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POETRY   Spring 2008



Buddha in the Rain

     by Norma Sadler

You have to learn to soak up the day.

A jaded western way of thinking
Tries to find its way East where
A quiet Buddha
Sits with his legs bent
Looking up at the sky.

He stretches his arms out,
And the rain touches his fingers.
His fingers tremble at the touch.

He raises his hand to his mouth,
Presses water against parched lips
Feasting on the drops.
Blessings from the sky.

There is no thunder or lightning.
Just a gentle rain that brings up
The flavor of the earth and
The smell of wet stone
To his upturned nose.

The rain soothes his weary shoulders,
Trickles down the folds of his robe,
Slides over his crossed legs,
Soaks the moss-covered ground below.

His hands reach for the sky again.

Catch the rain, go ahead.
It's out there, waiting for you.

Norma's  work has been published in Japanophile,
NCTE Journal, Pembroke Magazine, St. Andrews Review,
The Cold Drill, Tamafyhr Mountain Poetry, Moondance
and others. Her book Multicultural Connections was
published by Scarecrow Press, a division of Rowan and


  Bird Feeder

    by Michael Lee Johnson


first flight
from balcony
to tree limb.
A chip of corn falls
from the feeder
to the ground.


Michael Lee Johnson  has published 145 poems in 2007 to date.  He is the author of: The Lost American:From Exile toFreedom:http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?isbn=0-595-46091-7.The book is also listed at Amazon.com, & Barnes & Noble.  Book review:http://www.compulsivereader.com/html/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=1777
Visit his website at: http://poetryman.mysite.com/.   He is now thepublisher, editor of Poetic Legacy,http://www.poetriclegacy.mysite.com/ ; and Birds By My Window: WillowTree Poems  at, http://birdsbywindow.blogspot.com/.  Both publications are now open for submissions.  Mp3 Audio files available on request for any of the poems.


  by Deborah Chaney


When did the earth tilt to separate expression from meaning?

Drifts of breath’s sounds in a language alien.

This distance chills my spirit, slows the heartbeat

Of my willingness to walk through the icy exhaust.

Indifference cloaks spontaneity of camaraderie,

The branches of closeness hang heavy with words

Unspoken, hoarded as if to starve me of warmth.

The sun peeks yet its light is muted by boredom.

I will not surrender the foundation of our past.

No, the discovery of what rests in your mind

Slumbering on a bed of disputed decision

Shall awake with the lucid clarity of my heart.

Give me a moment to glimpse there among

The spires of meaning - these sounds

Silenced without thought to result.

Stunting the growth of wonders, of merit.

Ah, a smile. The gateway to allowance.

The warmth of mercy with compassion

Shining against this friendship to glisten.

A forest of moments cannot be harvested.

We will walk among them in forgiveness.


Bio:Deborah Chaney has been writing since reading her first book at the
age of six. Most of her work is in a consistent state of 'in progress'.
She lives in Corvallis, Oregon with her husband and two dogs. The Green
Silk Journal published her short story, "A Visit in September" and a
poem. She has written a column for the local newspaper and is currently
writing two novels of fiction.



 by Penelope Taylor

Let us go



as we go


let us



into the life,

not the memories,

not the future,

but now

together as we are,





Bio:  Penelope Taylor's poetry has appeared in Literary Tonic,California Quarterly, The Tipton Poetry Journal and various other journals and zines. Poetry is her secret life. Born in England and raised in the U.S., she now lives at the bottom of the world following her dreams with her partner, Doc Louie who provides the good medicine of laughter in large and daily doses.