Haiku

lost childhood
the fading shades of a 
mother-of-pearl cloud
 
Judit Hollos

Judit Hollos is an emerging playwright, poet, essayist and journalist. Some of her short stories, poems, translations and articles have been featured in English and Swedish in literary magazines, periodicals and anthologies. She is the author of two chapbook collections of Japanese-style poetry and short prose. Her monologues and short plays were produced and received staged readings at theatres and festivals in Glasgow, San Francisco, London, Leicester, Liverpool, Birmingham and Kyiv.

Lost and Found 
  
Nine feet high
and twelve feet wide,
334 years old,
a masterpiece emerges
from obscurity.
 
Corpulent and naked,
Bacchus lolls
in leopard skin and light.
Round-bellied boys
wrestle a goat
as tan men skew
toward the frame

but dressed in pink,
it is the artist
who regards us,
one breast bared,
luminous.
 
Linda Scheller

Linda Scheller is a retired California Central Valley educator with two published books of poetry, Fierce Light and Wind & Children. Her writing appears widely in publications including Slipstream, Colorado Review, and RockPaperPoem. Ms. Scheller serves as vice president of Modesto-Stanislaus Poetry Center and programs for KCBP Community Radio. Her website is lindascheller.com.

​Magic Circle

It’s time for me to cast the spell.
My fire is lit, the coals aglow;
the potion steams and smoulders well --
I wait to see what I must know.

My fire is lit, the coals aglow;
I draw my circle with my wand.
I wait to see what I must know,
to gaze upon the world beyond.

I draw my circle with my wand;
I offer sprays of peonies
to gaze upon the world beyond.
I need to set my heart at ease.

I offer sprays of peonies;
these ravens cannot hurt me here.
I need to set my heart at ease --
this dreadful toad does not come near.

These ravens cannot hurt me here;
the scent deters all scorn and spite.
This dreadful toad does not come near --
the air shall fill with love tonight.

The scent deters all scorn and spite;
the potion steams and smoulders well.
The air shall fill with love tonight…
it’s time for me to cast the spell.

​F.F. Teague

F.F. Teague (Fliss) is a copyeditor/copywriter by day and a poet/composer come nightfall. She lives in Pittville, a suburb of Cheltenham (UK). Her poetry features in a number of journals and her second collection, Interruptus: A Poetry Year, will be published in 2025. Her other interests include art, film, and photography.

untitled

bathsheba is beautiful in any mood     she gets a letter and takes off her clothes to read it isn’t that what everybody does    no no the letter comes while she’s at her bath not like she’s going to put her clothes back on to read a letter especially when all of us need to see her as david did and presumably her soon-to-be-if-not-already-slaughtered husband so we can understand  why david acted as he did because any man who was king would do the same wouldn’t he   why is the bath the only part of her story we hear about it’s in her name for god’s sakes she must have done other things      she reads the letter and knows everything sad regret we can’t even consider the word choice      is the letter the invitation explanation proposal or command after the end of the inconvenient husband      who disobeys refuses a king    foreseeing all resigned to fate 
 
her beauty is her only power whether she uses it or not she is the king’s subject      as a boy I asked the child’s question why do we let anybody even a king get away with murder      still looking for answers to that one
 
I already knew the power of beauty the best-looking girl in our class had it in spades the taste-maker even the teacher did not want to upset her a tall young man just married with a kid drove a metallic green comet with baby moon hubcaps made her his favourite      her life was outside my experience her dad drove the only thunderbird in town her aunt lived with the family she played piano two or three grades ahead of the rest of us      she played beautifully though she wanted no attention for that as if in her smashing burgundy outfit she felt a little apologetic as if it weren’t quite real      I remember riding my bike past her open window hearing her practise someone later to be a music teacher stopped there listening infatuated with the music or his idea of her     she went out with the drummer of the coolest band in the county whispering said he’d drop her if she wouldn’t sleep with him later when they split she went into nursing failed out that teacher called her up one night drunk and divorced and told her he’d always loved her and could he see her she was working by then in a nursing home      I always liked her I think she needed social reassurance more than she’d let on     we had that in common along with a long search for a better definition of beauty

Roy Geiger

A former college English teacher, Roy Geiger lives in London, Ontario, and spends a lot of time on Manitoulin Island. He has volunteered on the board of several long-standing reading series, including Antler River Poetry. His poems and short fiction have been anthologized and published in Grain, The Antigonish Review, the temz review, and The Ekphrastic Review.

Just a few more days to sign up for this four week course with yours truly at WOW! Women On Writing.

We will take a tour back in time to the roots of ekphrasis, read some amazing examples, look at ways to think and write about visual art, discuss ekphrastic submissions, and of course, work on generating a number of our own new works. Hope you can join us.

This course ran in the fall, and here is what participants said about it:

"Truly, you are one of the best teachers I've ever had!"
Karen F.

