One Poem by Grace Schmoyer

You wonder why you loved
Was it worth taking that risk?
People say it’s better to love
Than to have missed

It’s just really hard
Watching part of your heart walk away
You smile with a stiff upper lip
Saying “I’ll see it again some day”

But was all that pain worth it?
Would you do it all again?
Or would you do blow it away, saying
“This is now and that was then”

That empty hole inside
Your heart is groaning to you
You know you have to fill it
What do you do?

While everyone else’s heart
Seems to be untouched,
Why does yours fall apart?
Why does it hurt so much?

That’s when you realize
That’s when you say
“Lord I can’t do it on my own,
Take this pain away”

Because to love is better than to not
And to experience is worth it all
But we so like that “high”
It makes it harder to face the fall

God heal this broken heart
Mend this empty mind
Comfort this lonely girl
Take away the junk that’s left behind

Because I will see them again
And there will be a next time
But it seems like forever
Till I see the truth in that line

This valley is so deep,
I can barley see the sun,
I cry out for mercy lord,
and you lift me up again

{Poem by Grace Schmoyer, age 14}

Two Poems by Jeff Steinle

The Mingling

I don't think there is such a thing as clarity.
Just spasms of pain, breathing, and mock hilarity.
Or anyway glimpses being so brief as to be a rarity.
Comes and goes as an illusion lost and found,
On and off, ones and zeros, attached and bound.
Love without hate for your mate
Whether here or gone it is never too late
To express deep gratitude for existence
Of being even in nothingness
Both at once in times arrow
Makes me feel god in my marrow.
Chills in the spine a sweet tingling
On the skin as our soul mingling
Across space attachment without possession
Angel love, human love, Adam and Lilith


Opus to Inward Travel

From where do the roots of an opus grow
A frantic brain or exotic flesh of resistance
A frantic vein a malcontents vengeance
Since Abel was slain by Cain in the field we all sow
Eyes, ears, nose, tongue, to fingertips chant vain
To counterfeit beauty pounded to dust by times train
Defined before Buddha dust to dust bone to gravel
Ravages unravel in mindful inward travel
And all energy and purgatory will wane
Mercifully releasing my impostor's duty to have all

{Poems by Jeff Steinle}

One Piece by Luke Thomas Collins

Dave the Woodlouse

Took a long walk through the fields,
Hot sun was beating down,
I found myself where Mary once kneeled,
Before they pronounced her dead.

There was a time when she laid me down,
Took my fears and innocence away,
I asked her where she acquired her scars,
She answered with a fire in her eyes.

I think its time for me to depart.

When I first saw her from across the fields,
I prayed in vein,
I asked her if this was love,
She answered with a spiteful tongue.

Now I wake up fearful and cold,
Alone and full of sin,
She died without my goodbyes,
Without even a kiss on her cheek.

I think its time for me to depart.

{Poem by Luke Thomas Collins}

Clouds by Ed Beller

Clouds

Pink clouds
Like massive sails of unseen boats
Move slowly over the East River.
Caught at a glance between office towers
Their windows darting back late afternoon sun.
Why do I suddenly remember
My childhood friend's mother
Whose kiss as I fell asleep in her home
Was a warm rush of grown up body smell, perfume, and wine?

{Poem by Ed Beller}

One Piece by Ray Gallucci

Not Faceless Any More

based on the movie “Joyeux Noël,”
about the spontaneous Christmas Truce of 1914
among opposing soldiers in World War I

It's easy to hate them from afar
When you can't relate to who they are.
"The enemy they're, so kill 'em dead!"
For you're unaware they too eat bread.

But what if an opportunity
Enabled that proper contact be
Established as in “Joyeux Noël?”
Could you still enjoy their trip to hell?

No "devils incarnate," as you're told.
Just people of different ethnic mold
Who've heard the same propagandists shout,
"It's war in God's name, so stamp them out!"

Would it be so easy then to kill
Now knowing that he's just Tom or Bill
Who wishes, like you, his family
Eventually, too, again can see?

{Poem by Ray Gallucci}

One Piece by Derrick Harrison Hurd

Perfect Redemption

The sun is shining and the day is ripe
phantoms perforate the fabric in wrinkle and rhyme
shadows are mirrors and time is a cat
and lilacs are littering the senses with that
Memorable is everything worth remembering
and to forget is to deny a truth
Another year gone and one beginning the test
in perfect redemption of the last
and best

{Poem by Derrick Harrison Hurd}

Three Pearls by Lindsey Malott

Hopeful Humanity

Wordless is the word that taunts the mind.
Desperate is the past we refuse to leave behind.
Hopeful for tomorrow towards fate’s great plan.
Bruised and torn we lie with open hands.


