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.
Kevin Heaton
JP Reese
Emily Severance
Kevin Heaton
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.
Wind Chimes
a baby’s breath
cannot purify
winds of compromise,
nor indemnify
wantonness,
but applied to chimes
in innocence;
may pierce the pall
of sorrow, and bestow
welcome solace
upon the sound
of tears.
Bio:
Kevin Heaton writes in South Carolina. His work has appeared in: Foliate Oak, Pirene's Fountain, Nibble, Elimae, The Recusant, and many others.
He is listed as a notable Kansas Poet at KansasPoets.com.
http://kevinheatonpoetry.webstarts.com/publications.html
(author retains copyright)
.
Wind Chimes
a baby’s breath
cannot purify
winds of compromise,
nor indemnify
wantonness,
but applied to chimes
in innocence;
may pierce the pall
of sorrow, and bestow
welcome solace
upon the sound
of tears.
Bio:
Kevin Heaton writes in South Carolina. His work has appeared in: Foliate Oak, Pirene's Fountain, Nibble, Elimae, The Recusant, and many others.
He is listed as a notable Kansas Poet at KansasPoets.com.
http://kevinheatonpoetry.webstarts.com/publications.html
(author retains copyright)
Return
JP Reese
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.
For The Women
Once more, rocks wait in stadiums of dust.
Hands press to wounded heads or claw the dust.
The people silence singing, shutter shops.
Razors all stilled, beards draw the Afghan dust;
Red poppies are destroyed and laughter ends.
The fields lie fallow, raw, returned to dust.
Bearded Pashtuns eye every shadowed street,
Salvage the holy law from boot-stomped dust.
Young soldiers marched away, taking their bombs.
The female teachers' graves merge straw with dust.
Dark rivers freeze below the Khyber Pass.
Come summer, flesh will thaw to mix with dust
Near Peshawar, a sister has transgressed.
Her purple thumb, whipsawn, collects the dust.
An unveiled face once more courts suicide.
And girls, forbidden books, withdraw to dust.
The women all retreat behind burkas.
Each temptress hidden from flawed men of dust.
A man exits a cave above the plains.
His followers, in awe, kneel in the dust.
Bio:
JP Reese has work published or forthcoming in Connotation Press, The Smoking Poet, Silkworms Ink, The Pinch, Forces, Eclectic Flash, Used Furniture Review, Blue Fifth Review, and Gloom Cupboard. Two of Reese's poems are in the current issue of Corium Magazine. Reese is a poetry editor for this -- a literary webzine, and she also teaches English at a small college in Texas.
(author retains copyright)
.
For The Women
Once more, rocks wait in stadiums of dust.
Hands press to wounded heads or claw the dust.
The people silence singing, shutter shops.
Razors all stilled, beards draw the Afghan dust;
Red poppies are destroyed and laughter ends.
The fields lie fallow, raw, returned to dust.
Bearded Pashtuns eye every shadowed street,
Salvage the holy law from boot-stomped dust.
Young soldiers marched away, taking their bombs.
The female teachers' graves merge straw with dust.
Dark rivers freeze below the Khyber Pass.
Come summer, flesh will thaw to mix with dust
Near Peshawar, a sister has transgressed.
Her purple thumb, whipsawn, collects the dust.
An unveiled face once more courts suicide.
And girls, forbidden books, withdraw to dust.
The women all retreat behind burkas.
Each temptress hidden from flawed men of dust.
A man exits a cave above the plains.
His followers, in awe, kneel in the dust.
Bio:
JP Reese has work published or forthcoming in Connotation Press, The Smoking Poet, Silkworms Ink, The Pinch, Forces, Eclectic Flash, Used Furniture Review, Blue Fifth Review, and Gloom Cupboard. Two of Reese's poems are in the current issue of Corium Magazine. Reese is a poetry editor for this -- a literary webzine, and she also teaches English at a small college in Texas.
(author retains copyright)
Return
Emily Severance
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.
Body Bags
Do body bags come in different sizes?
