Category Archives: Uncategorized

Facing the Ocean

I come to spread my thoughts across the water
not empty the lint of my sins from my pockets
on a High Holy Day or scatter ashes of a loved one
followed by a float of flowers in honor of his life.
I come to sort my emotions , words spoken or written
in comfort or discord, place them at a clear yet near
distance, floating on the buoyant back of the ocean,
so there is space to accept another’s perspective
while I watch shared feelings ride the windless waves
as they fold themselves quietly in to shore.

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Janet Krauss, who has two books of poetry published, “Borrowed Scenery,” Yuganta Press, and “Through the Trees of Autumn,” Spartina Press, has recently retired from teaching English at Fairfield University. Her mission is to help and guide Bridgeport’s  young children through her teaching creative writing, leading book clubs and reading to and engaging a kindergarten class. As a poet, she co-directs the poetry program of the Black Rock Art Guild.

[Say gravity is grace enough for god-]

Say gravity is grace enough for god-
less men—a secular force binding all
things, everywhere, with prevenient power.
inevitably irresistible,
it connect and confines, keeps us grounded.
inescapable, like fledgling photons
attempting to sneak past black holes—parents
sitting on the sofa, watching the door
in the darkest hours after curfew
or eons later, waiting. though weaker
with distance, every prodigal’s within
its parabolic reach—slowly drawn back
home by unmerited favor. a love
unseen. the hope that reconciles all things.

~ MEH

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MEH is Matthew E. Henry, a Pushcart and Best of the Net nominated poet with works appearing or forthcoming in various publications including Amethyst Review, The Anglican Theological Review, The Other Journal, Relief, Rock and Sling, Spiritus, and The Windhover. The author or Teaching While Black (Main Street Rag. 2020), MEH is an educator who received his MFA from Seattle Pacific University, yet continued to spend money he didn’t have completing a MA in theology and a PhD in education.

All Because

Put to bed any idea
answers to big questions will come –
reward for life spent rooting
through loose change of thought

in wonder at the way
petrified lakes project mountain peaks
add gloss to winter days
imagined only by Brueghel

ponder how moon floodlights
night as salmon chart, part-magnet,
part-vault, pulled home against
the flow, return the same

questions like tide: ones that ask
who we really are and what it all means –
and the answer to why might be
because.

 

Paul Waring is a retired clinical psychologist from the Wirral. His poems have been widely published in print journals, anthologies and webzines. He was runner-up in the 2019 Yaffle Prize, commended in the 2019 Welshpool Poetry Competition and has a pamphlet ‘Quotidian’ (Yaffle Press, 2019). www.waringwords.blog

The Lotus Blossoms

Cupped within open hands, atoms swirl.
Undaunted by eternity, unmeasured,
all that is, or will be, is in the whirl.

The essence of all life is held treasured.
Life flows as I reach out my upturned palms,
undaunted by eternity unmeasured.

The sounds of day ring truly like a psalm.
The sights of night reflect from opened eyes.
Life flows as I reach out my upturned palms.

Rain falls joyous, it improvises, and the sky tries
to grace the offered cup with drink sublime.
The sights of life reflect from opened eyes,

framed by lash, the lens shows an outward clime.
The earth, the sun, the rocks, and rain remain
to grace the offered cup with drink sublime.

Oh, taste a wealth of earthly spice ingrained
upon the scented winds, all nature unfurls.
The earth, the sun, the rocks, and rain remain
all that is, or will be, is in the whirl.

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Deborah Guzzi writes internationally. Her poetry appears in Allegro, Shooter, Amethyst Review & Foxglove Journal in the UK – Blue Nib &Automatic Pilot, Ireland – Existere, Ekphrastic Review, Scarlet Leaf & Subterranean Blue, Canada – Tincture, Vine Leaves & Ariel Chart – Australia, mgv2>publishing- France, Cha – Hong Kong – Greece – pioneertown, Sounding Review, Bacopa Literary Review, The Aurorean, Liquid Imagination & others in the USA. Deborah was nominated for the Pushcart Award & Rhysling Awards.

In the Meantime
(For Riley)

Sometimes our minds muddle
daily doomsday blasts
untamed pandemics
dystopian fantasies
even dreams go topsy-turvy
a whale lives in the sky
a boy lives in water,
Well, why not?
Our minds can revise any
which way we choose,
tame the tiger,
invite God to dinner.

