Category: Poetry (Page 17 of 34)

As Simple as That

30 May 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Dale Ritterbusch

My daughter sends me
a photograph of her cat, her lone cat,
lying on her bed next to two other
cats, her boyfriend’s cats
that have just moved in.

They seem to like being together,
no turmoil over the turf,
no petty jealousies
evinced as they lie there, resting
in a cat’s repose.

I think of times lying next to my wife,
just lying there, no movement,
merely an occasional touch,
a hand trailing lightly
along the arm, the shoulder.

It is as if we were cats;
nothing profound escapes our lips,
nothing of importance
to communicate, to fill the silence.

What is profound is the silence,
the touch, the recognition
that this space is filled,
that words are an unnecessary encumbrance
like an additional blanket
when we are already warmed enough.

Dale Ritterbusch is the author of four collections of poetry. He recently retired as a Professor of English at the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater. His creative work is currently being archived in the Department of Special Collections at La Salle University.

Winter, Snow

28 May 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Luke Nadeau

I am a child of the North,
At the first signs of fall,
It’s like a switch flips,
I’m eager

And by the time those soft, white flakes fall to the ground,
My heart grows tenfold

My skin readily turns pink in that winter chill,
Curious,
That my face should flush the color of spring buds.
When the warmth of longer days is long forgotten,

I recall playing in the snow as a kid,
Making snow angels, snow men,
Doing cartwheels in the snow in my bathing suit,
Then jumping right back into my friend’s hot tub,

But somehow,
In the theater of my mind,
I am not cold

My chest, rather, is warm,
I find solace in these snippets of my past,
Where the biting chill of winter cannot reach me

I wrap myself in the coat of my memories,
Let the scarf of tethered dreams wrap around me,
Keep me safe

With any luck,
I shall never freeze

Luke Nadeau is a student studying Creative Writing at Anoka-Ramsey Community College living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. When they aren’t putting pen to paper, or hands to keyboard, they are trying desperately to find their next big CD.

Common Loon

25 May 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Debbie Theiss

Golden glow of aspen sandwiched between
spruce and pine cast shadows across the lake.
Summer wanes, dark comes early. Even loons
give up summer plumage of black-and-white
checked back, black head and neck iridescent.
Replaced with gray feathers, white breast— ready
for migration. The handsome waterbird
calls to its mate, lets out a haunting wail.

Like the formidable swimmer, I molt
throughout the seasons. Auburn, wavy hair
once thick, now gray streaked with white. Bright blue eyes
weary, plump lips drawn into narrow lines—
life’s winter. I let out a mournful cry
for my mate—but—there will be no answer.

Debbie Theiss is an award-winning poet and Pushcart Prize nominee. She finds inspiration for her poetry in the unfolding art of daily life and nature. Her chapbook Perfectly Imperfect was published in July 2021 by Kelsay Books. She has poems published in I-70 Review, River & South Review, and others.

photography of yellow hibiscus under sunlight — Photo by Khanh Le on Pexels.com

Reverie

23 May 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Peter McNamara

I interrupt a cockroach
attempting a backstroke
through the leavings of dinner stew;
he/she seems certain to survive
the age of man.

A guy comes to my door—all insistent
knuckles—with a petition for
improving peninsular life;
I muse as I turn him away . . .
have I thought to return his pen?

Yesterday’s hibiscus wither like
retirees languishing for a
fountain of youth. Lives crisp
beneath remorseless sun:
shadowless, unvarying days.

Roy Orbison renders “Crying” as
Montserrat Caballé paces the wings.
Does time come, or only go?
I should have taken this up
with the cockroach.

Peter McNamara’s “Eating Up Light” appeared in 2022. His work appears in such journals as Center, Main Street Rag, Pembroke Magazine, The Paris Review and Pleiades. He’s a former Wall Street financial editor and lyricist with Polyhymnia and the New York City Gay Men’s Chorus.

Hope like Sunlight

18 May 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Stacie Eirich

for Sadie

Sunlight rushes in a brand new day, heart lifting
with hope in the knowledge
of a day without clinic appointments, a day to play and create, a day
with no expectations, no decisions, a day to just be.

Slip into the slowness of the hour, sip a latte and leave the phone
tucked away. Let a breath out and listen, listen to the stillness
of the morning, watch the way the breath
rises and falls, contracts and expands.

Her beside me, wrapped in blankets, still asleep, face pressed
against the pillow, a soft whirring of breath reaching me.
I light a small lamp and dress quietly, wanting
to let her rest.

