Sun Dance If only I could throw words onto the page like Jackson Pollock threw paint onto the canvas, a kind of divine anarchy, beautiful chaos celebrating nothing but itself, iridescent, dripping molten stalactites in flouro red, orange and green descending over the primordial world aeons before the red blaze cooled and life emerged, slowly, laboriously, from the cobalt blue. Neil Creighton This poem was originally published at One Sentence Poems. Neil Creighton is an Australian poet with a passion for social justice and a love of the natural world. Recent publications include Poetry Quarterly, Silver Birch Press, Praxis Online, South Florida Poetry Journal, and Verse-Virtual, where he is a contributing editor. His poetry blog is windofflowers.blogspot.com.au
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Christ Mocked by the Soldiers
Roualt’s Christ is sad but resilient. He refuses to answer his captors who taunt him as if they are in on a joke, as if they know who he is—just another phony prophet. Yet he remains true to his vision—he takes the long view, ignoring the pain, the blood, steeling himself for what he knows will come: thorny crown, blunt nails, long hours on the cross waiting for the wings that will fly him home. Ed Meek Ed Meek has had three books of poems published. The most recent is Spy Pond. This year a collection of his short stories, Luck, came out. He has poems coming out in Constellations, The Aurorean, The Kerf and The Paddock. He writes reviews for The Arts Fuse. |
The Ekphrastic Review
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