POEMS of EIGHT POETS
(Spring 2020, Volume 8)
(Spring 2020, Volume 8)
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Emily Strauss
Swimming in You Let me swim in you, sea coiled in tresses across my shoulders down my naked back cool water shivering me I break for the surface forehead to the hot sun momentarily then sink again you chilling thick abundance azure turquoise depths dropping to black, I emerge into you as a fairy into night mingling in some middle zone winding through my hair. Let me swim deeply-- you will enfold me flowing in your currents I drift content without thoughts watching colored fishes graze knowing you surround my open arms your blue-green rays shining the way to my rest, I will linger in you Ocean forever. Biographical information, favorite public domain poem. |
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Des Clark-Walker
Interfaces Restless ocean, wind over, gusty splashy-crested swells, white wavering free falling foam then, upwelling. Reflecting sea, a molten mirror breeze enlivened, sparkling, light leaping and flash dancing to the horizon. Resisting land, eroding, tidal flooding, wet ebbing, slow thrumming surf a turbulent three-phase contact zone. Biographical information, favorite public domain poem. |
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Charles Farrell Theilman
Family Farm Hot wind a coarse brush through black manes and cut hay. Dusk absorbs sunset's plaited gnosis into its deep blue wings. What survives this season turns its back to the sky, rests on dark arms and lets dry yellow stones fall into buried deltas. Lantern glow on wire coil, hooves plant crescents in loam while bales, lined up at arm's length, release their last green to starlight. Wagon, rein and halter, sweat crusted necks to sun-burned hands, sky a promise of more dust, of hot yellow light edging the shadows of five oaks. The swing-set chains and seats sway. The kitchen window becomes one beacon. Peer inside dark blue dusk. Biographical information, favorite public domain poem. |
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James G. Piatt
The Last Train In cold spherical winds Of earth bound absurdities, My fading breath carries That which is hidden Inside caches laden with Darkened secrets: This Reality slowly flows from the rusted rails of the Last train as it vanishes Bit by bit into the dark unforgiving spaces, of unbending veracity. It is then that I know. Biographical information, favorite public domain poem. |
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Brett Mertins
Short Song for a Stomped Cricket Few who hear your rhymes can bear the rub of wing on wing—a blurry black bow mating a trembling string; a record’s needle skating groove after groove—in an odd slide at love. Your two long days at work behind our hub, our quaking office copier—duplicating chirp over tonered chirp, anticipating your fair return—returned the classic drub. Today, you’re crushed not far from your sad shrub-- bent staples stemming a balled brush of dust-- where yesterday you squatted, serenading. Who lured you out? Did Beatrice, our olive- skinned temp, wear white? Was it for you, you guessed, blonde Laura, in line to copy, was waiting? Biographical information, favorite public domain poem. |
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Maxfield Lydum
Lip Stick Car Contrary to popular belief, Wild times abound when you cruise the valley in a Mormon Mary Kay car. See that car slice through the fog and leave lip stick stains on your asphalt cheek? It’s heading to the chandelier town near the river where high school girls walk 7 white huskies kids shoot hoops. Mormon Mary Kay squeals stop and dumps contents into the glass delicate night. Out comes pearled beauty of the night lip stick kisses and tight red dress dripping with intuition. But who can say why she doesn't come home to a bright chandelier? Who can wonder why she’s lonely in the Cadillac? Where can she go if her heels snap on the concrete? It’s really an urgent question. Biographical information, favorite public domain poem. |
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William Conelly
Forgiveness When words have passed away, leaving behind sad furrows, and we lie down to sleep on dark, eclipsing worlds, in our grave silences, the heart’s first precepts start to ease and mollify what language pressed apart, so we may turn at last, from spheres beyond this pall, and lightly touch before the darkness alters all. Biographical information, favorite public domain poem. |
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Avgi Meleti
Romel Forks I am this weird lady sitting by the window in black clothes. When I grow up, you will be able to see the feathers around my neck And the shadow that’s strangling me to death every night, in the darkness of my room. It may be the black lake of my spirit, but I cannot be sure. You see, my beloved Romel, the wind is blowing and ravens are coming. Ravens make me feel nervous and excited. I am really excited Romel. I cannot even describe to you why I decided to wear these old shoes. Do you remember my grandmother? The tall lady with the long plait And the sculptures in her breast pockets. She always cooked birds for you and these shoes are hers. You cannot fool me; I know she had given you all her forks. The ones I wanted. And I know where you keep them, but I am not a thief. Don’t call me a liar. When I grow up I will kill you to get the forks back. Look out of the window. Yes, now. Do you see the green valley? Spreading like a velvet leaf, I can hear it whispering to me every evening. The soil talks to me, the grass, the air, the weeds and the rain Even this old wallpaper talks to me, if I sit here with my pheasant. But these black crows scare me a little. It’s a different fear I feel. As if these birds can take my soul away. Grandma had never cooked a crow for you. I am not able to explain everything Romel and you are too dumb to understand my secret breaths, my whistling words and my rolling eyes. Do you want to paint me Romel? Biographical information, favorite public domain poem. |
