Two Poems

by Lisa Fields

Cancelled Vacation

Are we lost

without the beckoning—

new sky

unwalled places

that open the rib

out from the lock

Tied to Home

Canceled plans

anticipation falling

back to routine

We will be here

for the ripening

wrapped in the whir

of hummingbirds­­––

sunglow of

tomato blush

the twist of chile stems—

green shoulder in the curl

of my thumb

slender eggplants

sweetened under flame—

dogs stretched across the floor

in a halo of fur

* * * * *

Lisa Fields lives in Southwestern New Mexico. Writing poetry expresses her desire to be immersed in a state of balance. Her inspiration comes from the joy of wild places and the challenge to live happily in the domesticated world. She is a contract writer for Quirine Ketterings, Professor of Nutrient Management in Agricultural Systems, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY. In her home state of NY, Lisa served the farming community as an Extension educator for 10 years, and then worked for 10 years as a self-employed advisor.

Holding On

by Jeanette Cheezum

We glance from the drip of her saline bag to her face. We barely recognize the once strong woman in charge. Her breathing is labored and she no longer knows we are there.

We still hang on because we know at any minute she will open her eyes, get out of bed and insist on going home.

The reality is…not this time; we are approaching the end. Too many strokes, but the heart keeps its rhythm.

An empty chair on Christmas day.

* * * * *

"Holding On" was first published 2013 on Vox Poetica and nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

Jeanette Cheezum is a 2014 Pushcart Prize nominee and was awarded The Helium Network’s Premium Writer’s Badge and a Marketplace Writers award. Her work has been published on several online writing sites and in print. She’s published in fifteen Anthology books and four books of poetry. Three of these books have made the New York Times Best Sellers list. Recently she’s published thirteen e-books waiting for you at Amazon and Barnes and Noble for children and general adult audiences. Jeanette is the publisher of Cavalcade of Stars and gets her writing inspiration from life and peering out her window on the Chesapeake Bay.

Auntie Sphinx

by Jane Yolen

She has the stare of a raptor,

talons long as an eagle's

and she gazes below as if even

a colony of ants might be prey.

She reads the New York times,

does the acrostic without cheating.                           

When it comes time for dinner,

she puts her napkin on like a bib

because eating is a marathon

and she plans to win every race.

Do not ask her for hugs,

or small talk, or speak of the weather.

But she will discuss the minutiae

of Boris Pasternak's work all night,

or the depth of the aurora borealis,

as easily as she discourses upon

the motives of angels

dancing on the head of a pin.

And when you say your goodbyes,

she will hand you a bag of bones.

"For the story," she says, every time.

Till one day you understand,

and write down the story, bones and all.

It is the only way.

* * * * *

Jane Yolen's book count is 382—the majority of them children's books, 10 books of adult poems, plus adult novels (fantasy and historical), nonfiction and memoirs. Twelve music books and 2 cookbooks, and . . . she has a low threshold of boredom. She has written a poem a day for the past seven years. Six colleges and universities have given her honorary doctorates for her work.

Light Through a Bedroom Window at Eighty

by Jane Yolen

As I sit writing this poem,

light filtered through my bedroom window,

dust-curtained, a January tease,

reminds me that we have miles to go,

not before we sleep, but before

we wake to spring.

It should make me sad,

But the light is slant and perfect,

offering its own invitation.

I take its hand, get out of bed,

lift the skirt of my night’s gown,

and dance.

* * * * *

Jane Yolen's book count is 382—the majority of them children's books, 10 books of adult poems, plus adult novels (fantasy and historical), nonfiction and memoirs. Twelve music books and 2 cookbooks, and . . . she has a low threshold of boredom. She has written a poem a day for the past seven years. Six colleges and universities have given her honorary doctorates for her work. www.janeyolen.com

Most Unwelcome 

by Mary McCarthy

The secrets women keep 

Go unnoticed 

Like the steel webs 

Inside our walls 

Holding them up 

Sometimes like swallowed lye 

They burn through our throats 

So we may never 

Speak again 

Dangerous 

More dangerous 

Than enriched uranium 

Demanding the most 

Exacting care 

Offering a terrible 

Opportunity 

To guard the home you have 

Or speak 

And set it all 

To falling down 

Around you 

  

* * * * *

Mary McCarthy has always been a writer but spent most of her working life as a Registered Nurse. Her work has appeared in many print and online journals, including Third Wednesday, Earth's Daughters, the Ekphrastic Review, and Verse Virtual. Her electronic chapbook, Things I Was Told Not to Think About, is available as a free download from Praxis magazine.

