Introverted
I’ll cast a smudge on a plaster wall, chin down with a flat brim to hide under. I’ll dwell on hands and frets, my black suit blending me to backstage, not like that dancer with yards of white taffeta too bulky for her grip, paused at a tilt or the sideliners swaying from the waist up, clapping overhead till it’s their turn to turn an ankle in a swoop of orange. I will sit in shadow and let my ears brim with riffled chords. The light that lifts the gathers of skirts will set me in soot. 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.
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The Sick Child (after W.H. Auden)
Ban every clock, exile the sundial, then level the patch of morning glory. Next, halt dusk, hush hellish owls. Dam the tide. God damn its hurry. Tear calendars from untimely walls. Gag sobs, mute a sorrow, bequeathed. Allow no bloom to wilt, let no petal fall. Hide the good book. Chase off the priest. Still, children willfully befriend death,. They pity caregivers, afflictions endured: blood on lips, the cost of each breath, a small smile reddened by fading words. Despair darkens this short afternoon. Curse time. Eternity arrives, far too soon. Cyndi MacMillan 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. This poem was written as part of the 20 Poem Challenge. Vigil
No dark so absolute no night so long as the one spent waiting at the bed of a sick child Her pale face like a fallen moon the only light in a dark room Her breath the only sound each one counted like the beads on a rosary each one a prayer, a promise a hard negotiation. Let the fever break with the morning let her rise with the sun or let this darkness swallow us all. Mary C. McCarthy Mary McCarthy has always been a writer, but spent most of her working life as a Registered Nurse. She has had many publications in journals, including Earth's Daughters, Caketrain, and The Evening Street Review, among others. She has only recently discovered the vibrant poetry communities on the internet, where there is so much to explore and enjoy. This poem was written as part of the ekphrastic 20 Poem Challenge. Entranced The dancer leans into the music one arm raised high the other gathering her skirts at the hip. Her head thrown back her feet beat a staccato rhythm on the floor. Her shadow rises, enormous, on the white wall behind her. Like a sorceress she pulls the audience into her spell. Under her shadow the musicians bend over their instruments intent on the performance unwilling to risk looking up into her fatal gaze. Mary McCarthy Mary McCarthy has always been a writer, but spent most of her working life as a Registered Nurse. She has had many publications in journals, including Earth's Daughters, Caketrain, and The Evening Street Review, among others. She has only recently discovered the vibrant poetry communities on the internet, where there is so much to explore and enjoy. This poem was written as part of the ekphrastic 20 Poem Challenge. Barcode 16 (after a painting by Marc Cooper)
Tropical downpour, Las Vegas evening through a blurry windshield. This study of contrast and colour mimics technology, a vertical rainbow, defying digital decoding. Robbi Nester Robbi Nester is the author of an ekphrastic chapbook titled Balance (White Violet, 2012) and other poetry collections. Her work has been published widely in journals and anthologies, including Cimarron Review, Broadsided, Silver Birch Press, Poemeleon, and Inlandia. This poem was written as part of the ekphrastic 20 Poem Challenge. Bathsheba Revelations illume curves -- those fatal loins glow and breasts forgive every deception. Hips eclipse Heaven as flesh begs for conspiracy. Ungodly plots burn between her thighs and prophesy groans as the king bows to lust, seeding perfect wisdom from a stained throne. Cyndi MacMillan This poem was written as part of the ekphrastic 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. Swallows by Benjamin Chee Chee
Sunshine sends shadow, he warns, then describes the feathering of his mother’s bangs and the spirit she could not find. Colour is a barrier, he warns, condemns the red man, seals him up in the coldness of infinite white. I draw what I see, he says, life between connecting lines, motion beyond simple confinement, the true purpose of flight. Cyndi MacMillan This poem was written as part of the ekphrastic 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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