View Issue vol. 9, no. 9
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.
Val Aston – A Season of Colours
Holly-Lynn Bourgeois – Brain Circus
Janet Brush – The Last Long Sleep
Harry Garrison – Rabbit Tourist Trap
Brian Harding – East Coast Girl
Scot Jamieson – No Time, No Help
Allison Lawlor – Without Words
Scott Lynch – like sleeping children
David Mac Eachern – Meet the Dawn
Chinenye ‘Zabrain’ Ndulue – Release it: The Fart Rhyme
Judi Risser – The Agony of Love
Jasmin Stoffer – The End of the Road
Mary Upton – A Lens of Blindness
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October Kitchen
Poem by Rod Stewart
Just before
The season of runny noses,
And wailing nor’ westers,
There is a pause
Of last lingering russet and gold,
Before the harvest earth sleeps again.
Your embrace upon coming home
Becomes even more welcome,
As night weighs more than day,
And my apple cheeks
Are kissed by frost.
Just beyond your heart
That beats close to mine,
Opens our home
With waft of cocoa and cream,
Warming my smile wide
Into a pumpkin grin,
Soon to thaw
These old Halloween bones,
While cinnamon’s scent
Swirls past the kitchen door,
And young voices banter
Like squirrels pawing
Through their evening’s bounty.
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A Lens of Blindness
Poem by Mary Upton
Why do you pass me by?
What do you see?
Yes, once there was a mind of clarity
Now enshrouded in a kind of “disparity”
For some it is our fate
For others we relish “escape”
For all, we need your kindness
Please don’t view us through a lens of
“blindness”
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A Season of Colours
Poem by Val Aston
Shadows dance across the lawn
Haze and sun through swaying trees
Stirred by passing gentle winds
Leaves drift down in twos and threes
Green leaves turning many shades
Gold and crimson fluttering down
Floating, swooping, flaunting tints
Taupe to citrus, beige to brown
The smell of autumn haunts the air
Frosty mornings, sun warm days
Enjoy this time which you’ll recall
When winter skies are shades of grays
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Holly-lynn (2)
Poem by Samuel Keefe
A morning can be a vulnerable moment
The abrupt end to
A soft dream shatters
Specks of glittery snow.
They’ll scatter and fall resting
On your hardwood floor
To fossilize.
These are the golden dream flakes
That glimmer signs
Of reassurance before vanishing
When the morning is vulnerable
And you need it most.
Eyes open.
My hand rests on your hand–
It’s a gesture written in stone.
Thoughts exchange–breaths–
Breaths–exchange and dance
In synch like a pendulum
Made of silk, spirit and wine.
I was dreaming
Of the flowers you gave me that shook me inside
– for a single lingering moment,
And woke me up to you.
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Meet the Dawn
Poem by David Mac Eachern
In balance with a current
Taken deep within the flow
I seek thee as meant
Be the drifting heart’s glow
Sails up, wind taking charge
A ride looking into sky
Moon shining brightly and large
Starry array, night passing by
Gradual process for passion revival
An oncoming wave bringing you
In a moment’s notice, arrival
Time measured path joining two
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Without Words
Poem by Allison Lawlor
In the shade of the young maple leaves,
so green and broad and translucent.
Hidden from the light of the morning sun,
so warm and bright and peaceful,
you reached for my hand.
Without hesitation and without resistance,
I let you have it.
In the silence that fell on the world
for that pregnant moment,
we spoke secretly of deep feelings
that had never found words,
and I knew, sadly, never should.
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The Agony of Love
Poem by Judi Risser
When your voice raises
My heart skips a beat
When your fists fly
My eyes blink defeat
When your mind races
I curl into a ball
When you storm out that door
Tears billow and fall
What will it take
For you to see
My love is real
Never ending, everlasting
True, free and complete
But now, it too
Shows signs of defeat.
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Brain Circus
Poem by Holly-Lynn Bourgeois
Psychosis is a tightrope for a freight train of thought
a balancing act between a reflection and a shadow
And as I walk along, the cable slits between my toes
bleeding, contemplating waking or sleeping…
anything but falling
but it’s not always unstable
sometimes the little voice is Shakespearian sonnet
Ro(a)Manic
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No Time, No Help
Poem by Scot Jamieson
There is
No time, there is no time,
When you cannot, when
You cannot come to Soul,
No help, no help she will not give.
She wants you to spend more,
More of your time, alone with her,
Alone with her alone.
There is nothing
With which she cannot,
She cannot and does not help
If, if you come to her, if
You come to her.
