching hearts show care
In pace to reach above
Such merry show with dare
All in zinc, share love
Poem by Rod Stewart
Surely it cannot be
So long until the days turn
With a coming promise,
Of warbling wing,
Pungent earthly waft,
And basking warmth,
Upon our pale cheeks
Like buds unfurling
From their woolen wraps,
While brazen youth
Goose pimpled pink
In all laid bare,
Bounce and bob reckless
Among the thawing throngs,
Of the elderly, ever reluctantly
Peeling away their buttoned gray.
Both jostling jubilant
Along sunbathed lanes,
With windows gleaming bright
Bursting bold with rainbow wares,
In this chase,
This ageless yearn,
Oh Glorious Spring!
The Green Man
Poem by Benjamin Young
I close my eyes, the cold is gone.
I think about you in the garden,
warm wind blowing up
past little earthy feet,
Pulling soft bright hair
around your cheek.
Pale love framed in joyous green.
I must be falling asleep.
It’s so warm in the sun, but that’s okay.
I’ll try to open my eyes, and stay.
The green behind you
waves up and down
a hushing gush through heavy wings.
Are you trying to fly?
Somewhere off in the woods a branch cracks,
a leaf scratches, and earth catches another
green child in a mossy cradle.
All around my sylvan crown,
I hear the rising lull.
In between the motions,
there is laughter,
Poem by Jari-Matti Helppi
Who the good, by decay of time’s mendacity
to settle scores from aged crimson mists,
where silent screams push past knives cutting carrots
stewing for well laid tables,
has not taken each spoonful of nourish
and angry insistence to darling their sates?
Who the good, by displays of hubris
to hold back gate stormers of smokey sin
where trebuchets fling fire orbs to knives
cutting carrots for well laid tables,
has not taken each to question nourish
and ask if this age is merely ages past.
Poem by Nicole Allison
Heart’s still beating Self defeated
I built a dam to stop the tears
from overflowing must have been
uncompleted on my face
If I could leave this familiar place I would
tonight and run far away into the night and
never look back and never know who I may
be leaving behind: Trying so hard to find
The One thing The Only thing
worth it all in the end
Love is a stairway to the stars
Heaven in someone’s arms
When will my heart take flight?
Will that true love arrive?
I guess it’s only a matter of time
I’m waiting hoping and praying
still standing in line trying so hard
to find what’s been lost
Going to take that flight and trying to
crawl out of this darkness into the light
In this life is love worth the trouble anymore?
Here I go towards that open door
what will I find? who will be there?
When I open the door to find that there
was a missing piece all it took was for me
to love again and a reason to believe
Sonnet by Tim Covell
“What’s the most elaborate length you’ve ever gone to for a hookup?”
– The Coast Annual Sex Survey
“I took the f–king 80 to Sackville once. Never again.”
– One of the responses
I take my pleasure always close to home,
Investing little time in travelling,
And yet, one day I chose to further roam,
Responding to a tweet appealing.
A direct bus could take me to their place,
I boarded, eager, but the trip was long.
I was not ready for the snail’s pace.
When I arrived, at last, the mood long gone.
I used my transfer for the journey back,
That says how little pleasure happened there.
While downtown might of lovers sometimes lack,
Riding the bus to Sackville is to err.
And yet, one day, if transit does improve,
I’ll touch once more the one whose tweets do soothe.
Poem by Rick Brison
Twin lines disappear over the rise
Follow them into the trees. My skis
Sliding rhythmically. Arms pumping. Breathing
Beauty captures me
I raise my eyes
The trees like fingers point to the sky and I
See God’s face through the sun-sprayed branches
The Mouth of the River
Poem by Normand Carrey
It meandered, lazily, here, there
No match for Ocean’s
Wave after wave; upon wave
Indian tide receding.
An old cousin
Younger than me
Who we hardly knew,
She lives in (Paul) Austral-ia
Talk to her, talk to her
the Voices inside me,
Juss keep talkin’ (Paul) to her.
From Teddy’s Look-out
The Winds buffet the cliff side
Gulls cartwheel and glide
Below : River at night
River of the morning
River in your dream
Before the blister of heat.
Crocs, hippos, Tony Bird
Troubadour sings-See how
her footsteps skip
Great Zambezi River
I think she loves someone.