Eva – Spangle McQueen

 

“Hope” is the thing with feathers – Emily Dickinson

 

If I left you a feather

preserved

in Burmese amber

would you treasure

 

this coelurosaur’s gift

wrapped in semi-

translucent resin?

Would you release

 

the ferrous

traces of my blood –

hopeful of

cloning?

 

Or would you reject

this humble

hollow-tailed thing –

ignore me – in favour of

an angel’s token?

 

 

20171019_233122-1Spangle McQueen is a happy grandma and hopeful poet living in Sheffield.

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How I love – Joe Albanese

 

From your hope is how I hear you

Through your unabashed scars is how I feel you

 

Between each thought I always see you

And it’s in your flowing that I know you

 

The sacred and magic are born from you

For simple being, the world should thank you

 

In crowded streets I may have lost you

But with heart-star lantern, I’ll search for you

 

Although ghosts may sometimes haunt you

It’s because who wouldn’t live beside you?

 

From your laughter I cannot save you

But in tears I’d never have you

 

If it’s in the sunlight that I want you

Then it’s in its shadows I am with you

 

If all our lives I never reach you

Then let these words be how I love you.

 

 

JoeAlbanese_photoJoe Albanese is a writer from New Jersey. His work can be found in publications across the U.S. and in ten other countries. Joe’s novel, Caina (Mockingbird Lane Press), and his novella, Smash and Grab (Books to Go Now), were both published in 2018.

Childlessness – Antony Owen

 

You and I have perfected being invisible,

to be the disappearing dot as people move on

we will always be children growing grey like shovelled snow.

~

You and I have swallowed bruises from joy at others’ children,

made chemical love with natural hopes to conceive

mourned in revelations of blue stripe tombs.

~

We wanted a baby so bad I held you like one in our Ikea tomb.

At seven PM on the dot we mixed potions dead of magic

I was so close to your skin and noticed you had gone.

~

You and I have heard it all like how one day it will happen for us

like Sheila and Tom down the road who sold a house for seed,

one night I stood naked in the firelight and doused the flames.

~

You alone knew that our spines are like hand rails on tube trains,

everyone is leaving and there is only you and I in the dark eye

the pin-prick daylight will not conceive us and we no longer weep.

~

I alone knew that my bloodline stops with me, thank god it stops

but remember the cherry tree that blossomed then died

they cut it down and the roots fought hard to keep it.

~

I alone know that you and I are sick and fucking tired of polite sadness,

to avoid the conversations that make others feel awkward because we are,

to realise that some family trees bear fruit so sweet it makes the wind smell bitter.

~

You alone know that the sharps box is Pandora’s box letting us out,

the needles mock us like talons of a crow on Jacobite earth

next week is our check-up but we are nether here or there.

~

I alone know as a man who sees our children writhing in the dreamcatcher

that there is a beach with a gate for us where the sea-smoke cools the sun,

I alone know that the manger of loving you is more than tangible life.

 

 

biopic 3Antony Owen was raised in the industrial heartland of Coventry which is a notable inspiration of his work. Owen is also a critically acclaimed writer on war poems with work translated in Japanese, Mandarin and Dutch. His fifth collection of poetry, The Nagasaki Elder, (V.Press) was published in September 2017 and is already its 2nd print run. The Nagasaki Elder was inspired by direct testimonies of atomic bomb survivors taken in Hiroshima plus evacuees displaced from conflict. Owen’s work has been commissioned by BBC and National Poetry Day and is regularly taught in Hiroshima at monthly poetry workshops by Professor Klein. He was chosen by CND UK as one their first national peace education patrons alongside AL Kennedy. Owen was also a recipient Coventry’s 2016 Peace & Reconciliation Award.

Missing You – Lisa Reily

 

Raspberry and mango bougainvilleas, the tang of guava,

an orange and silver carp on a Balinese path, breathing

its last breath of hope, for someone to save it.

 

Pomegranate seeds popped into your mouth

dribble down your cheek to stain your new white pants;

your snow-teeth bite into watermelon, crumbling

from its watery pink into water itself.