Do the petite get to show off
Their fine figures during the return
Flight? Are they plastic or canvas or burlap or
Silk? Are there patches for the outside
Announcing how many bullets, shrapnel,
Or body pieces within? Does their coloration vary
Or is it always the dead green of worn dollar bills?
What sort of quality control is insured before a body bag
Is sent from the factory? Who trains
The body bag makers and the body bag inspectors?
Who creates the pattern? A dedicated seamstress
The likes of Betsy Ross? Sew onward fair patriot.
How do they keep account of which body’s in which bag?
Are dog tags stapled on? Names written in indelible ink?
Do they use numbers corresponding to names on sheets
a corporal pages through as he greets the hero’s family?
Are the bags reusable? Are they tucked in the bottom of caskets,
Burned with autumn leaves, stored next to wedding gowns?
How many body bags does it take
To screw in a light bulb?
How many to maintain
A standard of life?
Bio:
Emily Severance teaches elementary special education in New Mexico.
She has a BA from The University of Michigan (where she won the
freshman poetry prize and a Hopwood prize for poetry) and an MFA in
studio art from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago.
(author retains copyright)
.
Body Bags
Do body bags come in different sizes?
Do the petite get to show off
Their fine figures during the return
Flight? Are they plastic or canvas or burlap or
Silk? Are there patches for the outside
Announcing how many bullets, shrapnel,
Or body pieces within? Does their coloration vary
Or is it always the dead green of worn dollar bills?
What sort of quality control is insured before a body bag
Is sent from the factory? Who trains
The body bag makers and the body bag inspectors?
Who creates the pattern? A dedicated seamstress
The likes of Betsy Ross? Sew onward fair patriot.
How do they keep account of which body’s in which bag?
Are dog tags stapled on? Names written in indelible ink?
Do they use numbers corresponding to names on sheets
a corporal pages through as he greets the hero’s family?
Are the bags reusable? Are they tucked in the bottom of caskets,
Burned with autumn leaves, stored next to wedding gowns?
How many body bags does it take
To screw in a light bulb?
How many to maintain
A standard of life?
Bio:
Emily Severance teaches elementary special education in New Mexico.
She has a BA from The University of Michigan (where she won the
freshman poetry prize and a Hopwood prize for poetry) and an MFA in
studio art from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago.
(author retains copyright)
Return
Stephen Jarrell Williams
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.
A Rebel Call
The new year
seems to have
a big head
on the horizon.
I hope
it's
smiling
with a face of change.
But
just in case
sharpen your swords.
Bio:
Stephen Jarrell Williams has been called "The Poet of Doom," "A Voice in the Wilderness," and "A Minstrel for Love." He was born in Fort Belvoir, Virginia. His parents are native Texans. He has lived most of his life in California.
(author retains copyright)
.
A Rebel Call
The new year
seems to have
a big head
on the horizon.
I hope
it's
smiling
with a face of change.
But
just in case
sharpen your swords.
Bio:
Stephen Jarrell Williams has been called "The Poet of Doom," "A Voice in the Wilderness," and "A Minstrel for Love." He was born in Fort Belvoir, Virginia. His parents are native Texans. He has lived most of his life in California.
(author retains copyright)
Return
Sandra Noel
.
.
Blessed
It’s 3:00 a.m.
as you step outside for one more cigarette
in a cold corner of the night
before heading home.
It’s raining again in Seattle
so you let the wet pavement put it out
wondering how you got here
playing Irish reels instead of Mozart
and if your violin minds playing fiddle
but no she doesn’t, for she is the truest love
you’ve ever known or let yourself know
in forty years of playing on concert stages and in bars
and the living rooms and kitchens of lovers and friends.
The money isn’t much these days
Tonight, only enough for breakfast, gas and rehairing a bow
shredded to bits playing for a rowdy weekend crowd
and you are SO tired –
too tired to feel the rain on your back
but not the pain of arthritis
that has crept into your body like a curse.
And then you see him –
arranging cardboard boxes into a temporary shelter
his “VETERAN, NEED FOOD” sign
part of the construction project.
