Images and Fragrances – James G. Piatt

 

It was near the morning hour, when visions

arose in my mind: I saw a brick sidewalk

leading me to an old house where precious

memories transported me inside the house

and I smelled the sweet fragrances of

peaches and honey wafting into the air.

 

 

James is the author of four collections of poetry, Solace Between the Lines (2019), Light (2016), Ancient Rhythms (2014), and The Silent Pond (2012). He has had over 1,440 poems (four of which were nominated for Pushcart and Best of Web Awards), five novels, eight essays, and thirty-five short stories published. He earned his BS and MA from California State Polytechnic University, and his doctorate from BYU.

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May 4, 2020May 4, 2020 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: air, creative, creativity, elements, food, fragrance, honey, hour, house, James G. Piatt, memories, mind, moment, morning, nature, peaches, poem, Poetry, scent, senses, sweet, visions, writing Leave a comment

Chocolate – Robert Beveridge

 

If I could take a drop

of honey from the tongue of Satan,

 

or dip my silver chalice

in an Erewhon river of chocolate,

 

I would feed you, my lips to yours.

 

Instead I have filled my mouth

with words, my cup

with water from a mudpuddle

 

still I ask you

take your nourishment

from me

 

 

Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Savant-Garde, Other People’s Flowers, and The Indiana Horror Review, among others.

July 19, 2018July 19, 2018 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: chalice, chocolate, creative, creativity, cup, drop, feed, food, honey, lips, mouth, nourishment, OH, poem, Poetry, river, Robert Beveridge, silver, sweet, US, water, words, writing Leave a comment

An Almost Empty City – Samuel W. James

 

The sea is tired and the sky above seems runny

while on the shore of the sea

humans swarm like bees;

you’d think the slow waves were made of honey.

 

Inland, mile by mile, the leaves seem to glow

with the lime leaves’ piercing greens

which is only the sun’s gleam,

and neither the trees nor the sun even know.

 

The bees themselves patrol the streets

and they are the only ones.

Even down to the concrete, the world is sweet;

down to the marrow of its bones.

Its secretive souls need not be discreet

when the humans have all either hidden or flown.

 

 

 

Samuel W. James’ poems can also be found in Allegro, The Eyewear Review, The Fortnightly Review, Dissident Voice, The Literary Hatchet, Amsterdam Quarterly, London Grip, Clockwise Cat, Peeking Cat, Sentinel Quarterly, Scarlet Leaf Review, Door is a Jar, The Beautiful Space, Elsewhere Journal and Ink, Sweat and Tears.

July 16, 2018July 16, 2018 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: bees, bones, city, concrete, creative, creativity, elements, humans, marrow, nature, patrol, poem, Poetry, Samuel W. James, sea, sky, souls, streets, sun, swarm, sweet, trees, world Leave a comment