View Issue vol. 10, no. 8
ISSN 2369-6516 (Print)
ISSN 2369-6524 (Online)
Select the author’s name to view a short biography (if supplied) and all poems by that author.
LeeAnn Wallage Brown – Imprinted
Normand Carrey – The Cathedral Fig Tree
Marilyn Challis – Gift Haiku for Mother Nature
Harry Garrison – Symbols And Signs
Jari-Matti Helppi – Flittering Truth
Breton Lalama – she told me do it for the story
Scott Lynch – O
Harry Wayne Mah – shhh… pub in.action
David Mac Eachern – In the Making
Jenna Pierson – Too Long at the Fair
Jasmin Stoffer – Home: a Meditation
Ian Thomson-Mckinnon – Metaphysics
All day I hear the sound
of tape being pulled off a roll
as my neighbour packs his things in the hall.
Another of the “oldies”
is moving out as our new landlord ups the rents 30
percent, in this town
gone lunatic making money.
Downtown is mostly
student housing now,
and old wood houses
under tall trees are being jigged into air b&b’s
by the clever landlords.
Cranes are everywhere
as towers go up high,
all metal and glass.
They all look alike.
Seldom a graceful wood
detail among them.
And the oldies? They flee
reliably to the outer burbs,
where malls spare you
too many sidewalks. A bus
chugs along every half-hour.
The rents are 20 percent lower.
For now.
Flittering Truth
Poem by Jari-Matti Helppi
I saw a truth once.
It flittered past me as I tied my shoe.
I stood up from the effort
and asked myself why I don’t buy loafers?
That’s when the truth flittered by.
Didn’t ask a thing or wag a finger.
It just flittered and was gone.
Respite
Poem by Justin Pettipas
He leaned against a tree
And tried to share its relief at the rain.
With the flick of his lighter
The tree gave a shudder.
So he made a quiet apology
At the start of his cigarette.
The smoke hung in the air
Like a ghost umbrella.
When the clouds had dried up
He said thanks and moved on.
Acoustic
Poem by Cynthia Taylor
I forgot who I was.
I forgot
the sound my soul made
I forgot
that feeling that used to pulse
Acoustics
strumming inside my head
Drums
seeming to order my heartbeat
Melody
directing my soul
Emotions
rippling as if sound waves
Emanating
from where I hadn’t felt in years
Erasing all
lost time, tears and fears.
For this
moment in time I am who I was
So many
years ago before
I forgot
the sound my soul made
she told me do it for the story
Poem by Breton Lalama
we were flying over hollywood and i swore
i saw your name in star lights
i took a bite out of the clouds
because your voice kept
echoing against the smooth parts
of my skull
“do it”
you said
“do it for the story”
i swallowed cotton to write you gold
i hope it tasted like your shine
i hope you still pour cream into your
coffee
still look sideways at
bright lights
i hope whoever’s kissing you is doing
it right
i left bruises like breadcrumbs across
your collar bones so whoever
came after me would know
the path to your home
coming, baby
Home: a Meditation
Poem by Jasmin Stoffer
As guru(s) say
We are all journeying forward
Today and tomorrow we remain
Presently,
I sit next to you
Even if we are far away
And you don’t know me we connect
Mindfully,
Our souls are
Connecting and to be here now
Is to love so deeply
Compassionately,
Through the fog of
Ambition and greed and corruption
I hear you I listen
Quietly,
Sit down on the
Cushion do you hear me
Breathing in light and passing it on
Serenity,
I would like very much
To help walk you home
If you’ll have me wholly and
Completely.
Metaphysics
Poem by Ian Thomson-Mckinnon
Existence is structured
From Concepts
to breathing
When dreaming exposure
to insight and feeling
There’s colours
Religion
They swerve intermingle
There’s blood on the table removal is certain
Tapestry of sky
Woven to structure
There’s time within patience
There’s time within sound
Existence is structured
From concepts
to breathing
Ideals of good are inherently fleeting.
cherub faced dynamo
ebullient
alive
radiating energy
like the Shai Hulud*
eyes portals to sprightly wonders
unseen
diminutive
ailurophile
inquisitive
fickle
listicle Lolita
trying to control her world
piercings all but healed
balancing on the cusp of maternity
vivacious
seeking meaning and place
ready
with all her being
to be
* Dune, Frank Herbert
October Maples
Poem by Rod Stewart
A crimson ocean,
Of quivering butterflies,
Whispering beneath
Autumn’s brisk breath.