His only need now is staying dry
and avoiding confrontations
with a city cop or some drunk sadistic kid.
He looks up as you approach in the wet dim light
his apprehension draining away
when he sees the friendly fiddle case
and your eyes meet his a moment
as you reach into your pocket
and hand him twenty dollars of your night.
He blesses you, “Bless you! Thank you!”
You tip your hat and smile
then head to your car thinking
the sun is coming up soon
and you have a bed with sheets
a porch to sit and sip good coffee later
with the robins and watch the day unfold
feeling rich – feeling blessed.
Bio:
My day (and sometimes night) job is as a freelance illustrator/designer developing interpretive text and illustrations for environmental education exhibits. My passion is working with Alliance for Tompotika, www.tompotika.com an environmental organization involved in rainforest/community conservation work. I provide art and design for the group and have had the opportunity to teach art and ecology workshops for youth in SE Asia. My other passion is poetry– reading and writing it. Heart of Darkness, a narrative poem was published in In the Mist, Imagining Babylon in Paradigm and Imagine, Night visitor and Albatross in Barnwood International Poetry Magazine.
(author retains copyright)
.
Blessed
It’s 3:00 a.m.
as you step outside for one more cigarette
in a cold corner of the night
before heading home.
It’s raining again in Seattle
so you let the wet pavement put it out
wondering how you got here
playing Irish reels instead of Mozart
and if your violin minds playing fiddle
but no she doesn’t, for she is the truest love
you’ve ever known or let yourself know
in forty years of playing on concert stages and in bars
and the living rooms and kitchens of lovers and friends.
The money isn’t much these days
Tonight, only enough for breakfast, gas and rehairing a bow
shredded to bits playing for a rowdy weekend crowd
and you are SO tired –
too tired to feel the rain on your back
but not the pain of arthritis
that has crept into your body like a curse.
And then you see him –
arranging cardboard boxes into a temporary shelter
his “VETERAN, NEED FOOD” sign
part of the construction project.
His only need now is staying dry
and avoiding confrontations
with a city cop or some drunk sadistic kid.
He looks up as you approach in the wet dim light
his apprehension draining away
when he sees the friendly fiddle case
and your eyes meet his a moment
as you reach into your pocket
and hand him twenty dollars of your night.
He blesses you, “Bless you! Thank you!”
You tip your hat and smile
then head to your car thinking
the sun is coming up soon
and you have a bed with sheets
a porch to sit and sip good coffee later
with the robins and watch the day unfold
feeling rich – feeling blessed.
Bio:
My day (and sometimes night) job is as a freelance illustrator/designer developing interpretive text and illustrations for environmental education exhibits. My passion is working with Alliance for Tompotika, www.tompotika.com an environmental organization involved in rainforest/community conservation work. I provide art and design for the group and have had the opportunity to teach art and ecology workshops for youth in SE Asia. My other passion is poetry– reading and writing it. Heart of Darkness, a narrative poem was published in In the Mist, Imagining Babylon in Paradigm and Imagine, Night visitor and Albatross in Barnwood International Poetry Magazine.
(author retains copyright)
Return
Clinton Van Inman
.
.
Just Like Us
From one to six we will let you play with blocks and sticks
then you will be ours. We will teach you to be our kind of Mensch
as you color everything chain link grey. We will erase all magic
inside of you. With picture ID and major credit and number 2 pencil
you will be like us pushing and shoving all the way up to barely alive.
Bio:
Clinton Van Inman is 65, and a high school teacher in Hillsborough County.
(author retains copyright)
.
Just Like Us
From one to six we will let you play with blocks and sticks
then you will be ours. We will teach you to be our kind of Mensch
as you color everything chain link grey. We will erase all magic
inside of you. With picture ID and major credit and number 2 pencil
you will be like us pushing and shoving all the way up to barely alive.
Bio:
Clinton Van Inman is 65, and a high school teacher in Hillsborough County.
(author retains copyright)
Return
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