Outside, the day brightens with a promise that meets
my fledgling heart: today will be easier, today will be ours
to make and hold light in.

I stretch my fingers towards the sky, bending left, then right —
fingers open to the window, open to the light.

Behind me my daughter shifts, blankets rustling.
I turn to see her waking, eyes meeting mine
with the sun, morning written on her face
like the light, vivid, beaming—hopeful.

Eyes holding hope
like sunlight, face shining brilliant
as stars. She greets me softly, her voice keeping mine
in tenderness, her heart holding mine
steadily beside her: rising, rising.

Stacie Eirich is a mother of two, poet & singer. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Cantos Literary Journal, The Healing Muse & Remington Review, among others. She is currently living in Memphis, TN, caring for her daughter through cancer treatments at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. www.stacieeirich.com

Raindrops

16 May 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Diane Webster

From the sculptured
metal of the sunflower head
beads of rain
gather like ripe seeds
dropping to the earth
for next spring’s sprout.

Diane Webster‘s goal is to remain open to poetry ideas in everyday life, nature or an overheard phrase. Diane enjoys the challenge of transforming images into words to fit her poems. Her work has appeared in El Portal, North Dakota Quarterly, New English Review and other literary magazines.

Awakening

13 May 2023 / Editor

Poetry by N.T. Chambers

It was a late
Spring morning
the sun barely reddening
a drowsy sky –
our dog restlessly
asleep in his corner –
a quiet universe
within the room
undisturbed by events
yet to be
or the Sunday
one-half hour away.

You were
a sepia photograph
in a semi-darkened space–––
contorted on the sheets
with pillow-combed hair
gently caressing one cheek –
a singular bead of sweat
drifting silently
down your neck
as you turned over –
offering a dream-laden smile
to no one in particular.

I found myself wanting
to draw you closer
to inhale your night muskiness,
feel your breath on my chest,
but chose to honor your slumber –
there was coffee to make,
a paper to be retrieved,
pancakes to be cooked
and a lifetime to be shared

N.T. Chambers writes about the emotions, events, and experiences intrinsic to the human condition. Numerous works have been published in several journals and magazines, among them The Banyan Review, Inlandia, The Orchard Poetry Journal, The Decadent Review, New Note Poetry, Quibble Magazine, and Share Literary Journal.

Late Love

11 May 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Sharon Scholl

We meet in the dark kitchen
with separate hungers,
different aching joints,
each with reasons to be sleepless.

I switch on the stove light,
wince at sudden brightness.
You click off your flashlight,
stand mute, indecisive.

What will digest at this hour?
Something quick and harmless
that may invite sleep – at least
fill dull time until it comes.

Quietly we munch and sip, shuffle
by habit around each other.
It’s the company that satisfies.

Sharon Scholl is a retired college professor (humanities) who convenes a poetry critique group and maintains a website of original music compositions (freeprintmusic.com) for small churches. She is the patron for poetry and music composition contests for young creators. Her poetry chapbooks are available via Amazon Books.

On Observing My Daughter At Breakfast

7 May 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Clarence Allan Ebert

My daughter wears a hand-me-down shirt
tie-dyed with the stars, three sizes too big.
Her clothes arrange themselves
in psychedelic constellations.
Her face is a yellow rose through the light
of honey dollops dropping in milk.
She has never tripped and has no band-aids.
She makes no fuss and sleeps with a night light
She is barely aware I love her so much,
oblivious to her own impermanence.

Clarence Allan Ebert celebrated his 70th birthday recently and pledged to maintain some Baby Boomer relevance in the world through the fine craft of poetry. Read his poem from The Bluebird Word‘s January 2023 issue.

boats clouds dawn dusk — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

What They Can’t Take Away

4 May 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Raymond Berthelot

The sailboats at anchor
are pulled in one direction
by the tide between the keys

Remember that woman
crazy or drunk, walking by the sanitarium
she too, refused assistance

What is it about moonlight and tropical flowers?
for a while at least
peace seems possible

But back to the sea
and the sun distantly setting, swollen
at a place we’ll never be

Raymond Berthelot is the Historic Sites District Manager for the Louisiana Office of State Parks. His work has appeared in publications such as Progenitor, Mantis, Peregrine Journal, Apricity Magazine, The Elevation Review, the Carolina Quarterly and DASH Literary Journal. A chapbook, The Middle Ages, is available with Finishing Line Press.