Poetry 3 Spring 2012

 

 

     

"Community"- A Poem

    by Carolyn Wolfe

 

Community has changed it's definition

my community is offline and online pagans,

poets and progressives

musicians and artists

from Countries I may never visit,

but there we are

sharing a joke

sharing an ideal

sharing a moment

worried about earthquakes

poetic license

animal rights

each other...

my definition of community is.....

you,

out there,

listening.... 

 

 

Bio: Carolyn Wolfe is a free lance writer, poet, and author of six books including her collections of poetry, short stories and bedtime stories for children.  In May 2012  her sixth book, the illustrated children's book "The Unhappy Little Dragon, Lessons Learned" will be on a Virtual Book Tour,  and featured on many  children's author blogs, complete with  interviews and reviews of her book which reveals the story  of Happy, and unhappy little dragon, who, while trying to understand how to master his uncontrollable gift of fire, has an exciting adventure in the woods and  discovers he is a very special dragon after all. Carolyn also hosts a poetry group, "The Downtown Poets of Winchester" a monthly meetup group that also does performances of their poetry throughout the area. Ms. Wolfe lives in the Shenandoah Valley with her Photographer, husband Scott, and her houseful of animal companions. For more information, please visit her website at: www.whenthemoonspeaks.com.
 

 

 

 

In a Bubble of Bliss

      For Kaius

 

     by Ute Carson

 

 

In the cradle of my arms

 

I safeguard my baby’s sleep,

 

and my emotions envelop my heart

 

in a snug embrace.

 

For a while, before the baby wakes,

 

I live in a bubble of bliss.


 


Each awakening is a leaving.

Children carry the ball of life forward,


run with it, make goals, miss targets,


fumble it, kick it in disappointment,


and toss it in and out of relationships.


They move on


and their future rolls out of my sight.


 

Until one day, unexpectedly,

a child or grandchild turns around


and throws the ball backwards:


“Catch, Mama,”


“Catch, Gran.”


 

 For a moment I live again

 

 in a bubble of bliss.

 

 

Bio: A writer from youth, German-born Ute Carson’s first story was published in 1977. Her story “The Fall” won the Grand Prize for Prose and was published in the short story and poetry anthology, A Walk Through My Garden, Outrider Press, Chicago 2007. Her novel “Colt Tailing” was published in September 2004 and was a Finalist for the Peter Taylor Book Award Prize for the Novel. Her second novel “In Transit” was published in 2008. Her poems have appeared in Arts & Letters Magazine, The Barricade, The Texas Observer, TheWriterWithin, The Jimson Journal, Secret Attic, The Inkpot Press, The Blind Press, Timbuktu (UK), Decanto (UK), EarthLove Magazine  (UK), AWEN, Atlantean Publishing (UK), Lyricalpassion Poetry, Literary Magic, FreeXpression, (AU), Shots (UK), and Dreamcatcher. Carson’s poetry was featured on the televised Spoken Word Showcase 2009, 2010 and 2011, ChannelAustin, TX. Carson’s first volume of poetry “Just A Few Feathers” was published by PlainView Press in April 2011.   An Advanced Certified Clinical Hypnotist, Ute Carson resides in Austin, Texas with her husband. They have three daughters, five grandchildren, a horse and a number of cats.

 

 

 

 

 Lost Fortune

     by Eric Sandstrom

The door closed with a bang
dust rose in the streaming light
alone in the hot afternoon
he loosened his tie
Retrieved his hat
Turned off the light, and
His measured footsteps
Echoed in the hallway

 

Bio: Eric Sandstrom lives in Gerrardstown, WV.  Originally from PA, he has made WV his home for the past 20 years.  Eric has been involved in the arts since the 1980’s when he was a film student at Ithaca College.  He is currently involved in several music and writing projects, and continues to follow his passion for poetry. 

 

 

Their Beekeeper's Moon

     by Daniel Wilcox

 

Their beekeeper’s moon lasted only several phases

                         

                           of love’s eternal sphere;

 

   too quickly the warm honey of fired passion, the illumined glow…

 

                                                          —all those amorous-vesseled words

 

                                         emptied,

 

no wined days

                                            or champagne-giddy nights

 

                                                                    only

 

                                                                            pain-flask-jarring

 

 

                                                    loss;

 

 

                          then

 

broken with dishearten

 

                           their lacerated lives

                                                                   scattered into

 

                                                   loose shards,                  

 

                                                                       glass-chasmed

                                                                                           

                                                        and   w     i     d      e     n    e   d---

 

 

a barren landfill

 

                                 of middle years,

 

                                                    their debris-ed evenings…

 

                                                   

                        his wandering looks,

                                                                                her sidetracked eyes,

 

 

                                    meant

                                                  seemingly

 

no keeper's hope remained.

 

                                                                          However

 

              graciously in elder-treed age, 

 

                                                              old scars healed and new buds came,

 

a fresh phase of shine

 

                                 shone in their faces,

 

                                                            

                                              the nectared honey of freely choosing

 

 

 chosen love—the lasting passion.

 

Bio: Daniel Wilcox's wandering lines have appeared in many magazines including Front Porch Review, Quill & Parchment, and Unlikely Stories. Two collections of his published poetry are in print. Before that he hiked through Nebraska, Cal State Long Beach (Creative Writing), Montana, Pennsylvania, Europe, Palestine/Israel...worked in a mental institution, helped on a reservation, and taught students literature for years. He now lives with his wife on the central coast of California with their hyper-cat, Fizzy, her coloring like the soda-fizz drink of the 60’s.