On Reflection 

by Mary McCarthy

  

After a lifetime 

Your story broke too close 

Blowing my foundation 

Opening the earth  

Calling up the dead 

To walk again 

Dragging their sins back 

Into the open air 

Until each necessary breath 

Invites corruption 

And I taste your secret 

Like some foul communion 

I must swallow whole 

Or choke 

  

It will be as hard to forgive you 

As to rebuild these walls 

And drive the dead back down 

Too hard to forget your voice 

Telling my story 

As if it were your own 

  

* * * * *

Mary McCarthy has always been a writer but spent most of her working life as a Registered Nurse. Her work has appeared in many print and online journals, including Third Wednesday, Earth's Daughters, the Ekphrastic Review, and Verse Virtual. Her electronic chapbook, Things I Was Told Not to Think About, is available as a free download from Praxis magazine.

We Are All Refugees

by Nancy Gerber

We are all refugees.

For who are we

if not seekers

of asylum

from the ghosts

of the past?

We all need

shelter, a place

to call home

as we cast our lines

toward

the distant horizon.

* * * * *

This poem is excerpted with permission from the author’s poetry chapbook, We Are All Refugees (New Feral Press, 2017). For more information or to order copies please contact Nancy Gerber at nancygerber79@gmail.com. The author wishes to thank Beate Sigriddaughter for her support.

Nancy Gerber writes fiction, poetry, and essays. Her most recent book, A Way Out of Nowhere (Big Table Publishing), is a collection of short stories featuring female protagonists negotiating the complexities of relationships; it is available on Amazon.

In the Garden, Stuttgart

by Nancy Gerber

Captive forever in black and white,

my family seated in the garden.

Great Uncle Louis, Great Grandma Clara,

her daughters, Flora and Ilse,

my father, his sister Ruth,

their cousins Lore and Peter.

The year is 1930, my father seven.

No one imagines the gassings.

Five years later Flora is gone.

Felled by infection from an asylum,

her mind diseased

before her body.

My grandfather Kurt reappears

to care for his children

though he has married

another woman.

After the war, a reunion,

for those who are left.

The U.S. their new home.

Learn a new tongue.  Try to forget.

The garden still beckons but my father

returned only once.

I’ve never been, though at night

I dream of deep forests, rushing rivers

a woman’s voice calling Mein Leibschen,

a castle where everyone waltzes.

* * * * *

This poem is excerpted with permission from the author’s poetry chapbook, We Are All Refugees (New Feral Press, 2017). For more information or to order copies please contact Nancy Gerber at nancygerber79@gmail.com. The author wishes to thank Beate Sigriddaughter for her support.

Nancy Gerber writes fiction, poetry, and essays. Her most recent book, A Way Out of Nowhere (Big Table Publishing), is a collection of short stories featuring female protagonists negotiating the complexities of relationships; it is available on Amazon.

ANGEL IN MY LIFE

by Bilquis Fatima

Opening her twinkling eyes in my arms.

Left me spell bounded with her innocent charm.

Unbelievable was the gift of God bestowed upon me.

My daughter’s advent heralded a wonderful serendipity.

Hitting her tiny feet in a mirthful rhyme.

Trying to converse in gurgle and chime.

Her seraphic smile spread like sunshine.

Elated was I when her tender fingers held mine.

Angel of change indeed is she,

Growing gracefully spreads veritable joy and harmony.

Tiptoeing into the corridor of a listless life,

Illuminates my life with faith divine.

Invested with halo of love and compassion

Wings of protection she wraps around me.

An aura of warmth and serenity she exudes

A sense of confidence she infuses in me.

Surely she came in my life, to embellish

Waving her wand for my woes to abolish.

And when I am in a pensive mood

Planting a kiss, she breathes in life and beatitude.

Her innocence fails to wither with time.

Malicious manipulation eludes her flawless mind.

Caring and patting she incessantly spreads her vibes.

No doubt on such gentle souls the world thrives.

Copyright © Bilquis Fatima

22/10/2017

* * * * *

Bilquis Fatima, an innate lover of nature and speaker for social issues, has allowed her feelings to be expressed as short writings and speeches from her college time on. Though being a post-graduate in chemistry, she has also mastered the skills of poetry appreciation and writing. Her poems reflect the situations that are prevalent in society and have been appreciated in some groups of poets and writers lately.

BE SILENT, MY SPEAR!

by Alisa Velaj

Be silent, my spear,

and watch how, over nights,

rocks become illuminating stars.