So in the meantime,
why not look up, pin our
hopes to streaming stars, even
ride their coattails for a while,
ride until the morning dawns
innocent and the sun
behaves like it should,
still melting the frozen fields.

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Marilyn Grant has taught writing at Cerritos College and journal writing to Hospice nurses.  She belongs to a weekly Sangha with like-minded spiritual seekers, which is the inspiration for much of her poetry.  Her poems have appeared in Amethyst Review and Avocet: A Journal of Nature Poetry.

Daniel the Prophet Complains to Gabriel

In the citadel at Susa on the banks of the Ulai—
or maybe the ram stands on Wall Street, the goat
blows across the Seine—barn stock rampage,
terrorizing stars, casting down sanctuaries.

Barricades collapse—cathedrals and towers
a vapor, a black wall, a steel and granite pool.
When will it end?
…………………………………….It is not just kingdoms
that will rise and fall, but your temple, your song.

Religion faithless? Hymns with no words?
Whispered rosaries, hollow doctrines, hollow
men? The great twin horns—doubt, despair
—shove us to our sick bed.
…………………………………….Get up, man. Worship
this way: in spirit, in truth, a Shepherd, a Lamb.

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Janna Schledorn’s poetry has appeared in Adanna Literary Journal, Revelry and other journals. In 2016, she won the Thomas Burnett Swann Poetry Prize from the Gwendolyn Brooks Writers Association of Florida. Poems from this series have also appeared in Presence: A Journal of Catholic Poetry.

So Long Remembering
(based on an erasure poem from Germinal, Emil Zola)

Beneath
the deep blows
of winter,

the bent back
of the field,
so long

remembering
the wildflowers.

Now, now,
spring draws
near

the field
cracking
brumal

ever warming,
filled with light

whispering voices.
brush of a holy kiss.

In the furrows,
dawn

of the next earth.

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Melissa A. Chappell is a native of South Carolina, where, along with writing and reading, she enjoys the outdoors and music. She has a BA in the Theory of Music and a Master of Divinity degree. She shares her life with her family and two miniature schnauzers.

Opening

Lavishing the self
in your gilded leaves
was channel of seeking
consensus with the cosmic,
it divided me beyond doubt.

Subsequent phase
was to thumb through wander.
Misknowings cleared
the urge to reside within
reached get-up-and-go status.

Like a well stocked refrigerator
feeds the famished:
my new den nourishes me.

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Sanjeev Sethi is published in over 25 countries. He has more than 1200 poems printed or posted in venues around the world. Wrappings in Bespoke, is Winner of Full Fat Collection Competition-Deux organized by the Hedgehog Poetry Press UK. It’s his fourth book. It will be issued in 2020. He lives in Mumbai, India.

 

Scenic Vista

I,
Head bowed,
chin to stubby tie,
hands clasped in polyester lap
shut my eyes and pray aloud.
I pray for those who may have lapsed
inclusive of this future self of me.

We,
taught that we were chosen (maybe)
thought that we could never see
a time when our entreaties would be
viewed as any other thing…
except as earnest piety.
Now what I see
from 50 years removed is

you,
fearing petty sins of average hearts
supplied with naive minds which you impart
the bureaucracy of your beliefs,
with all of it’s malignancy
hid by your sincerity
and desire to make any kind of mark.

With something that we all let pass for love,
you guide me to a path you say will lead to heaven.
At least it had been paved with good intention.

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Morgan Driscoll is a commercial artist looking to express himself in ways that do not involve selling things. Poetry seems the the form most expressive, and least mercenary, so he is giving it a try. When not running a business, or raising 5 children, or drinking coffee, he occasionally explores the spiritual, quickly losing his way and retreating back to the profane.

 

Readings

As your words, shared, move on,
making their own way, these,
between ourselves,
may come between us.
Hold definition in the shadows.

A pause.

The measure that you choose.
Weighing a word’s worth:
Icarian arrogance,
terrifying quiescence,
incalculable risk,
darkroom childhood.

Fix the reflection on the water:
you will not see;
plunge your hand
deep into the mirror,
let the milky coolness
envelop your fingers:
we will understand each other.

Essence escapes
my metamorphic words.
Take them as you will.
Make them yours.

 

Jane Angué teaches English Language and Literature in France. Writing in French and English, work has appeared most recently in Le Capital des Mots, Amethyst, Ink, Sweat and Tears, Acumen and Poésie/première. A pamphlet, des fleurs pour Bach, was published in 2019 (Editions Encres Vives).