Christina Cole

Growth Spurt

After one summer,
the little ballerina,
grows out of all her clothes,
and her lifelong dream too.
How sad it is to be
past your prime
at the age of fourteen.

{Poem by Christina Cole}

New Book by Luke Armstrong

iPoems for the Dolphins to Click Home About is a book of poetry and fun having nothing to do with dolphins. It is for poetry lovers and haters. A richly eccentric book, it delves into themes at the heart of it all: love, loss, and how to kidnap your neighbor´s cat using a lunch box. The book´s 50 poems prove that poetry can be fun and at the same time meaningful and beautiful. These are not the poems your grandma read. These are the poems she wished she had read. iPoem´s verses reveal simple, accessible truths to intrepid readers. "We want to be constantly shown and to constantly show higher vantage points," one line echoes and then answers, "We want magic carpets to carry us under shimmering stars / above everyone else´s lives, where tough questions instead / of being answered are set aside for higher simplicity." iPoems unassumingly achieves this higher simplicity. Its naked truths dig deeply, while its lyrical lines resonate richly. Instead of following the tired modes of poetry´s past, it gives its wistful readers a new verse for the new world.

iPoems for the Dolphins to Click Home About is available for purchase at Amazon.com. http://www.amazon.com/iPoems-Dolphins-Click-Home-About/dp/1451555865/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1281048366&sr=8-1)

Susan Marie Davniero

Words of Peace

One day
The peaceful way
In a world of sin
Peace starts within
Peace is a must
Help and care
Love to share
No war or wrath
The peaceful path
One day
I pray
War will cease
Let there be peace
And let it begin
With the peace within

{Poem by Susan Marie Davniero}

Kathryn Warrender

Dance in the Rain

Let’s dance in the rain,
And feel the cool tears
Of the Earth
Cleanse our bodies,
Softly, roughly, sweetly.
Listen to the melodic pattern,
As we hold each other close.
Listen, just listen.
Nature whispers
When her mother cries.
So faintly, so gently,
My skin prickles
As your heat
Penetrates me heart.
Your breath, like fire,
Burning with the desire of your lips.
So close,
I lean in to kiss you,
To unite as one
Beneath the darkened sky.


Sorrow and Guilt

To rekindle the life back within us,
Can I do it?
With the damage done,
What can I do to repent?
Though I do not believe in God,
I feel like I committed a deadly sin.
I want to heal the fatal wounds,
Mend them with hope and love.
Is there some way
For us to forget the past?
I want to be happy again,
Those blissful moments
Are lost to the wind,
Like the leaves in autumn.
Oh, sweet gentle boy,
Can we ever recover
From the memories of battle?
The devastation of war is brutal,
And I cannot help
But feel shame.
I want to move on,
Hold your hand in mine
And live freely,
But why does my heart
Continue to bleed sorrow and guilt?

{Poetry by Kathryn Warrender}

Ron Koppelberger

A Saying Told

Secure, halfway between calm and quiet dreams, within the
Melancholy of nourishments undone, required by the sacrifice
Of amused touch and express angels in matched
Pairs of presence, a saying told by the years
And the breath of a humble alliance, raved, retrieved, disturbed
And put under the amends of a lasting peace, a riot untold
By the sweet caress of a quiet eyed sun, a desire taught by
The dust of an ancient song.

{Poem by Ron Koppelberger}

K.D. Iredale

What the Night Holds in Store

A cloak-and-dagger
Hang at the door.
Desire Hush!
Your passion I implore
And you take my soul
To have and to hold.

{Poem by K.D. Iredale}

Peter Lattu

From Both Sides Now: A Review

From Both Sides Now, edited by Phillip Murray, features “the poetry of the Vietnam War and its aftermath”, written by poets who lived through the war. As its title proclaims, this is an anthology of poems by GI’s, Viet Cong, North Vietnamese Army, Vietnamese civilians, boat people, veterans and even peace demonstrators in the USA. One relives the Vietnam War from all sides.

The anthology records the brutality of the American campaign against the Vietnamese, no matter whether combatant or noncombatant. American bombing and the use of napalm and Agent Orange wrought havoc indiscriminately. My Lai was not an isolated incident. Memory, however, can be selective, remembering only our misdeeds. Elliot Richman, in “A Poison Tree”, starkly describes the butchery of “seven guys from the 7th Cav” by the Viet Cong. The war was waged savagely by both sides.

America’s young paid a high price in Vietnam. In “Midnight at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial”, W. D. Ehrhart chronicles the rite of passage back then:

Fifty-eight thousand American dead,
average age nineteen years, six months.
Get a driver’s license,
graduate from high school,
die.

These young men never had a chance to live because of a war of dubious value. The survivors paid a high price too. In “Peer Group”, Bill Shields observes that Vietnam vets have “the highest rate/ of alcoholism & drug abuse & divorce/ & mental illness & suicide” of any group of Americans. Again in “Miles of Bones” Shields notes the disconcerting fact that “the number of Vietnam/ veteran suicides… equals the names on the Wall”.
This poetry damns America for not doing enough for the survivors.

Poetry strips experience down to its essential kernel of truth. From Both Sides Now is a history through poetry of the war told with an emotional veracity that news stories and history books do not touch with their chronicling of events.

{Written by Peter Lattu, May 2010}

Henry Sosnowski

Reno Rain

Burrowing into bliss
two lovers
God’s children
aboard a downy raft
of pillows, comforter
soft flannel sheets
hearing only
hearts pulsing
in time
with rooftop
raindrops
two lovers
praying this
never stops
knowing this
fleeting moment
this heat
these tandem
heartbeats are
as precious
as rare
as Reno rain.

{Poem by Henry Sosnowski}

Gregory Liffick

Religion

Making
saints
of weak
impulses.
Seeing
in every
deadly sin
necessary
miracles
for canon-
ization
of self-
indulgence.
Building
a teetering
church
on a
crumbling,
unsteady
rock.


Immemorial

The bones
of old
contention
poke up
through
lasting
battle-
grounds.
We trip
over
the
skeletons
of past
wars
of hearts
and minds.

{Poetry by Gregory Liffick}