"Lorette's enthusiasm and wealth of knowledge about art combine to make her one of the most exciting and empowering workshop leaders I have ever had the joy of writing with. And the Hyperbole police would not arrest me for saying that! I was exposed to art I would never have looked twice at, and have learned how to linger and engage with the work and the artist. Her preparation, presentations and written feedback were thoughtful, generous and encouraging. an absolute delight!"
Susie Whelehan
​
"Lorette is one of the most vibrant, enthusiastic, and knowledgeable workshop leaders I’ve encountered, and I’ve worked with about a dozen of the top poets in the U.S., including Naomi Shihab Nye, Ted Kooser, and Jane Hirshfield."
Alarie T.

Register:
https://www.wow-womenonwriting.com/classroom/LoretteLuzajic_Ekphrasis.html

In March, there is another four week course, on Writing Prose Poetry. You can find more details here and register as well:

https://www.wow-womenonwriting.com/classroom/LoretteLuzajic_ProsePoetry.html

Nebula  

Forever rose 
             in double lines 
on a deserted road 
             when I was young, 
 
slowly converged 
             in blurred distance
with no hint 
             of meeting. 
 
Forever sang    
             a million tomorrows:
none of us considered 
            that no life 
 
could stretch that long.
             Forever slid 
off the tongue 
             with the ease of a kiss. 
 
Years later, Forever 
             rolled earth and sun 
into one, brilliant blues
             and startling
 
scarlet tinted green, 
             took shapes
no longer imagined 
             but lived, 
 
a lover, a child grown, 
             us growing old.
We began to glimpse 
             the never of Forever,
 
those highway lines 
             an inky nebula,
 nothing more
             than a nursery for new stars.

Joanne Durham

Joanne Durham is the author of To Drink from a Wider Bowl, winner of the Sinclair Poetry Prize (Evening Street Press 2022) and the chapbook, On Shifting Shoals (Kelsay Books 2023). Her poetry appears in Poetry South, Whale Road Review, Vox Populi, and many other journals and anthologies. She teaches workshops in ekphrastic poetry online and in person. Joanne lives on the North Carolina coast, with the ocean as her backyard and muse. Visit her at https://www.joannedurham.com. 

​Meeting on the Turret Stairs

Step up into my heart
and grant unto me the privilege,
the pleasure,
of your sweet embrace.

Think not of watchful eyes,
but of my familiar mouth.
Brief, brief! Yet--
I worship you whole.

Quivering bird-pulse,
I long for the nest of your arms.
Upward bound,
my dear dove in flight.

This blessed moment, this
is as syrupy-sour as
your fair kiss,
stolen in secret.

It is a gift held tight
to press upon your divine hand
-- Quick, oh, quick!
One final caress.

Grace Figueroa

Grace Figueroa is a Virginia native and life-long enthusiast of words. They are a current graduate student at Virginia Commonwealth University, pursuing a MA in Art History. Grace also holds a BA in Art History & Arts Management from Randolph-Macon College. They currently have a book review on myth reception forthcoming in the University of London’s postgraduate journal, New Classicists, and Grace’s poetry was published in the 2024 edition of Randolph-Macon College’s literary journal, The Stylus. If scholarship doesn’t work out, Grace will become a barista and work on the novel that they frequently allude to writing, or join the circus.

Do You Recall The Dawn Of Aesthetic Pursuit?
 
Mom always alerted us to her friend's misfortunes after a facelift. A rarity at the time. Mom thought it was the best way to become a monster since having one's skin pulled in the wrong direction led to keep submitting to the scalpel. I once met a girl at the Sporting Club who underwent a successful nose job. Much needed, some whispered. It certainly wasn't as bad as Remedios Varo's portrayal of a woman entering furtively a plastic surgeon's clinic at dusk and trying to conceal a majestic proboscis under a thin veil. In those days, everyone envied Candice Bergen's nose. We gossiped about a medical student who had hers done Bergen's style. Being the Prime Minister's daughter, she could afford the best surgeon. It seems that most starlets in the sixties had their features redesigned, and we loved unveiling secrets in celebrity magazines. I remember spending hours in front of the mirror as a teen, attempting to sculpt my body along imaginary lines. When I worked as a medical representative, I thought of having my nose done. During hospital calls, I consulted a plastic surgeon who said he liked my nose. Another one invited me to take photos in his clinic. I avoided them both. These two handsome men reconciled me with my looks. 
 
Hedy Habra

This was first published by Panoplyzine.

Hedy Habra's latest poetry collection, Or Did You Ever See The Other Side? won the 2024 International Poetry Book Award and was a Finalist for the Eric Hoffer Award and The USA Best Book Awards. The Taste of the Earth, won the Silver Nautilus Book Award and Honorable Mention for the Eric Hoffer Book Award; Tea in Heliopolis won the Best Poetry Book Award and Under Brushstrokes was a finalist for the International Poetry Book Award. Her story collection, Flying Carpets, won the Arab American Book Award’s Honorable Mention and was a finalist for the Eric Hoffer Award. Her book of criticism is Mundos alternos y artísticos en Vargas Llosa, She is a twenty one-time-nominee for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. https://www.hedyhabra.com/