Martyn-Phelips de Burgh

Perigrinari

I glide through bright reflective doors
And feel at one with your soul.
I flit through misty valleys,
Hissing with streams and thunderous lightning,
And imbibe the mead of forestial illumination.
Re-entering the room of sensation,
Our bodies simmer with humming pleasures. Intention
Anchors me to the night and pleasant chatter
Shutters out the visions, as we settle into somnolence.

{Poem by Martyn-Phelips de Burgh}

Gregory Liffick

Earthbound

Fancy flies
but
crashes
upon landing.
Unrealistic
wings
take off,
but lack
the
engineering
for coming
back to
earth.
The
momentary
rush
gives lift,
but passes
and all
falls
down.


Denial

In the
habit of
putting
cart
before horse.
Insures
not getting
anywhere
soon.
Not
longing
for the
travel
involved
with the
pursuit of
happiness.
What doesn't
come
at once,
do without.

{Poetry by Gregory Liffick}

Anne Britting Oleson

Sheet Music

First cornet, Irish reel, key of C,
arranged for military band.
Marked presto, ten measures rest to start.

Anyway, story of her whole life:
presto, quick; rest—just wait.
Valve oil time while listening,

discovering how the song plays on out,
pausing so she can join in later,
and not be too far wrong, since to play

trumpet is to be too obvious
for her own good really—anyone's:
a missed note is twice as wrong

when it is twice as loud.

{Poem by Anne Britting Oleson}

Cassandra V. Murphy

Changing Tides

Your face, so soft
Feels like silky cloth
Beneath my skin-
But your eyes look dim
As they search the room quite lost,
Tossing pupils up and down
To look around these bedroom walls.
Your smile falls, your laughter pauses.
You feel trapped, and I feel like a used mat
That you carelessly stepped on.
In my dreams I call to the birds
And whisper words about escape
From this growing hate
That is spreading in between us.

{Poem by Cassandra V. Murphy}

Joy Olree

Faithful Rose

Planted on a hill,
Watered and feed,
Left to grow,
Warmed by the sun,
Caressed by the wind,
Frozen by the cold,
Weathered by time,
Colored by the God,
Of all that would see,
The beauty of creation,
Faithful and strong,
Rose for love,
Friendship or death,
Rose for whatever,
Is needed at the time,
Year after year,
Sure as the sun sets,
And the moon rises,
The faithful rose,
Will rise once more,
It’s beauty for all to see

{Poem by Joy Olree}

K.D. Iredale

Predator Craving My Heart

You pursued me, unrelentingly,
Day and night-
Enticed me
To unexplored territory.
Until I caught the jungle fever.
Delirious,
The disease spread swiftly,
Until a piece of my heart
Was tattooed onto yours.

{Poem by K. D. Iredale}

Maryann Spikes

Sword and Sacrifice (Haiku)

Sword and sacrifice:
made in the essence of God--
treat others as self.

There is no true good?
Good is a construct of will?
Ever take offense?

Love others as self:
no construct, no evolved good--
eternal essence.

Accept nothing less:
constructs do not obligate--
only love fulfills.

Goodness will always
withstand the fire of reason
and love, resonate.

Not even God willed
goodness into becoming
but IS that goodness.

The highest truth is
discovered, not created:
love your enemy.

Love is not love if
there is no demonstration--
Sword and Sacrifice.

{Poem by Maryann Spikes}

Jeanne Fiedler

Dusk

Sparrows ...strolling...kissing
Take flight! Take flight!
The Earth is trembling
Distress is lurking
Fly...Fly... Away
Your soft brown silhouettes
on the delicate hazel
shadows of the branches
hiding from the sun...
How beautifully you fit
in the stillness of love
Your tawny wings from above
Up and away..away and away
You've gone without a sound

{Poem by Jeanne Fiedler}

Peter Lattu

a review on Claiming the Spirit Within
edited by Marilyn Sewell

Claiming the Spirit Within: a Sourcebook of Women’s Poetry, edited by Marilyn Sewell, is a trove of contemporary poetry. Fossicking here will turn up gold and gems, Pulitzer winners and poets laureate. Marilyn Sewell parades forth some of the best: Sharon Olds, Lucille Clifton, Jane Kenyon, Erica Jong, Rita Dove, Denise Levertov, Anne Sexton, Jane Hirshfield, Molly Peacock, Mary Oliver, Maxine Kumin, Margaret Atwood, Nikki Giovanni, May Swenson, Louise Gluck, Linda Pastan, Muriel Rukeyser, and others.

There are some wonderful poems centered around cooking. Rhona McAdam, in “The Boston School of Cooking Cookbook” reflects on her mother’s cookbook, now in her own hands. McAdam sees the food stains, “the faded trail of silverfish”, the marginalia, and “a lifetime’s preparation vanished/ into our waiting mouths”. In “Retrospect in the Kitchen”, Maxine Kumin comes to grips with a death over a “boiling pot/ of cloves, cinnamon, sugar” and plums. Lin Max, in “The Piemaker”, hopes to have little girls in order to show them how it takes time “to get past wanting to quit” in order to make pies. Barbara Presnell learns about life and death with her mother, grandmother, aunt and herself while they all “snap heads from beans” and “unthread their sides” in “In the Kitchen We String Beans”. The kitchen is a great place to learn life’s lessons.

Some of Jane Kenyon’s best are here: “Yard Sale” reflects on generations as the “family’s belongings lie on the lawn”. “Trouble with Math in a One-Room Country School” shows how punishment can harden a heart against authority and change a child’s life in an instant. “Back from the City” charts a trip to New York City with its art and fine food that results in a startling epiphany about homelessness.

Laura Apol notes in “Woman of Light” that “lost poems are poems lost forever”. Marilyn Sewell’s collection brings us wonderful poems so that they are not lost but are here before us ready to read.

{Review by Peter Lattu}

Marissa Carney

Untitled

surely not your first
even second
or third
choice

but as water follows the
moon,
there i'll be on your shore

as the willow will always
weep,
i'll gather its tears to water your roots

i threaded the needle to mend your wounds
but you sewed them to mine,
yourself to me...

so as thunder is guaranteed
after the lightning streak,
so are you
held protected
under the eaves of my
heart

{Poetry by Marissa Carney}

Patrick T. Randolph

Tiny Child Pretending to Sleep

A whisper,
Mother’s kiss—
giggles explode.


Theater on the River

Turtle’s eyes
Observe clouds—
Water dancers!


The Voice

Breath poems—
in her ear—
Goosebumps build skin!

{Poetry by Patrick T. Randolph}