A chandelier,
Hung with ten thousand shards
Of stained glass,
All ablaze
With day’s last glimmer.
Cotton candy,
Puffed proud
With emerald, gold and rouge,
Eagerly licked
By frosty wafts.
Bonfires,
Spitting wild sparks
Aloft into azure,
Before fizzling
Asleep to grey.
The Cathedral Fig Tree and a dirty little story
Poem by Normand Carrey
-Behold the Cathedral!
Gaze up and admire its lofty branches-
A site to rival the adjectival heavens!
Can this be the same prepossessed fig
With its elaborate strangling system
In the common habit
Of this kissing family of trees?
A rich resource within the cathedral,
Red fruit, fleshy leaves threaten
To become an expensive proposition,
As Hi-ways slice thru maculate forest.
When seedlings become too large
Oedipus outstripping its nutrients
Waits around, favours the moment
While others encircle the host,
Making me lose my power.
The fig’s prolific growth, inevitable;
All potential evil resides in a seed
A few millimeters in the traditional land,
The Dulgubunda name this tree gularl.
We loved you like a prodigal son,
Hidden in the perils of any human heart
The cycle in the cathedral repeats itself,
Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness
Symbols and Signs
Poem by Harry Garrison
These crossed swords
mean a battle was fought here.
These crossed utensils
mean a meal can be bought here.
This sign points
to fuel to fuel your way.
This sign points
to a place where you can stay.
shhh… pub in.action
Poem by Harry Wayne Mah
It’s hard, being God.
I really don’t think I’m
……….doing a very good job of it.
I keep forgetting.
In fact, I’ve so often sold my birthright
……….for a bowl of stewed lentils,
the very idea has come to seem preposterous.
It’s like I’m afraid to go through with it.
(There he is, hiding backstage,
……….playing on his phone.)
I mean, who wants to die?
Being God is hard.
Imprinted
Poem by LeeAnn Wallage Brown
You are my day
Forever staining my memory.
The Father.
The Love
Imprinted on me.
Vision blurred with tears.
Clothes packed in a noir bag of plastic.
Toothbrush removed from our cabinet.
Imprinted on me.
Time spent on my knees
BEGGING! SCREAMING! PLEADING!
Imprinted on me.
My heart wanting to burst from a fragile chest.
Placing it in his hands.
Letting it bleed out so I no longer feel
Pain.
Terror gripping at me.
Paralyzed my body in fear.
Imprinted on me…
Too Long at the Fair
Poem by Jenna Pierson
All the music has stopped playing.
I have sat too long here,
Filled my glass too many times,
And emptied it.
The faces are too close to me,
blurred strokes of paint against the black night,
and their voices are wavering and thin
and all woven together like morning traffic.
I can’t make them out.
My makeup falls from my face in flakes of gray.
My armour is rent, my defenses fallen.
I wait.
It will all be over soon.
All the music has stopped playing now.
Gift Haiku for Mother Nature
Haiku by Marilyn Challis
Tropical breezes,
Whispering Summer goodbyes,
Jack Frost here too soon
In the Making
Poem by David Mac Eachern
Heading away at the break of day
Many good times do come and go
Finding one’s way to earn full pay
Every dream lived planted more to grow
A measured distance, life traveled with persistence
Meant to see forever the brighter side
In gift or talent, truth has consistence
Under darkened sky many stars do guide
Sent to attain the facts of life
In pleasure not pain, wise purpose remained
Driven by plan, a victory over strife
Worthy of mention, love to be gained
Vibes
Haiku by Richard S. Payne
Songs are energy,
you and I are vibrating,
don’t stop the music!
Open Heart Forgery 