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Poetry 2 Spring 2019


The Trees Think in Solemn Tones

      by William Doreski

Even in winter drab the trees

think in solemn tones from which

we infer disaster’s coming.

The die-off of insects occurring

beneath our vision and skins

will sever the food chain and leave

cartoon exclamation points

etched in the sky overhead.


Not even your three sad years

fending off bullies and thugs

in the Girl Scouts can atone

sufficiently for the viscous

sound of souls abandoning

their exoskeletons to enter

space much broader and deeper

than our imaginations allow.


The trees consider the problem

from various elevations,

waving their wind-happy boughs,

and agree upon a solution.

If photosynthesis should cease

for one year we would smother

in our stony beds and relinquish

the scripture that dooms everything.


I hear this conspiracy texting

from one tree to another in

sobs of gray wind. But you doubt

that the trees are so organized,

and believe that like us they’d spurn

to share among different species:

ash disdainful of pine, maple

distrusting hemlocks and birch.                        


The die-off is real, though; only

the nastiest tree-killers likely

to survive: gypsy moth, ash

borer, Asian longhorn beetles

wooly adelgids, bark beetles, aphids.

Having survived the Girl Scouts,

shedding that scratchy uniform,

you aren’t afraid of these creatures.


But late at night when the chewing

and boring becomes audible

in the dark of the inner ear

I worry that the planet

isn’t dying quickly enough—

its suffering too personal

to scrawl in clumsy longhand

and nail to the tallest pine.


Bio:  William Doreski has published three critical studies and several collections of poetry. His poetry, essays, reviews, and fiction have appeared in many print and online journals. He has taught writing and literature at Emerson, Goddard, Boston University, and Keene State College. His most recent books are, A Black River, A Dark Fall, a poetry collection, and Train to Providence, a collaboration with photographer Rodger  Kingston. 







The Poet Celebrates Spring

  by Terri Hadley-Ward


I fall in love with the sun

when it creeps above the purple ridge

of mountain to rise on a new day.

I happily drown in the patter sound

of rain falling in spring.

Wonder fills my soul at the daffodils

who gaze with bright faces

like angels toward the blue.

Each day brings new miracles –

a fox trotting through a field,

the ragged caw of a raven,

sweet breath of violets

as they exhale in the morning stillness.

Just like Grandmother Maple, I open my arms

to embrace the world.

I shine my heart, blazing and fierce

as I whirl with the wind

and sing with the chickadee,

as I flow like the river

on and on and on…


Bio: Terri Hadley Ward gains inspiration from the sacred feminine and from being in nature. Her poems have appeared in The Greensilk Journal, The MOON magazine, When Women Waken, The Magnolia ReviewMountain Ink, Sage WomanSnapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing, and She Who Knows: a Magazine for Awakening Women. Her poetry chapbook, Songs of the Wild She, is available through Amazon. She lives in Hampshire County, WV with her husband and sons.



Snug Hollow

     by Barbara Brooks



outcroppings reach

towards azure sky’s dome

soon to be hidden by young leaves

of green.




rocks’ gray faces

trillium unveils its

ruby flower, fiddle head ferns




Green hill

cathedral shelters

trillium, larkspur. A silent

prayer soars.


Bio: Barbara Brooks is a retired physical therapist living in North Carolina and a member of the poetry group Poet Fools. She is an avid birder and has traveled extensively throughout the world viewing wild birds in their natural habitat. She frequently incorporates nature in her poetry as an extension of her love of the outdoors.  She has two chapbooks: The Catbird Sang and A Shell to Return to the Sea. She has had published poems in a number of eclectic journals such as Jellyfish WhispersTar River Poetry, Peregrine and Third Wednesday


Triumphant Day

  by  Eira Needham



Old rooster lifts his head to call -- arise
from slumber now
. Aurora deftly braids
vermilion ribbons through empurpled skies,
creating tapestries of wondrous shades.



A fresh bouquet exudes, as lacy dew

appliques meadows, where a blackcap sings

its flute-like flourish, perched within the yew.

Nearby a solitary church bell rings.



Soft flurries whiffle aspen leaves awake

as woodlands echo warbled melodies.

The welkin's licked with fiery tongues that break

through twilight’s opalescence. Dawn's reprise



crescendos through the earth; soon warmth is spread

as Sun now leaps triumphant from his bed.


Bio: Eira Needham is a retired teacher living in Birmingham UK. Her poetry has been published in print and online. Some of her publications are in Nine Muses Poetry, Better than Starbucks and Scarlet Leaf Review. She has also been Featured Writer in WestWard Quarterly and once came first in Inter Board Poetry Contest.






When Time Guided Our Day

  by James G. Piatt


A tear has fallen softly 

From a rose on the arbor,


A beautiful crimson rose

That holds memories I harbor:


Dry lemon balm and chocolate

Mint are weeping in dry loam,


Aromatic scents are gone that 

Covered the garden of our home:


The sweet bouquet of roses and,

Herbs have faded away, 


The garden is empty now as is

Time that guided our way.


Bio: James has had three collections of poetry, The Silent Pond, Ancient Rhythms, and Light, over 1,155 poems, four novels, and 35 short stories published. His poems have been nominated multiple times for both pushcart and best of web awards, and was the featured poet nine times in various magazines. He earned his BS and MA from California State Polytechnic University, and his doctorate from BYU.



      by Ute Carson

Come with me to a Texas meadow in the spring

and take in the sight of

yellow Agarita, white/green Milkweed, purple Asta.

Rest your eyes on the gorgeous Bluebonnets

with leaves the shape of thimbles

and the creamy orange Indian Paint Brush,

honoring Spanish botanists.

Shall we call the myriads of beautiful flowers our friends?

Some we gaze at from a distance,

some we pluck and press in a book,

some we bind into a bouquet,

from others we collect the seeds.

Their colors bewitch us,

their fragrance pleases our noses

but only one flower is picked

and gathered to the heart.



Bio: A writer from youth and an M.A. graduate in comparative literature from the University of Rochester, German-born Ute Carson published her first prose piece in 1977.  Colt Tailing, a 2004 novel, was a finalist for the Peter Taylor Book Award.  Carson’s story “The Fall” won Outrider Press’s Grand Prize and appeared in its short story and poetry anthology A Walk Through My Garden, 2007.  Her second novel In Transit was published in 2008. Her poems have appeared in numerous journals and magazines in the US and abroad. Carson’s poetry was featured on the televised Spoken Word Showcase 2009, 2010 and 2011, Channel Austin, Texas. A poetry collection, Just a Few Feathers was published in 2011. The poem “A Tangled Nest of Moments” placed second in the Eleventh International Poetry Competition 2012. Her chapbook Folding Washing was published in 2013 and her collection of poems My Gift to Life was nominated for the 2015 Pushcart Award Prize. Save the Last Kiss, a novella, was published in 2016.  Her new poetry collection Reflections was out in 2018. She received the Ovidiu-Bektore Literary Award 2018 from the Anticus Multicultural Association in Constanta, Romania. In 2018 she was nominated a second time for the Pushcart Award Prize by the Plain View Press. Ute Carson resides in Austin, Texas with her husband. They have three daughters, six grandchildren, a horse and a clowder of cats. www.utecarson.com