 

My love for you is a crisp yellow pineapple, pale seaweed

dabbled in sunlight, the musky pink of my fingernails;

blue-grey dolphins, white baby seal love, the emerald sun

and the cool green sky; a tortoise underwater, an ache of forever,

 

a smiling purple dog; a yearning unresolved.

 

 

Photo - Lisa ReilyLisa Reily is a former literacy consultant, dance director and teacher from Australia. She is now a budget traveller with two bags, one laptop and no particular home. You can find out more about Lisa at lisareily.wordpress.com.

Child Unconceived – Allison Grayhurst

 
Tomorrow may bring you nearer
            to me, but then it may cause
                        grief that no instinct nor love could
                                    rectify.
If I cannot form the dustgrain of your life
            in my womb, cannot carry
                        your limbs within my belly proud
                                    and drench my veins
with our combined blood –
(you and I merged for a time, guiltless,
            expressing the earthy essence of God
                        with each our individual heartbeats),
                                    then be damned my entrails
and this longing
                        that drives my impatient summer.
 
            When I see your face for the first time,
                        and your father and I behold your
                                    living smile, be sure
there will be a depth of welcome
            that no hardship could turn cold
                        nor ever diminish.

 

allison-grayhurst-profile-picture-2016Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Three times nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015, she has over 950 poems published in over 400 international journals. She has twelve published books of poetry, seven collections, nine chapbooks, and a chapbook pending publication. She lives in Toronto with her family. She is a vegan. She also sculpts, working with clay. Learn more at www.allisongrayhurst.com.
 

Two poems of hope – Danny P. Barbare

 

Good Days

The
pavement
looks
up

it
sees
the
light

hope
is
the
streets
and
rain
that
shine.

 

The Better of a Rainy Day

Thinking
of
the
light

the
glow
of
a
home

hope
is
the
lamp
shade
beside
the
road.

 

Danny P. Barbare resides in the Upstate of the Carolinas. He has been published in Birmingham Arts Journal and Stone Coast Review. He lives with his wife and family and small dog Miley.

win_20150109_224351

solstice song – Fritz Eifrig

 

after braiding quicksilver

across our steaming skins,

whispers stilled for sleeping,

eyes closed quiet, I turn to look at you,

like I always do.

your form fixed, silent waves of wood

polished gleaming by the moonlight,

one arm sloped to shield from stars,

modesty made foolish by the heat tonight.

and I dream through open eyes

of lives beginning without endings,

like I always do.

 

fe-picFritz Eifrig has been writing poems on and off for several decades. He has been published in Poetry Quarterly, and the Hiram Poetry Review. He lives and works in Chicago.

An honest request – Kieran Rundle

 

Do not tell me of love.

Tell me instead of passion;

of secrets, of hope.

 

Tell me the stories that the willow branches

whisper to one another in crossing

as they wrinkle the still pond,

and disrupt the merriment

of the minnows.

 

Speak to me in the tongues of stones,

of sand grains, side by side,

thrust together by the bellows of the ocean,

and the grating crinkle

of being tossed once more into the fray.

 

Show me the glowworms that hide

behind the moss curtains of your eyelids.

Let them expand to

illuminate your freckles,

your smile.

 

We are not two people thrust together.

We are not two lovers sharing our bed of thorns.

We have sewn our clothes from threads of memories

and garnished them with beads of teeth

lost by young mouths

as they grew old enough to forget.

 

We are two ecosystems, conjoined.

We are intertwined closer than the roots of a carrot,

twisting into themselves.

We are seeds, yet to bloom, but cracking

the cases of ourselves.

 

Bring me yourself, so that I may do the same.

Together we will explore the forbidden craters

of this world

and only the truth

will leave our tongues.

 

kr2016Kieran Rundle, a high school student, is the owner and editor-in-chief for Sincerely Magazine LLC. She is on the staff for Miracle Magazine, and has worked for three years as an upper editor on Albemarle High School’s Literary Magazine. She is an award winning artist, poet, prose writer, and playwright. Her work can be found in a plethora of places including Charlottesville Area Transit Bu
sses, The UVA Special Collections Library, Quail Bell Online Magazine, and the Crossroads III Anthology.  She is also an avid theatre kid, cat lover, stargazer, cookie eater, and chocolate addict. Find her at redbubble.com/people/owlgirl.