Disguised

If I were to say I’m not fond of you,
it would be a tall lie.
For, I know.
There are no friends or foes:
only friends in disguise.


Discovery

What if we ran
as fast as we could?
Hearts pounding,
lungs gasping.

To the very
end
of the universe.
To the last
facet of existence.

Only to find
everything we were
looking for
was inside our souls
all along, waiting…

{Poems by Lindsey Malott}

One Poem by Gary Miron

Comme il faut

A radio blaring white noise static and I broke another guitar string.
The frayed, nickel-wound steel pricked my finger and now
there's a drop of blood on black paint—Comme il faut.
I can see my reflection in the glossy surface;
there are rings under my eyes and bits of grass in my hair,
clogged pores and peeling lips—Comme il faut.

I've been reading old letters and hitting old chords. The pictures have been taken down,
the toothbrush is long gone and the pink razor that made me laugh;
the walls are empty and my finger still bleeds—Comme il faut.

A caged dog is barking because his partner is gone.
Or is it because he's hungry? Or just bored and bursting at the seams?
Anyway, I can relate—Comme il faut.

Let me out so I can make the music of tapping feet and sing my song for no one but me,
I think this is the way it's supposed to be.
Je ne comprends pas—Comme il faut.

{Poem by Gary Miron}

Snow Storm by Julien Edmund Moss

Snow Storm

Winter snow falls as the sun descends
My Lady changes dress tonight
E’er green was the landscape this morn
Come tomorrow, all is white

Rolling mountains and thundering hills
Cast dreamy nightscapes with moonlight’s quills
Which write the day and reflect light
It’s just the snow that makes things white

Neptune blue, like Isis true,
Through and through, it’s icy too
The lake is smooth on this cold eve
It reigns in cool on this old reed

Hurried footprints
A light in the distance
Birds fly upright
They are all white

Hush now, child!
Step into the white-
Step into the light…

{Poem by Julien Edmund Moss}

One Piece by Lindsey Malott

The Broken

So this is how it feels to fall from the highest peak.
To climb head strong with all my might.
To ascend to the purest sunrise.
And unwillingly plummet to my doomed descending.

The heart feels no desire to beat.
Yet the mind thinks it’s merely unprepared to crash.
Clinched fists enclose peaceful palms.
Readying for the battle of a lifetime.

Eyes wide open and ears sealed shut,
I see the open air around my failures.
Scream not at the unknown.
Curse the once assured safety.

Spiraling downward at indeterminable accelerations,
My fragile fingers cover my face.
The delicate eyelashes blink,blink,blink,
As the bitter salt envelopes my mouth.

My once strong arms embrace my wretched body.
I am alone in the vast array of blue and white.
The warmth of the sun chills my neck.

You failed me,
And I wish to see no more.

Shutting my lids.
Opening my soul.
Un-healable wounds relentlessly seep.
Nearing the barren ground,
I hear the silent footsteps of those who came before me.

{Poem by Lindsey Malott}

A Critic's Piece by Peter Lattu

A Look at Theodore Roethke’s Poetry

"The Collected Poems of Theodore Roethke" is still in print and often available at libraries. It is a rich and varied feast. It serves up the best as well as the rest.

From “Open House” I like Part II about the change of seasons. Roethke catches the “cannon crack” of the thawing river ice in “The Light Comes Brighter”. His long poem, “The Coming of the Cold”, has the feel of “late autumnal bloom” giving way to “a fine and bitter snow”. Herons and bats put in appearances in Part II. Roethke excels in writing about nature.

Roethke’s best is served up in the greenhouse poems in Part I of “The Lost Son and Other Poems”. His fame as a poet surely rests with these. Many admire “Root Cellar” where all manner of things germinate in dank darkness. Having tried to write a poem about orchids and failed, I found Roethke’s “Orchids” fascinating. His orchids sway “adder-mouthed” in our faces. “The Flower Dump”, full of the dead and dying, is presided over by “one tulip on top”. The greenhouse ladies in “Frau Bauman, Frau Schmidt, and Frau Schwartz” hover over Roethke when he is alone in bed. The gardening images conjured up in these poems tell us much about life, love, and loss as envisioned by Roethke.

