View Issue as PDF vol. 14, no. 4
ISSN 2369-6516 (Print)
ISSN 2369-6524 (Online)
Scroll down to read all poems, or select the poem title to go directly to that poem. Select the author’s name to view a short biography (if supplied) and all poems by that author.
Tim Covell – Persistence of Vision
Scott Lynch – greensward ever so
Riley McAllister – Fear of Falling
Memel Pound – Things We Truly Own
Hayden Raymond – Letter to Trans Suicides
Violet Rosengarten – This Morning
Matthew Vanderkwaak – A Dried-Up Worm
Confession
Haiku by Harry Garrison
Objects stick to my
sweaty forearms as I type
at my cluttered desk.
A Dried-Up Worm
Poem by Matthew Vanderkwaak
How moist and inviting
this sidewalk seemed
before cruel Dawn with golden fingers
found you there
making your pilgrimage,
believing the night would last.
But no, you looked upon your god
face to face,
and She required an offering:
“I will take your water now,
In exchange for gazing on my beauty,”
She said, smiling and reaching down
with a rosy palm.
And you gave up your vapour there,
now crisp on the pavement,
a sign to all who wander,
midway between here and there.
Hana
Haiku by Valerie LeBlanc
A tropical drive
Sugar cane fields help guide us
East to haiku road
Fear of Falling
Poem by Riley McAllister
i feared when i fell for you
that you would try to climb back out
and you did
you slowly made your way to the top
while i kept falling
i hit the ground
you climbed out and ran
i laid down there
waiting for you
you still haven’t looked back
and now i’ve started climbing back up
Persistence of Vision
Poem by Tim Covell
We have a fault in the eye or the brain,
That lets us see movement in pictures still.
All of our movies and TV attain,
Illusion of motion where there is nil.
Were it not for this fault, another way,
Would have been found, one assumes, to make shows.
Beyond the technical, what does it say?
What do we learn from the lingering glows?
Whatever the sense, we should be aware,
That all that we note, is not really there,
It’s ours alone, to note more we must share.
And something remains after sight and sound,
Smell, taste, and touch have all faded to ground,
That stays with us though it cannot be bound.
Time Capsule
Poem by Bill Jones
Autumn hedges, cocooned verdigris
Ashy winters, cracked & gladed –
Bearded seasons ferment, misty dawn ceremony
Seeds of April sowing archived harvests
Summer stones blue branded by moonlight;
Light-years stitching blanched almanacs –
Railroad shavings – Trains clacking Sleepers over
Charred kernels of blind sparrow time
Magic sealed away with trinkets & infancy –
Dew falling as dusky hairs under kitchen clocks
Centipedal sinuous husks extricated root tendrils…
Decadent timber, hinged with mossy rinds.
Liminal Space
Poem by Gordon Young
It devours the day
When it comes to prey.
But then It never really goes away.
It scents unconnected dots
. . . . Threads of tattered thoughts.
It hunts best between
What is real and what is seen.
It waits with me on the line of in and out
In strobing certainty and doubt,
Impatient not to linger long
Playing at right and wrong;
Gazing into the here and the gone
No light no heat; no dark no cold,
Just it and me at the threshold.
No amount of praying,
No amount of saying
Will stall
What is about to fall,
Including me
And its pyrrhic victory.
For when possession kills its host
It too becomes a ghost
confectionary
Poem by Leah Woolley
time has gone bubbly, hours sticky
on the fingers, sunsets caramelizing
into a shining horizontal mass
sizzle pop of streetlights waking, sifting
glow onto each syrup-slow minute,
snow floating through the days like
flour puffed from an open bag.
Peccadillo
Poem by Nicole Myers
a heart turns
like an upset stomach
when fidelity is exiled
having
to defend your
artificial amusement
your erratic exultations
feels like inconsiderate
bereavement
a low kind of love
I watch you try to stir
fire w/ a wooden spoon
& succumb
while you burn
I weep
greensward ever so
Poem by Scott Lynch
past lady’s slipper majesty
and purple iris too
lupines hues extinguished
allium all but through
more verdurous than imagining
verdant my world renewed
olive pea & emerald
so many greens to choose
viridescent every vista
ombre every view
Refugee
Poem by Lorie Morris
Refugees, all need our help!
Refugees, are all in a bad way.
Refugees, need to know that they
matter. Refugees, we need to show them
that Canada cares. Refugees, is
where we all were, at one time!
Billy Collins
Clerihew by Janet Brush
Billy Collins is such a great wit
For all ages his poetry is fit
Even when Miss Dickinson he’s undressing
He’s a master of subtle finessing.
Departure
Haiku by David Du
Backpack like a kite
Floating, a place filling with
Mystery and wish
Letter to Trans Suicides
Poem by Hayden Raymond
in my dreams you wake up
to feed the cats, the dogs, or the fish
there’s a coffee made,
perhaps by a mother,
though probably not considering you left her only a note,
she may not have even kept it.
in my dreams you wake up in the morning
and smile at the mirror.
there’s a coffee made,
a lover or a friend in the kitchen
smiling gold through gaps in their teeth,
extra maple syrup poured all over pancakes.
in my dreams you don’t need to call the gay bar
and listen to laughter and cheers
over the bartender’s confused “hello?
hello, is there anybody there?”
is there anybody there?
is there anybody left?
is all that’s left people who want
the same thing you accomplished?Butterflies
Poem by Holly Currie
My stomach gets butterflies when you walk into the room
Making my heart beat faster,
My eyes wander in your direction.
You made me feel special for a short period of time,
Telling me I’m beautiful when I didn’t believe it.
You made me happy,
And I’ll always be thankful for that.
Green
Poem by Mikayla Marshall
I envy those who knew you when.
The ones who know how your story begins.
Deep conversations and real thoughts.
Late night opinions in your favorite spots.
Memories made; mistakes forgotten.
All the friends who saw you often.
The ones who played a part.
Isn’t it silly?
To wish I knew you from the very start.
Book Store
Poem by Oliver Robinson
Prisms lined with paper-backed books,
shopping for ideas like stopping for
milk, eggs, asparagus, decaf tea and coffee,
you are what you eat you become what you read.
Some books simply tickle like ripples,
as harmless and rousing and fleeting as rain,
while some books, beware,
they short-circuit your brain,
and stick to transmitters
like well-intentioned babysitters
that guide gentle minds
towards hopes and schemes
until home comes the real authorities.
So,
Walk slow,
through the rows,
those quiet, bookshop steps,
heel to toe.
And choose wisely, but be wary
not to wake
a sleeping dream.
Things We Truly Own
Poem by Memel Pound
Think of the things we
There are only a few that
The brain in your brain
The feet in your wool socks,
Your skin, your blood and
All of the things we call
Things we collect and can’t
Our games and our toys
That we think bring us
Will get left on a shelf full
All of the bobbles and gewgaws
All we thought priceless
Will pile up in piles
And after a while
Could fill up a ship and
No, it’s only ourselves
And only our loved ones
Our family and friends
Will be there to the end,
So start loving you and
This Morning
Poem by Violet Rosengarten
The intermittent foghorn
The rhythmic music on
This morning,
And I imagine the fog,
Like whirling, unfurling
Upon the water.
Open Heart Forgery 
Hi there 👋 I did not know I was going to be in the Open Forgery.! Thanks for putting my poem in for August 😊😄