Rupert Loydell is a writer, editor and abstract artist. His many books of poetry include Dear Mary (Shearsman, 2017) and The Return of the Man Who Has Everything(Shearsman 2015); and he has edited anthologies such as Yesterday’s Music Today (co-edited with Mike Ferguson, Knives Forks and Spoons Press 2014), and Troubles Swapped for Something Fresh: manifestos and unmanifestos (Salt, 2010)
Wherein the Trail Runner has 1000 Words for the Wind
Dick Westheimer has – in the company of his wife Debbie – lived, gardened and raised five children on their plot of land in rural southwest Ohio. He has taken up with poets and the writing of poetry to make sense of the world. He is a finalist for 2021 Rattle Poetry Prize. His poems have previously appeared in Rattle, Pine Mountain Sand and Gravel, Rise Up Review, and Sheila Na-Gig.
What The Monk Said
Stop going hungry
and plant the quiet of midnight
It will root in soft ground and spread
like melted wax into darkness
Listen for the call of the animals whose home
this is - the owl the bat
the night flying moth
They are leaves on the growing stem
(The scent of jasmine will smother
your garden walls
Let it crumble them)
Watch for the moonflower
Its pale petals open only
for the stars that drip milk onto the earth
like water and you will know
when it has drunk its fill
The night will be full
of a language no one has words for
not even you
The sky is your mirror now
See which of your faces looks back
and welcome it
This is your first fruit
Elodie Barnes is a writer and editor. Her work has been recently published / is forthcoming in Gone Lawn, Lunate, Wild Roof Journal, and Past Ten, and she is Books & Creative Writing Editor at Lucy Writers Platform. When not travelling, she lives on the edge of a wood in northern England and complains incessantly about the weather.
Vergine madre, figlia del tuo figlio. Dante
Mother of cracked stone.
Infant in robed arms. Haloes
gold wreathed with rosebuds.
A child’s feet bare, his
taupe hand on her silent heart.
Jesus and Mary.
Thy will be done, my child whom
I love forever.
Open wide eyes of
sorrow. O, mother mourner,
I no longer know.
Moná Ó Loideáin Rochelle’s poetry can be found or is forthcoming in The Southern Review, Spiritus, Notre Dame Review, Southword, and Wales Haiku Journal. She volunteers for Médecins Sans Frontières. Visit: https://www.linkedin.com/in/monatheresalydon/
Triptych for CosmicMusic
A garden Temple, vegetation green--
photosynthesis and fruits meant to feed.
Yet we disdained divine call, and ate greed,
scorning the One who teaches how to sing.
We didn’t know how to make music, tunes
like meager porridge dribbled from our tongues.
We starved on our decorum, weakened lungs
no longer billowed once resounding rooms.
God scattered us, nutrition to be reaped
in silence. An invitation to hear
sacred heartbeats, and feed ourselves afresh.
But first we must cough up all that still creeps
inside—the toxins, constraining pride, fear.
We’ll have to face what we’ve tried to suppress.
Have we heard scars release their ancient moans?
From the bottom of the canyon, keening
that bounces off sheer escarpment, meaning
a belly is waking, finally known?
Kinetic energy is freed to gush
throughout a universe anemic—weak
muscles then receive ointment from the shriek.
Symphonies need the sound of salve jars crushed.
One Day Soon
Franciscan monastery replicates
Italian, Near Eastern pilgrimage sites.
In the Portiuncula, a widow’s mite
in aria: a humble voice creates
healing waves. I stand outside to receive.
Inspired, I head to the catacomb
of Christ. I enter its resonant home.
With a song from youth, I worship and grieve.
Amniotic sac pulsing, heart that beats,
bidding us babies to grow tongues, grow ears--
one day soon: lullabies around the crèche.
Melanie Weldon-Soiset’s poetry has appeared in Geez, Vita Poetica, and Bearings Online. A 2021 New York Encounter poetry contest finalist, Melanie is a contemplative prayer leader, #ChurchToo spiritual abuse survivor, and former pastor for foreigners in Shanghai. Feel free to sign up for her poetry and prayer newsletter at melanieweldonsoiset.com.
The Sacred Dance
The midnight train through the echo tunnel
windows streaked with the monsoon rain
the girl’s braids flap against the pane,
two curious eyes sparkle
The darkness is lit by the dappled light
On and off, off and on, so on and so on
The tunnel is done, but the light goes on
The girl with the sparkle in her eyes
Sleep lost to her. Sound of her mother’s
Call is drowned out by the chuk-chuk --
The rhythm of the wheels on the metal tracks
The mystery of the light, the spellbound girl
An occasional red lantern in the rain
And the twinkling, sparkling dots of light
Shifting shape in the dark, a spectacular show
Just for the young girls with the wonder
Still left in their eyes, the spectral, sacred
Dance of the love among the glowworms
PratibhaKelapure is an Indian-American poet residing in California. Her poems appear in Choice Words: Writers on Abortion (Anthology, Haymarket Books, 2020), Entropy Magazine, Plath Poetry Project, miller’s pond poetry, The Lake, and many other literary magazines.
Glittering SeaAfter the woodcut print by Yoshida Hiroshi
Print gleam, like the sea
Holding light, the sun’s spillway.
On scratches of swell,
It shines. Here a man might walk,
A dove fall, a voice
Cry in tongues of light,
This, this. Print the same story
Without naming names.
In all things, gesture
To light, as boats, foregrounded,
Trim their sails and turn
To follow the gray
Fleet nearing the brilliant seam
Where the sky begins.
Sally Thomas is the author of a poetry collection, Motherland (Able Muse Press 2020), and a forthcoming novel, Works of Mercy (Wiseblood Books 2022). Her work has appeared recently in Autumn Sky Poetry Review, Dappled Things, North American Anglican, Plough Quarterly, and Trinity House Review.
Laura Cordts has been writing poems for about 50 years, but is brand new at submitting them. Recently retired from a career in healthcare, she lives, walks, gardens, bakes, and writes in Northern New York.
Nothing we see is color
Cezanne said that
but no one believed him
All we really see
the mineral-laden earth
with its zillions of herbal veins
and carnivorous flowers
mere pinpoints of light
reverberations of molecular light
adorned with ornaments
of human bones
George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, New York (U.S.). His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, MORIA Poetry Journal, Chronogram Magazine, Allegro Poetry Journal, Kalliope, Ampersand Literary Review, The Angle at St. John Fisher College and 3:16 Journal. George’s blogs, essays and letters have appeared in Nonviolence Magazine, the Fellowship of Reconciliation, Pace e Bene, USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, The Atlantic, the Havana Times, the South China Morning Post, The Buffalo News and more.
Ciarán of Clonmacnoise
Take my little cow--
the dun one.
Lead her over the hills
the green shower hills hills
where even the high king
goes. Take her
as an offering
of bone and rhyme.
as a tanned bard.
My cow is a sacrifice
of milk and leather.
Her hide is
Her tongue is
Her bones fill my skin
a dazzling beast
with her own story--
I give my
to the cloistered.
I give my dun
to the Lebor na hUidre.
I give my
to the western sea.
I fill the sky
and with psalms.
Richard Manly Heiman lives in the pines of the Sierra Nevada. He works as an English teacher and writes when the kids are at recess. Richard has been published by Rattle, Sonic Boom, Spiritus (Johns Hopkins U.), and elsewhere. His URL is poetrick.com.