After the greenhouse poems, the rest is anticlimax although worth the reading for the deft use of language. There are some nonsense poems. Late in the collection, a pike strikes memorably. Roethke’s longer poems tend to lag although they are engaging in spots. “The Lost Son”, for instance, picks up in Part 5 “it was beginning winter”. Roethke knows nature well and puts his best into describing it.

Seek out The Collected Poems of Theodore Roethke. The greenhouse poems alone make the search worthwhile. Savor the feast.

{Prose Piece by Peter Lattu, December 2008}

Two Pieces by Kindell Keyes

A Moment

I can’t think of a time when the
Wind did not howl or
The rain was not wet, the snow was
Not white, the sun was not hot,
The moon did not shine or when the
World stood still just for a moment.
Remembrance has taken a toll.
No one thanks you for being here.


Who Am I?

Physically I think
I'm here,
but mentally I
can't think
anymore. Materially
I have nothing
and socially I don't
get out much.
I do know
that emotionally
I'm drained
and that spiritually
I'm dead.
So Who Am I?

{Poetry by Kindell Keyes}

One Piece by Laura Harmon

Backtracking

They told me to walk it off -
Down by the river, fields of wild heather
And a youth lost.

Summer's hottening the sandy shore
And behind dark shutters they dream and snore.
A girl walking through the dewy grass,
1940 something and she's late for mass.
The same now as it was back then,
Replaced by sloth and venom.
The same in darkness but far more snug,
Couples with places to go, not so much in love.
Birds of prey my darling May, today we slaughter doves.
Seldom feeling the fresh morning air.
Sharp Spring is everywhere, the sound
Of the cuckoo's call, the Wren, the Owl,
The distant howl from the farm behind the hill.

A girl walking through the student mass,
2000 and something and she's late for class.
The same now as it was back then
Same expreesion, same excuse
Running from ridicule and the latest news.

{Poem by Laura Harmon}

What We Call Love by Shanice Davis

Love: deep affection and warm feeling for another--this is love

A bloody sword
Resting on the battlefield
Obscured by rain

This is what we call love:
Yet it still thirsts
For the dead bodies on the ground
Forever untamed

This is what we call love:
A little boy standing on the porch
With his Marlboro in his mouth
And his daddy's shotgun in his hand
Waiting for an intruder

This is what we call love;
An arm crossing a chest
Like a hand going to the heart
This heart fighting for freedom

This is what we call love:
A black bird
Racing against the strong wind

{Poem by Shanice Davis}

A Poem by Rex Sexton

Sacred Rites

Moon Shadow was spiritual in the ancient Sioux way.
She spoke to the wind, the moon and the stars.
She married Night Walker on the top of Bear Butte.
It was a ceremony the Sacred Mountain had waited centuries to see.
That night, wild game crackled on spits.
There were drums, dancers, holy chants.
Night walker was a descendent of Medicine Men.
High chiefs traveled to Pine Ridge from faraway lands.
That was the legend.
Red Leaf drove in a daze.
His head was pounding.
His body pulsed with pain.
Was the Sacred Mountain getting closer?
He squinted through the desert blaze.
If he could make it to the mountain, his soul would return.
The jeep rocked on its wheel rims, bent out of shape.
Broken glass covered the dashboard, floor boards, seats.
His uniform was in shreds. His dog tags choked his neck.
He could walk faster, Red Leaf brooded, as he steered the creeping
jeep, if he were able to walk. He could swim the white rivers, leap
the quick streams, race though the forests, if he still had his legs.
Rainbow trout flew through the air.
Silver water cascaded down golden cliffs, crashing, careening along
tree lined river banks.
Rainbow trout leaping...
A rainbow arched across the sky.
The jeep rattled down the desert road, Red Leaf slumped inside,
until it hit another roadside bomb.

{Poem by Rex Sexton}

One Poem by Lindsay Thornell

Rosy Cheeks

I hide my face as I walk down the hall
The tears waterfall down rosy cheeks
Don't show them I'm scared
I hide my face as I walk down the hall
His embrace steals me for one second
But my dad must still go to Iraq
I hide my face as I walk down the hall
The tears waterfall down rosy cheeks

{Poem by Lindsay Thornell}