It’s not a matter of praying,
Of praying, but a matter
Of depending, depending on her,
Of trying nothing,
Nothing on your own,
On your own, but of having an inner
Leaning-on, an inner leaning on
Her, which will
Bring to you, which will bring you to
The only peace,
The only peace of mind there is,
There is.
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Do you ever wonder,
In your bed at night,
Why you forget your dreams?
It’s not you. The dreams,
they say, are delicate things.
They cannot adapt to the human mind.
They are too extraordinary for the foolish
mind of a child, so they go away.
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The Last Long Sleep
(with apologies to Nancy Allen)
Poem by Janet Brush
What gate? What tunnel? What light?
Death is all blackness, nothingness.
But—-
If there were a god, I’d pray
That he strike me dead with a lightening bolt
While I’m running to an English class
………………..Or a poetry reading
………………..Or a play at the Bus Stop Theatre.
If there were a god, I’d pray
That she annihilate me
Before I become a cripple
………………..Or a vegetable
………………..Or lose control of my life.
But I won’t pray.
There is no god, no garden gate, no heaven.
And no immortality.
Just blackness, nothingness.
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Release it: The Fart Rhyme
Poem by Chinenye ‘Zabrain’ Ndulue
Release the fart and let it Ooze.
Inhale the fart, sweet like Booze.
Let it rip hard, wreck their Nose.
Let it sound loud, let it Loose.
.
You can do it alone or do it in Twos.
You can do it barefooted or wearing Shoes.
You can do it at work when working with Tools.
Or at home when playing in the Room.
.
You can do it in church, the pastor won’t Care.
You can do at the bus stop, don’t be Scared.
Release it in a crowd, have no Fear.
Release the fart and allow it to Smell.
.
Because you know you only live Once.
And Flatulence is never a Curse.
Everyone does it, it’s nature, it’s a Must.
So Fart like a King with no Remorse.
.
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East Coast Girl
Lyrics by Brian Harding
East Coast girl
Where were you last night
We had a fight
How I wish everything was alright
East Coast Girl
You make my day so Blue
Damm it, I am Halifax bound
Going to find my girl
Just hope she comes around
But she was nowhere to be found
Here I am
Sitting on the rocks at Peggy’s Cove
Strumming on my guitar
Just wondering where you are.
East Coast Girl
My love never found
Oh East Coast girl
One more wave.
Then I am Heaven bound.
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like sleeping children
Poem by Scott Lynch
like sleeping children
November’s leaves
lay on the walk
the lawn
the eaves
yellow and brown
and fading green
are all that’s left
as rains careen
a wayward wind
completes the show
it’s pleasant yet
but soon the snow
soon the stark
the silhouette
of what once was
lest we forget
soon the dark
outlasting light
a winter world
of longing night
and so I pine
for what was best
of the fair fall
deciduous
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Kind Heart
Poem by Lorie Morris
Kind heart, they say.
Kind heart, to others.
Kind heart, to family.
Kind heart, to friends.
Kind heart, to strangers.
Kind heart, with feeling.
Kind heart, can only go
so far!
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The End of the Road
A poem for Madiba
Poem by Jasmin Stoffer
That long walk to the place
Where we’ll find freedom and grace
Is not one that is paved with gold,
It is in ruin and rubble
And we are sure to stumble
But we have to keep strong and bold
And many have fought
While they took this long walk
And many, so many, I have been told;
Have struggled and died
Have stopped, and have cried
And shivered and shook in the cold
Now, there is a story
Of a man who found glory
He did not stop, or give up and fold
He walked and he fought
And he struggled and taught
At the end of suffering, there is freedom to behold
And that long walk to freedom
Like a bright shining beacon
Shines out for all young and all old
We shall never forget him
That man who saw freedom
Freedom at the end…
Of the road
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Until my heart stops beating
I will hunt you
Until my breath fails me
I will chase you
Until my mind stops racing
I will pursue you
As long as the visions haunt me
I will search for you
As long as my skin still burns
I will follow you
As long as these nightmares consume me
I will stalk you
While the voices still goad me
I will be just moments behind you
Watching
Waiting
I will hunt you
I will hunt you
I will hunt you
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Fake News
Poem by Richard S. Payne
Roses are blue,
Violets are red;
If you think this is true,
You are likely misled.
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Rabbit Tourist Trap
Poem by Harry Garrison
Do you have rabbits in your room,
that light up your room’s gloom?
Do you have rabbits in your room
that light up,
but only when they’re right-side-up?
Has your bedroom become a warren,
or just a rabbit-hole for touring?
