Triggers
What can a man swallow -- a childhood, suds in mouth; daily bitters; an uncle who said, kneel, oh, such a good boy; two dozen Olympic pools filled with whisky; three teeth; flies in dumpsters; pride; the recruiter lies; bile and blood from combat; pain; a flood of painkillers; nightmares, one child with no face; stares from strangers. What can swallow a man -- inaccessible doors suddenly opening; a haunting encounter; French kisses that saunter; curves flushed from a bath; hush after wedding bells; office politics, two hellish promotions; impending fatherhood; inconceivable miscarriages; an affair; a deserved desertion; ALS; rare resignation, signing a last will and testament. Man, a swallow can shock even the ceiling as a bullet shatters what had calmed beneath -- a hit and miss life; one throbbing scar; the target of tears; all capped teeth. Cyndi MacMillan This poem was written as part of the 20 Poem Challenge. Cyndi MacMillan poetry has recently appeared in Grain Magazine and the Fieldstone Review. Her verse, short fiction and novel-in-progress resentfully compete for her attention. She lives in New Hamburg, Ontario, home to North America’s largest working water wheel. Coffee and family allow ideas to percolate.
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Soar Above All
snow blind sky snow blind they soar soar on winter winds soar past the roost roost in the barn roost near the seeds seeds of rye fields seeds of the fall fall was the last warmth fall of the snow snow which slows snow which hides hides the pine cones hides the winter berries winter berries of holly winter grapes sun dried dried in the august heat dried on the vine vines twine of gray vines slash like wings wings of the swallow wings of the jay jay on a sunny day jay blue white sky sky blue to white sky falling to night night when the barns warm night when the winds high high in the rafters high in the bales bales which bring heat bales which make nests nests for the swallows nests for the mice mice from the rye field mice for the stray cats cats on the prowl cats seeking warmth warmth near the cattle warmth under wings wings plumped with feathers wings longing to fly fly in the still air fly after the snow snow covers fields snow covers it all all seek the sunlight all seek the seed seed sunlight Deborah Guzzi This poem was written as part of the 20 Poem Challenge. Deborah Guzzi is a healing facilitator specializing in Shiatsu and Reiki. She writes for Massage and Aromatherapy publications. She travels the world seeking writing inspiration. She has walked the Great Wall of China and visited Nepal (during the civil war), Japan, Egypt (two weeks before “The Arab Spring”), Peru, and France (during December’s terrorist attacks). Her poetry appears in Magazines: here/there: poetry in the UK, Existere - Journal of Arts and Literature in Canada, Tincture in Australia, Cha: Asian Literary Review, Hong Kong, China, Eunoia in Singapore, Latchkey Tales in New Zealand, Vine Leaves Literary Journal in Greece, mgv2>publishing in France, RedLeaf Poetry, India and Travel by the Book, Ribbons: Tanka Society of America Journal, Sounding Review, Kyso Flash, The Aurorean, Crack the Spine Literary Magazine, Liquid Imagination, Poetry Quarterly, Page & Spine and others in the USA. Her new book The Hurricane is available now through Prolific Press. Blood Masks the Lea
Blood masks the lea, the blasted loam upon whose breasts soldiers came home. The earth, herself, held each to chest the mist of sky killed with each breath as ruined green became their tomb. Men strafed by shells and gassed by fume: cast akimbo, blown to their doom entrenched, barb fenced; death coalesced; blood masks the lea. Eight million French, their valor shown; most shy twenty lay beneath stone: Russians, Brits, Italians, Yanks, rest thirty seven million, our best slaughtered and listed in old tomes; blood masks the lea. French Rondeau after: Flanders Fields by John McCrae Polyethylene Apathy
“Plastic is entirely engulfed in its usage: one of these days objects will be invented merely for the pleasure of using them.”- Rolland Barthes, “Plastic,” from Mythologies The public protests for its absence, a chemical surplus whose molecular makeup is replaced by a new synthetic sibling. You were a small monomer when Christmas consisted of rituals, gathering plastic barricade for your own sentimental security. Now past macromolecular pleasures risk economic existence and enjoyment for the future generation. Fingers no longer setting off inflated stumps as loud as aftershave to the sound of their obsessive compulsion. Ryan Racine Too Hot
I could dissolve like a mirage of wings slicing through sky and disappearing, weightless, in air so heavy it makes no updraft on bleached-out feathers, last bird on earth. Sarah Carleton Sarah Carleton writes, edits, plays the banjo and raises her son in Tampa, Florida. Her poems have appeared in Houseboat, Burning Word Literary Journal, Avatar Review, Poetry Quarterly, The Bijou Poetry Review, Off the Coast, Shark Reef, Wild Violet Magazine, The Binnacle, The Homestead Review, Cider Press Review and Nimrod. She also has work upcoming in Silver Birch and Chattahoochee Review. This poem was written as part of the 20 Poem Challenge. Girl Interrupted at Her Music
She felt her heart pound with every note, and tried to keep her arm steady so he wouldn’t know. Master and student. And when he stopped. she could still feel his warm breath on her neck, his long fingers stroking hers, gently tickling them as if he were courting her in song. She turned away in silence, not wanting him to see her chin tremble, her eyes well with tears, knowing she would soon have to leave the secret of her lesson behind. Michele Hyatt-Blankman This poem was written for the 20 Poem Challenge. Michele Hyatt-Blankman began writing stories and poetry from a very early age, beginning a lifelong interest in both. She expanded her interests to journalism at Marshall University, where she was a Graduate Teaching Assistant. Following years in public relations and copy editing, she now spends time at home with her husband Jon, a retired school teacher, trying to keep her 4 cats out of trouble. She is also a proud mom of 2 sons, Richard, 31, and Joshua 29, living in NY and Texas, respectively. Swallows frail beauty-- scissoring the sky on indigo wings hope…soaring on wingless winds taking leave-- gathering courage as you fly Mary Kendall
This poem was written for the 20 Poem Challenge. Mary Kendall lives in the lovely town of Chapel Hill, North Carolina where she writes poetry and blogs at A Poet in Time: http://www.apoetintime.com. Her work appears in a variety of print and online publications as well as in her chapbook, Erasing the Doubt, published by Finishing Line Press in 2015. Patterns
I search for the patterns in all things, rhythmically counting to myself; enumeration extremis. 1-2-2-1. 1-2-3-2-1. I count while washing dishes, bathing my children, grocery shopping, walking. I cannot stop the habit. eyes scrutinize wanting only the green jelly beans Joann Grisetti Joann Grisetti grew up in Sasebo Japan and eighteen other places. She now lives in Florida with her husband and two sons. Her poetry, photos and stories have appeared in a number of print and online journals. |
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