The Moon’s surface – Bojana Stojcic

 

My face is the side

the Earth always sees

 

It knows not this body

battered by collisions nor

 

this heart whose craters are

hundreds of meters deep

 

a testament to the

bombardments it has suffered

 

 

Bojana Stojcic is a teacher from Serbia, living in Germany. Her poems and flash pieces have been published in Rust + Moth, Anti-Heroin Chic, Barren Magazine, Spelk, XRAY, The Opiate, and elsewhere. She blogs at Coffee and Confessions to Go and is currently working on a collection of flash fiction/prose poetry.

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March 23, 2020 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: body, Bojana Stojcic, bombardments, collision, craters, creative, creativity, earth, face, Germany, heart, knowledge, meters, moon, poem, Poetry, Serbia, side, sight, suffering, surface, testament, writing 19 Comments

Once in a blue moon – Bojana Stojcic

 

My blood moon

he used to call me

because i blushed

every time

his shadow

descended

upon my slopes

 

He’d point

his face toward me

and howl

 

 

Bojana Stojcic is a teacher from Serbia, living in Germany. Her poems and flash pieces have been published in Rust + Moth, Anti-Heroin Chic, Barren Magazine, Spelk, XRAY, The Opiate, and elsewhere. She blogs at Coffee and Confessions to Go and is currently working on a collection of flash fiction/prose poetry.

March 1, 2020March 1, 2020 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: blood, blue, blush, Bojana Stojcic, change, creative, creativity, descend, face, Germany, howl, moon, name, nature, poem, Poetry, point, Serbia, shadow, sky, slopes, space, writing 19 Comments

Traveller – Ali Jones

 

He arrived, a long washed sailor,

over the rolling sea, making home

because he likes what he sees;

the waist nipped flouncers in sky

high heels, he brings them sunshine,

 

in the grey northern streets, freestyles

beats, wears flip flops with no thought

for others. He wants to fit in though,

with winkle-pickers and pool cue crowds,

not with grim suited pen-pushers.

 

Under his feet, colours splatter the pavement,

smiles spread silently across his face,

he hears old ladies whisper, scandalised,

then turn silently away;

he wears the world well.

 

 

Ali Jones is a teacher and mother of three. Her work has appeared in Fire, Poetry Rivals, Strange Poetry, Ink Sweat and Tears, Snakeskin Poetry, Atrium, Mother’s Milk Books, Breastfeeding Matters, Breastfeeding Today and Green Parent magazine. She has also written for The Guardian.

February 11, 2018February 11, 2018 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: Ali Jones, arrival, colours, creative, creativity, elements, face, feet, home, nature, poem, Poetry, sailor, sea, silence, sky, smiles, streets, sunshine, travel, whisper, world, writing Leave a comment

The Oblong Mirror – Adrian Slonaker

 

On one side

of the oblong mirror

framed in silver and peridot,

I am your woman.

You are my man.

We ride for hours in my cozy Packard

under Cassiopeia and the Little Bear, 

listening to staticky fados

and spot-off weather reports

while talking with touches.

It’s the way it should be,

it must be.

Or maybe you are my woman,

and I am your man,

as I piece together the shards,

the glimmers,

the nuances of the mirror’s other face.

 

 

Adrian Slonaker works as a copywriter and copy editor in St. John’s, Newfoundland, Canada. Adrian’s poetry has appeared in Dodging the Rain, Red Fez, Amaryllis, The Remembered Arts Journal, Squawk Back and others.

January 25, 2018January 25, 2018 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: Adrian Slonaker, Canada, creative, creativity, face, frame, glimmers, hours, humanity, mirror, nuances, oblong, peridot, poem, Poetry, relationship, senses, shards, side, silver, stars, talk, writing Leave a comment

Pacific Black Duck – Ion Corcos

 

Head plunged into water,

body upturned, rear protruding

from the shallow creek.

 

Tongue like a piston, he sucks water,

thrusts it from his wide grey bill,

sieves insects and seeds.

 

Soft brown feathers edged in cream,

brown-streaked eye, buff face,

he surfaces.

