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Fall  2013  Poetry 1









    by  John Grey

Eyes confront

a perfumed lamp,

a constellation’s bounty,

a wealth in darkness,

a priceless deep serenity


ochre eyelids                                                                                                                                                      ,

dew-laden eyelids like diamonds,


from the resin



he fancied how

he might choose

his open palm,

how all

was up for splendor,

in ceaseless meditation



wove the nude stare

of his mind,

at once indigo

or deep green

as dampened trees


Olympian eye

on a tripod stood

opened wide,

pale sapphire stone,



Bio: John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in International Poetry Review, Sanskrit and the science fiction anthology, “Futuredaze” with work upcoming in Clackamas Literary Review, New Orphic Review and Thema.



     by Glenda Walker

Do not tell me what is not magic.
I do not need you to explain it away
or be logical or tell me it is not real.
It does not matter
For to me it is all Magic!
All life is magic and mystery
Tears burn beneath my eyelids
at the thought that you
cannot /will not see
and do not know this!
Do not explain away my magic
For I hold it tight
within my cells
in my blood
in my knowing
It is a part of me
and you as well.
Perhaps it is madness
this pure, inexhaustible joy
that makes me weep
for no reason
and for all reasons
all seasons and all of me

This magic madness of life.




   by Glenda Walker

Raven- the dark side
Fall into my feathers and fly!
We hurt- we cry.
We turn around and scream
while doing nothing
just complain
just shut up
just let it go
just fight-
Give up.
Smile, be a good girl
hand to mouth
take what you have been given
Turn, turn...
Turn the darkness into light
The serpent sheds it's skin-
multicolored and hued.
Dross into diamonds
The butterfly struggles out of it's cocoon
An inner knowing
a joy- a remembrance
A freedom to expand
To be - to act- to know

Red- as as a rose,
as the heart - as heat
rising off of the pavement
into the heavens
Leaving us satiated, saturated
Content, determined
But aware of the work left to do.
Bio: Glenda the good witch Walker is a 58 year young old soul who believes everyone is an artist. In her spare time, she creates magical art, music, and poetry.  She still believes in Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy, and the intrinsic good in all people.


         by Lark Beltran
Newborn leaves:
Newborn lives
from God´s matrix come to be,
cling and grow,
seek and know,
court the human quandary.
Verdant leaves:
Valiant lives
garnishing their family tree
catch the gleam,
catch the gloom
of the earthly odyssey.
Falling leaves:
Failing lives
fade from this reality.
There falls one ...
there fell ten,
lost their grip and tumble free,
softly paging you and me.
Tumble down ...
dirt is brown,
radiance beyond, around.
Bio: Lark is  originally from California but has lived in Peru for over half her life as an ESL teacher.  Over the past several years, quite a few of her poems have been published in online and offline journals.