Poetry-Spring 2007-Pg-3
A Day in My Garden
by Wenona Napolitano
On my knees hands deep in the soil
dirt under my fingernails
digging, digging, digging away
The pungent smell of earth mingled with
the sweet smell of flowers
Hot sun beating down on my back
I plant the seeds and
nature will take its course
fill this barren space with life
and color
Blooms and blossoms will paint
this once dreary landscape
All day I work away until my knees
are bruised and my back is aching
Yet at the end of the day I am happy
I feel a sense of accomplishment
I know I am creating something beautiful
Bio: Wenona Napolitano is a freelance writer, editor and poet living in Flint, Michigan. A small business owner and married mother of three, she is always busy. It is amazing she can find the time to write at all. Being a night person, she writes after everyone else is sleeping.
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THE ROUNDNESS OF LIGHT
by Richard Fein
Light shines from the fire within, thus envisioned St. Augustine. An inborn flame that sparks the soul, warms and animates the body, then blazes blindingly behind the eyes. A cornucopia of radiance that sets glowing shafts out to pierce a dark cosmos. The Saint’s world view was the sum of inner flames cast from the eyes and the world’s reflection back into them. So the medieval feared the evil eye, for like a twisted carnival mirror it warped all image of divine creation. But then came Newton and Huygens who with precise equations plucked the mystery from the eyes, reducing them to holes in the skull, to indifferent doormen, allowing in all manner of heavenly and hellish waves and photons. Einstein first bent light beams. And Heisenberg turned them full circle, for the observer always alters the observed in a kaleidoscope of possibilities. There’s a matrimony of all that’s within and without us, consecrated by a wedding ring of light..
Bio: Richard Fein was a finalist in The 2004 Center for Book Arts Chapbook Competition. He has been published in many web and print journals, such as: Oregon East Southern Humanities Review, Touchstone, Windsor Review, Maverick, Parnassus Literary Review, Small Pond, Kansas Quarterly, Blue Unicorn, Exquisite Corpse, and many others. He also has an interest in digital photography and has published many of his photos. Samples of his photography can be found on http://www.pbase.com/bardofbyte photo album.
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Bamboo Flute
by Nadine Gallo
in a forest alone following Pan
through the branches surrounded
by birds of every feather, cry,
I hear the resonance, undistilled,
wafts of wind passing over
us quietly.
Into a cave where voices charm
us, cast spells, whisper rumors
from long ago, under the sea,
beneath mountains,
riding on wave crests, secrets
concerning mortality.
A shattered life, reclaimed by
sound, miracled into eternity,,
take me where I want to be. Here's
my ticket, bought at the door,
listening to the lion's roar.
Bio: Nadine Gallo publishes online at nextbigwriter.com and has been accepted for publication by Journal of Irreproducible Results, Spring issue 07, is working on 2 novels, short stories & poems. Uses Brosna11 nom de plume on nbw.com , Runs a workshop for writers in Hadley, MA. Uses Amherst Writers Method. Former teacher, grandmother, M.A. English Lit from U. Mass. Amherst. |
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zoo
life is an afterlife. and so we pet ourselves with syllogisms betting if it has bones it weeps with declaration stumbling through vivid moss
unnerved by the crickets of our own doing.
near blood praying for acupuncture. still requires testimony to fill the holes.
for no one can explain the mechanics of ownership that by which we leave pale crosses, stripped down flagpoles, future rods. which in turn make new holes
whether by swinging fearsome over the reservoir jar, shaking the nutshell stalks and graves for pocket fruit
or creating pairs of perfect bearings for the pendulum of an infinitely more acceptable same
these old prodigal crutches are thrown back into the forest of translation without a revolver
because I'm an exile a human eyelid and race by the perfume of chance towards zeitgeist and commerce and some new version of forgiving
while meanwhile, the best imitations of our portions go unserved for there is no cornucopia of halves - not yet life is an afterlife.
Bio:Peter Schwartz is the editor of 'eye' and the associate art editor of Mad Hatters' Review. He has hundreds of publications in such journals as Porcupine, Epicenter, Color Wheel, and Vox. His paintings can be found all over the Internet or directly at: www.sitrahahra.com. He's nice.
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