 

On the grassy banks,

a female calls; a raucous quack.

 

He flaps his wings, iridescent green,

climbs onto shore.

 

 

Ion Corcos has been published in Grey Sparrow Journal, Clear Poetry, Communion, The High Window and other journals. He is a Pushcart Prize nominee. Ion is a nature lover and a supporter of animal rights. He is currently travelling indefinitely with his partner, Lisa. Ion’s website iswww.ioncorcos.wordpress.com.

November 30, 2017 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: animal, banks, bird, colours, creative, creativity, creek, duck, elements, eye, face, fauna, feathers, Ion Corcos, nature, poem, Poetry, quack, seeds, shore, water, wings, writing 2 Comments

Lexicon – Steve Komarnyckyj

 

The river made no excuses for itself,

Having known so many dead

Having known so many living

The moon drew a veil over its face

Yearning, as always, to erase

Its beauty and proffer only the dark.

The world groped for an alphabet.

 

Steve Komarnyckyj’s literary translations and poems have appeared in Index on Censorship, Modern Poetry in Translation and many other journals. He is the holder of two PEN awards and a highly regarded English language poet whose work has been described as articulating “what it means to be human” (Sean Street). He runs Kalyna Language Press with his partner Susie and three domestic cats.

September 17, 2017 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: alphabet, beauty, creative, creativity, dark, death, excuses, face, language, lexicon, life, memory, moon, nature, poem, Poetry, river, Steve Komarnyckyj, veil, water, world, writing, yearning Leave a comment

Door – Krishna Sharma

 

The word of a lover.

It is the word of a hinge

That creaks to the sound

Of its own turning.

Hoarse and coarse.

It loves only to lie.

Lie and smile.

 

But, what is a door?

The secluded path

To the past?

A Jetstream of memories…

For me, it’s the way

That leads to a new beginning.

A new face. A new time.

A new lie? A new smile?

 

 

Krishna Sharma is a teenage poet, whose works have appeared in publications such as ‘Hebe’ and ‘BUSTA RHYME: North West Voices. He was a commended winner in the 2017 Foyle Young Poets of the Year Award. Apart from reading whatever he can get his hands on, Krishna volunteers at his local library, swims, plays tennis and sometimes over-watches his favourite television shows. He hopes to study English at degree level.

June 30, 2017July 13, 2020 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: beginning, creative, creativity, door, face, hinge, humanity, Krishna Sharma, lies, love, memory, pain, past, path, poem, Poetry, relationship, seclusion, smile, sound, time, word, writing 1 Comment

Pumpkin Breath – John Michael Flynn

 

Across my palms, skin has swelled in lumps

crackled like these pumpkins around us.

I try to lift one and imagine the face I’ll carve.

A pebbled orange orb, it drops rotten from its hooked stem.

Its smell is foul, its seeded shards like wet pottery.

Not that one, but there are others to bring home.

 

We walk further down the row. Around us, blue hills rise.

I fall out of rank from the explosive legion

of voices that tends to invade quietude in such settings.

I squeeze my wife’s hand, hear again a word I cannot define.

It’s like an aunt dead and buried,

the one I’ve got a picture of but have never met.

 

What is it about such a word and its elusive associations?

I pause a moment. Neither of us speak.

We watch a small wind lift dust and fumes of fertilized soil.

I turn to her. She smiles shading her eyes from autumnal light.

Ambiguities remain. Doubts will come and go.

Ephemeral simplicities renew us.

 

In 2015, John Michael Flynn was an English Language Fellow with the US State Department at the Far Eastern State University in Khabarovsk, Russia. He is now back home in Virginia, where he teaches English part-time at Piedmont Virginia Community College. His most recent poetry collection, Keepers Meet Questing Eyes, is available from Leaf Garden Press. You can learn more about John and his published work at www.basilrosa.com.

March 4, 2017 by foxglovejournal Categories: Poetry, UncategorizedTags: autumn, creative, doubt, dust, earth, eyes, face, hand, hills, humanity, John Michael Flynn, life, light, poem, Poetry, pumpkins, renewal, skin, soil, US, VA, wind, writing Leave a comment