Amazing – their journey

away from the home yard...

Watch how, over days, these same stars are carried along

and dropped all around, cold and colorless.

Their sharp nose-dive to the heart of the earth

reconceives despondent, dumb suns.

Be silent, my spear;

even farther beyond silence, silent you stay,

with the mystery of illumination

as a testament!

Durrës, June 8, 2016

* * * * *

Alisa Velaj has been shortlisted for the Erbacce-Press Poetry Award in 2014. Her poems have appeared in more than ninety journals and magazines worldwide. Velaj's poetry collection With No Sweat At All will be published by Červená Barva Press in 2019, while another poetry collection, Dreams, was published by Cyberwit Press (summer 2019).

ORANGES IN OCTOBER      

                                                                 

by Dianne Moritz

That crisp October day we raced to Greenwood Park: Judy, Patty, you, me. No fear of strangers, then, who lure children away with promises of puppies and candies.  

We scouted the outhouses, on the lookout for nasty words and graffiti.

“I know what f-u-c-k means!” I bragged. (Judy tattled and her mom banished us from their house for one long week.) Remember? 

But, that day we climbed the twenty-one steps of the double-humped slide, placed smooth waxed paper beneath our blue-jeaned butts, and flew…down, down, down, faster than a speeding bullet...little Super-girls!

Heading home, I spied a dollar drifting over the green carpet of Mrs. Wilson's perfect lawn. “We’re rich!” you shouted, but I insisted we give it back. So we marched to her back door to relinquish our treasure. 

“Oh, you darlings!” she gushed, turning on her shiny linoleum, and bringing down a large wooden bowl, Sunkist oranges nestled inside, big and round as baby suns.

Oranges! Oranges in October!

Back outside, we made monkey lips with the rinds and you called me a dumb shit.

“We coulda bought 20 Hershey bars!" you screamed. "Last one home's a monkey’s uncle!" Remember?

Then Mother asked us where in the world we got oranges in October, the tart scent of citrus lingering on my fingertips.

* * * * *

Dianne Moritz is a children's poet and picture book writer with two published books from Kane Miller. She is a frequent contributor to Highlights for Children magazines and others.

Mother Birth

by Jeannie E. Roberts

 ―for my son, Thanksgiving morning

 The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before.

 The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. 

                                                         ~Bhagwan Shri Rajneesh (Osho, 1931 - 1990)

So new

the night

heightened

by storm

snowflakes

cascade

blanket

the Earth

bounty

bestirs

enlarged

by birth.

Gratitude's

table

holds bundle

shares joy

cradles

beginnings

inspired

by form

two spirits

align

a mother

is born.

* * * * *

Jeannie E. Roberts has authored six books, including The Wingspan of Things (Dancing Girl Press, 2017), Romp and Ceremony (Finishing Line Press, 2017), Beyond Bulrush (Lit Fest Press, 2015), and Nature of it All (Finishing Line Press, 2013). She is also author and illustrator of Rhyme the Roost! A Collection of Poems and Paintings for Children (Daffydowndilly Press, an imprint of Kelsay Books, 2019) and Let's Make Faces! (author-published, 2009). Her work appears in print and online in North American and international journals and anthologies. She holds a B.S. in secondary education, M.A. in arts and cultural management, and is poetry editor of the online literary magazine Halfway Down the Stairs. When she’s not reading, writing, or editing, you can find her drawing and painting, or outdoors photographing her natural surroundings. 

Haunting the Understory

by Jeannie E. Roberts

Where asters scatter and fungi thrive, M. uniflora

grows. Wan and curving, in pallid-colored groupings,

ghost plants haunt the understory, lift like ballerinas

from stage Earth’s trap door.

Inhabitants of the unseen world plié, move as traces,

share lonesome spaces, where greenery’s pockets

swell in soil of abundance. As light pirouettes,

spectral forms echo humanity’s division, a company

of the haves and have-nots perform in distant orbits,

yet, upon the same stage.

*                      *                     *                       *

The plight of homelessness is increasing in rural

America; despite its existence, it remains

a hidden crisis. Like the ghost plant, invisibility

besets the homeless. In compassionate effort,

we must create awareness, cultivate brighter

stories as we reform the dance, lift our brothers

and sisters toward united orbits, where humanity’s

stage can become one in the soil of abundance. 

