View Issue vol. 10, no. 6
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.
Poem by Maximillion Archibald
of the Red Sea
is the Bible’s
be so bold
as to run
the water shelf
as you cross?
to see here
just the small
green hill outside
a dark blue tarp
Poem by Jim Hoyle
I like pajamas, pajamas are for me.
They’re easy and relaxing, comfy as can be.
PJs for sleeping; PJs for lounging;
not for carousing, just around the housing.
Some like shorts and a tee-shirt too,
but I like pajamas, red or blue,
or sexy black silky ones, clinging to your skin,
look very smart, they’re see-through thin.
Light in Summer, warm when it’s colder,
snuggle up tight, shoulder to shoulder.
Baby-dolls for some, or a pretty nighty;
then you’ll think you’re with Aphrodite.
All being said, it ain’t all bananas,
‘cause I just told you, I like pajamas
Survivor by the Sea
Poem by Kathy Hamidovic
I hide many eras in my belly. My children,
Keep building me up despite my age.
My clogging arteries, they still keep flowing.
My timepiece holds such history in its hands.
My heart is full of hidden chambers. My nature:
Explore my limits to know my growth.
My arm reaches out to greet each sunrise.
I stand steady; my body: both fluid and stone.
Poem by Cybel Sweetgrass
Me, the little chickadee, I was always around,
But you, seldom laid eyes on me
Taken by your over-busy lifestyle,
You did not pay much attention to me
One day, you slowed down your pace,
And we suddenly became friends
I have wings and even though you do not have any,
That certainly does not bother me
Friendship flies above appearances,
And above circumstances
Because now we have our morning rendez-vous
And we have weaved a beautiful friendship
You feed me well,
And I sing it to you so swell
We will always remember,
All our magical moments spent together
Poem by Jari-Matti Helppi
The creak of the rocking chair leg
against the throw rug by the dialogue fire,
and the glass of whiskey neat
stoking a reflective mind,
was soothing to Chopin’s vinyl
playing on its spinning complement
as a brewing tempest made itself known
by the shake of window blasts
rattling melodic piano keys of recorded art.
“Art repeats, life does not,” toasted the whiskey
as rocker’s music added chair creaks to wake
and the amber glass became more,
stoking a reflective mind
on sad passings of breath from ‘mortal coils’
and the happier brewing tempest shown,
as each we live and to the mist abide
while window blasts continue
rattling melodic piano keys of recorded art.
Poem by Mary Upton
Kinship ties ebb and flow
Like shifting sands become depleted
When pride and time assault these ties
And kinship love flows to demise
It is this death that we all mourn
And wonder why this shift has torn
Ties that bound us so securely
Yet now part us so assuredly
Can this love be rekindled?
For it is of such import
When life be short
To know these ties
Once adrift, take shift
And come ashore
To unite us, in kinship joy once more
July at the Lake
Poem by Scott Lynch
like a gentle waterfall
clouds wispy and playful as apparition
even the jet stream’s importance is transitory
cricket and dragonfly rule the land and air
while crows cast aspersions of unrest
soon a solitary eagle
bald and brazen justifies
the crowing cacophony
in a lightening swoop and splash
talons direct a now flying fish
eagle and crow fly out of sight
and the allusion of falling water
returns with the breeze
Poem by Rod Stewart
Don’t get me on
About déjà vu,
My whole life
As it is,
Spinning in nothing
But circles inside circles,
Around and around
In a breakneck blur,
To get myself there
In time to see my shadow
Slip away into smoke
All over again.
I used to be pumped
To tear away wild,
To the dark side of nowhere,
Perched on a moonlit shoulder,
Among murmurs and moans,
Mixed among cricket songed air.
Hot breaths, cold asphalt,
City lights and stars
That blinked back at us,
All blown into dust
Of a memory, maybe,
That lingered longer
Than laid rubber and sweat,
On this one time go around
That we’ve been riding.
Go Fly a Kite
Haiku by Richard S. Payne
Love flying a kite,
and feeling God’s gentle tug,
a divining thrill!
Poem by LeeAnn Wallage Brown
What’s wrong? He keeps asking.
Wrong? You say.
Why, the mountains are still left to climb.
The rivers left to fish.
This agony is spilling from my guts.
Cutting me open. Spilling out empty words.
Do you call to me when the moon is home.
Stay and play where the sun warms my Earth.
Words are weapons that slice at my head.
Sticks and stones.
Breaking all my bones.
My muscles are weak. Left heavy.
Weighed down by rusty chains.
I need to escape the dragon.
With fiery breath.
My knight is no longer.
I am a damsel in this damn dress.
Poem by David Mac Eachern
Looking forward to mutual bind
Through word and visual art
Window opened, view of mind
Facing wilderness, the daring part
East granted sun to rise
Into eye of grazing deer
Brightening by plan, social cries
Sky over all, storm clear
Where picture of horizon shined
Wildlife adventure having its say
Exploring land, love to find
Beauty ranging each blossoming day
Poem by Melissa Boland
Neptune’s nectar pours
Like wine around a bowl
its legs lace my window.
Birds, animals, plants… Rejoice!
Humans, by contrast, wish for another choice.
“Wash Shoe!” Or Not To “Wash Shoe!”
Rectangle Poem by Harry Garrison
Ezra’s Instructions for Loving Without Bruising
Poem by Normand Carrey
Phase One (Bodies)
Think about Janis Joplin…
Now she was the greatest lovin an bruisin
Unfortunately medicated herself
to death with Southern Comfort;
Lower the entire weight of your body over mine,
Stay there for a while.
Don’t do anything, just relax.
Phase Two (in orbit)
Now let me pass my hands over your spine.
Apply your supple lips to mine.
Squeeze me, apply more gradual force,
Love is not only physical, (it is mental also).
Are you relaxed, is your fear going away?
(entering) Phase Three
Adjust your position,
Make yourself comfortable.
There’s a certain rhythm you need to focus on,
(like this, like music).
Phase Four (a collision)
Linger a few moments more;
Get off when you feel like it.
Stay in bed, relax, hold my hand
I’ll try not to bleed too hard, (next time).
Poem by Robert John Schwarzmann
Time, a fine mist, near-microscopic,
Primordial fog drifting in
From the cold grey sea.
Time, raindrops pattering
In microseconds, an urgent rhythm.
The swollen river of time
Always rushing forward,
Cresting its banks, carrying debris.
Finally, the slow oceanic waves,
Thundering onto shore and back.
Majestic, beyond time,
Existing without end.
Gift of Shadows
Poem by Gordon Young
It is light that throws
Upon the living, shadows.
Shadows cast upon us…
…Cast among us.
It is in the darkness of shadows
The soul dilates and grows.
This is the gift of shadows.
Let not wit or honest doubt
That which throws,
Upon the living,
For in the absence of light nothing grows.
pro cra$ti nation pro gressin’
Poem by Harry Wayne Mah