My Cat and I I remember the times I’d settle in bed, a book in my hands, blanketed by the sweet silence of night that would whisk me away from the stresses of day and my eyelids would droop like drapes as I gently slipped into sleep, but that was before our plush lump of a beast, our cat, white as an unblemished field of snow, with the low steady rumble of distant thunder, the om of a muddied day...my book, his pillow, each new page, his dominion marked with the whoosh of his full furry tail. His nightly soundtrack of purrs drowning my own efforts to read, my fingers pushing his paws gently to reveal words, his paws dancing with my fingers in this shadowed tango of wills. Two missions at bay, mine to read, his to rest or play, that merged over time, but only because I grew weary of trying to win. Our cat’s gone now. No flying fur, no purring to distract me, no paws to cause me to lose my place. Just my book and I. Just my book and I. Shelly Blankman Shelly Blankman and her husband Jon are empty-nesters who live in Columbia, Maryland with their 4 cat rescues. They have two sons: Richard, 32, of New York, and Joshua, 30, of San Antonio. Shelly's first love has always been poetry, although her career has generally followed the path of public relations/journalism. Her poetry has been published by Ekphrastic: writing and art on art and writing, Silver Birch Press, Verse-Virtual, and Visual Verse.
3 Comments
Balcony When Wendy said she wanted a yacht he painted her a harbor with no horizon so flat against the picture plane boats almost tumbled from Lavender Bay into their room. She always checked the carpet in case water had poured down the walls. Mercedes Webb-Pullman Mercedes Webb-Pullman started writing in 2007 and graduated from IIML Victoria University with MA in Creative Writing 2011. Her work has appeared in Turbine, 4th Floor, Swamp, Reconfigurations, The Electronic Bridge, Otoliths, Connotations, The Red Room, Typewriter Silver Birch Press, and Cliterature, among others, and in her books. The latest, The Jean Genie, explores the work of Jean Genet. She lives on the Kapiti Coast, New Zealand. On a Connect-the-Dots
A woman hangs her heart on a piercing hook. Casts her line across a lake. Draw lines between locations. Ancient men divot the sand with sticks and fingers. The inverted colour image of a section of galaxy. Black stars on a white background. Christmas lights exposed by day. No city-by-night, but nude connective wires. A bowl full of grapes, a bull, a man clubbing a lion. A hand, a foot, shoulder, eye. The forgotten distance. The dust of the erasure of lines swept to the floor. The end of every sentence scattered like seeds. The drawn silence. Gregory Stapp Gregory Stapp received his BA from the University of Oklahoma and his MFA from Queens University of Charlotte. His poems have appeared in Outside In Literary and Travel Magazine, the Gutters and Alleyways anthology, Limehawk Journal, Shot Glass, and Rat’s Ass Review, among others. He recently served as the Poetry Editor for Qu: A Literary Magazine. Mannequin
She would be perfect if she had arms or clothes. Her waist cinched even without a belt her legs crossed just so and though her breasts are full she has no nipples to embarrass anyone who notices that it’s colder inside the store than outside on the street where another woman watches or maybe it only looks like she watches. Someone older a little thicker around the waist with glasses framing her small black eyes Still someone else watches behind the lens recording the envy that tightens the corners of their smiles. Lori Gravley This poem is from an as of yet unpublished chapbook, titled On Seeing, responding to Elliott Erwitt’s photographs. Lori Gravley writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She earned her MFA from the University of Texas at El Paso. She has published poems in a variety of journals, recently including I-70 Review, Burningword, and Ekphrasis. She travels the world for her work as a USAID consultant, but her home is in Yellow Springs, Ohio. You can hear her read her own work and others' on Conrad's Corner and listen to her interviews with poets at WYSO Public Radio (www.wyso.org). Ernst Neuschul, Messias (1919)
The Messiah will be a psychopath crucifying you with his stare giving you no choice but to follow this starving Jew, this emaciated Übermensch, whose rib-cage is a prophecy. You will follow him along a yellow-brick road leading deep inside his self- portrait until all that is left of you is I. Jonathan Taylor Jonathan Taylor's books include the novels "Melissa" (Salt, 2015) and "Entertaining Strangers" (Salt, 2012), the memoir "Take Me Home" (Granta, 2007), and the poetry collection "Musicolepsy" (Shoestring, 2013). He is Lecturer in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester. His website is www.jonathanptaylor.co.uk." Lazarus
Lazarus arose from the dead after four days and then faced murder to prove it could happen. I took me twenty years to prove it and I didn’t even have to die first. I just stopped writing. At first my notebooks were very angry. Breathe! they hissed, each page compressing its weight onto my chest until I coughed and they forgave me. The world is complicated, dying is complicated, and what happens afterwards is anyone’s guess. Sometimes writing helps. Peter Taylor Peter Taylor has published Trainer, The Masons, and Aphorisms, and his experimental verse play, Antietam, won honourable mention in the international War Poetry Contest. His poems have appeared in Anansesem, Aperçus Quarterly, Call & Response, Contemporary Verse 2, Construction, The Copperfield Review, Descant, Eunoia, Fade, Forage, Frostwriting, The Glass Coin, Grain, Ink, Sweat & Tears, The Linnet’s Wings, Nether, Petrichor Review, Phantom Kangaroo, Pirene’s Fountain, Poetry Australia, Pyrta, and StepAway Magazine. He lives in Aurora, Ontario. |
The Ekphrastic Review
COOKIES/PRIVACY
This site uses cookies to deliver your best navigation experience this time and next. Continuing here means you consent to cookies. Thank you. Join us on Facebook:
Tickled Pink Contest
April 2024
|