* * * * *

Jeannie E. Roberts has authored six books, including The Wingspan of Things (Dancing Girl Press, 2017), Romp and Ceremony (Finishing Line Press, 2017), Beyond Bulrush (Lit Fest Press, 2015), and Nature of it All (Finishing Line Press, 2013). She is also author and illustrator of Rhyme the Roost! A Collection of Poems and Paintings for Children (Daffydowndilly Press, an imprint of Kelsay Books, 2019) and Let's Make Faces! (author-published, 2009). Her work appears in print and online in North American and international journals and anthologies. She holds a B.S. in secondary education, M.A. in arts and cultural management, and is poetry editor of the online literary magazine Halfway Down the Stairs. When she’s not reading, writing, or editing, you can find her drawing and painting, or outdoors photographing her natural surroundings. 

Misplaced Apostle to the Apostles

by Pamela Williams

Inspired by Cynthia Bourgault

Her own gospel was there.

Deleted in that patriarchal way,

leaving a repressed and gravely wounded

divine feminine, communion denied.

We watch the repeated dynamic

pervasively played out in boundless examples

from sexual harassment in a Minnesota iron mine

to degradation in a supreme court hearing.

Sixteen hundred years to refine and deepen

that dysfunctional comfort zone.

From its inception,

fluid and diverse.

Prayers for its resurrection.

Where have you been for so long,

voice silenced,

while we careened through

assorted shadow interpretations

in the darkness?

Celebration now, for glimmers

of the transformative alchemy

of kenotic love,

with all its glorious interwoven archetypes.

Beloved.

* * * * *

Pamela Williams is a writer, poet, and visual artist, searching for the poignant truths, with provocations from the heartbreaking beauty of a miniature wing on her studio floor, to the current pain on our border, and following the ties that either bind us or tear us apart. Her poems rich in irony, compassion, and challenge, she invites us along on the Fool’s Journey, embracing the gifts of vulnerability. Her poems and assemblages have appeared in the Poets Speak Walls and Survival anthologies, three of the Lummox Anthologies, Live Out Loud, Poetry Lovers epub from Larry Robinson, and her own Hair On Fire from Mercury Heartlink, at amazon.com: http://amzn.to/2eD5lxL  

THE THEORY OF THE POST-PARTUM FETISH

by Marion Deutsche Cohen

A baby comes out smeared

with that wet sticky stuff

smelling even stranger

than seaweed or sex.

The mother, too, gets slimed

with something

something

yes, something has radiated

and stopped on her skin.

They wash it off the baby

as much as they can

and keep telling the mother

to go take a shower.

But the film persists

dense, solid.

The film insists

oily, dry.

It sticks to the skin of others

which explains why, when she touches, she lingers

and why, when she touches the baby, she lingers more.

It takes up space, possesses weight

and clings to the dust and air

which explains why she moves so slowly.

* * * * *

"The Theory of the Post-Partum Fetish" is from The Fuss and the Fury (Alien Buddha Press, NM)

Marion Deutsche Cohen is the author of 27 collections of poetry or memoir; her latest poetry collections are “The Project of Being Alive” (New Plains Press, AL) and “New Heights in Non-Structure” (dancing girl press, IL)., as well as the forthcoming “The Discontinuity at the Waistline: My #MeToo Poems” (Rhythm and Bones Press, PA) and “The Fuss and the Fury” (Alien Buddha Press, NM). She is also the author of two controversial memoirs about spousal chronic illness, a trilogy diary of late-pregnancy loss, and “Crossing the Equal Sign”, about the experience of mathematics. She teaches a course she developed, Mathematics in Literature, at Arcadia and at Drexel Universities. Other interests are classical piano, singing, Scrabble, thrift-shopping, four grown children, and five grands. Her website is marioncohen.net.

Nature as an Inspiration

by Padmini Krishnan

Change! They tell me

and install the new software

I smile and raise my thumbs

while fear screams with all

Its strength, gripping

and crippling my brain.

I try and try

but fail every time

My hands and mind

tremble at the mention

of the software

I look out to see

tiny droplets turn

into long needles only

to submerge in the leaves, the pond,

the buildings and the earth

Those droplets are not glued to

the sky or petrified

with fear mid-air

Taking strength from

the unresisting droplets

I slowly unshackle the

chains of fear and

walk up to my trainer.

* * * * *

Padmini Krishnan is a Web Copywriter. Her haiku and haibun have appeared in Shamrock, The Neverending Story, A Hundred Gourds, Proletaria, Cattails, Chrysanthemum, New Wales Journal, The Heron's Nest, Contemporary Haibun Online and Haibun Today. Her Short stories for children have been published in My Light Magazine, Short Kid Stories, and Children's Stories.net. She lives in Singapore.