Category: Poetry (Page 29 of 41)

A Birthday Meteor

19 January 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Jeff Burt

When the last bird-wing rose
and the bottom of the open window
became a bed for a creek of cold air
to enter the room, I saw a streak
of acetylene on the western edge of darkness
and found between my sixteenth-century Shakespeare
and my twenty-first century Einstein
a tussle between the optimistic flush of good omen
and scientific swagger that pronounces
a romantic stone a rock,
and I looked over your shoulder,
felt both lucky and fated to be with you,
and eyes lifted, wandered in the early stars
brushing against galactic wonder.

Jeff Burt lives in Santa Cruz County, California, with his wife, alternating between dreams of fire evacuation and dreams of floods. He has contributed to Gold Man Review, Rabid Oak, Williwaw Journal, and others. Read earlier work from The Bluebird Word’s March 2022 Issue.

pink petaled flower — Photo by javier gonzalez on Pexels.com

Garden Reading

15 January 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Peter A. Witt

There was a time when nannies read
stories to children in the garden
on a spring day, when butterflies flitted
flower to flower, joined by humming
birds, the occasional bee.

She would read of princes and kings,
even fairies and dragons,
children’s eyes growing wide
with amazement and excitement.

Sometimes she’d stop, direct
her gaze to an old dog sleeping
in the shade, watching his belly
expand and fall, hoping he’d make it
through the heated summer until fall.

If she paused too long the children
would say, read us more, please,
read us some more, and she’d
turn the page and read more
of whatever adventure
her gaze had interrupted.

When the sun shifted and it became
too warm to continue, she’d bring
her charges inside where the cook
had prepared jelly sandwiches and
chocolate chip cookies for the children,
accompanied by a cold glass
of farm fresh milk.

As the children’s eyes grew weary,
nanny would settle them down
for a nap, then return to a shaded
place in the garden and read
her own book, accompanied
by the sleeping old dog.

Peter A. Witt is a poet, family history writer, active birder and photographer. Peter retired in 2015 from a 43 year university teaching and research career. He lives with his wife and Keeshond in Texas.

Later

14 January 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Robert Nisbet

By now he was washing his feet
with difficulty, ached a lot
most mornings, but always he walked,
first with the dog, then, when she’d gone,
striding alone round his domain.

It was a tour of inspection, decades
of shift and character and happening,
remembered and re-created.
Most treasured of all, the Common,
its cricket pitches and its trees.

His initials and Moira’s were carved,
fading, blurred but readable still,
in the mighty oak beside the seconds’ pitch.
His sons, the crowds, the matches,
once, the breathless pleasure
of his granddaughter’s single game.

Walking back, through unexceptional streets,
he would trawl his shoal of recollections,
alliances and families, time’s dole,
how Moira married the aircraftsman,
but that didn’t in the end gainsay
the good of all that happened otherwise.

Robert Nisbet is a Welsh poet, a now-retired English teacher and college lecturer, who wrote short stories for forty years (with seven collections) and has now turned to poetry, being published widely in both Britain and the USA, where he is a four-time Pushcart Prize nominee.

Snow

8 January 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Charlene Lyon

Snow is gravity pulling crystals
which knit into a blanket
tucked under
the sleeping trees.

A muffled, fluffy quiet.
Interrupted by scrunch scrunch boots
and the woodpecker knocking
on doors for brunch.

Charlene Lyon is a writer and poet from Cleveland, Ohio. Her work has appeared in Cleveland Magazine, Northern Ohio Live, Sun Newspapers and elsewhere. Her poetry will be featured in June as part of Standing Rock Cultural Arts’ 30th anniversary calendar in Kent, Ohio. She enjoys a good espresso and walking under trees with her beloved husband.

Hide and Seek with Robin

6 January 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Lilyth Coglan

He came to visit me in September as I pulled out the weeds
I was late to gardening this season
I felt him tutting at me under his red breast
Then he left for a while
Till November arrived
I guarded the cat away from him
Telling her “He is my Robin now stay away”
He bobs his head in and out the tree
Merrily bouncing along the fence
Always chirpy, always happy
I wondered why
Then I realise,
Winter is soon to arrive.

Lilyth Coglan is a poet and a writer from Hull in the UK. Locally she has been on the radio and news sharing poetry and spoken word, and was part of a female arts festival called She Festival in lock down 2020. She writes about mental health, life, love and politics.

Christmas Tree Thrown Away

1 January 2023 / Editor

Special Selection for the 2022/2023 Winter Holiday Issue

Poetry by Mona Mehas

Still, it lies there in the snow
All shimmer and crystal shining,
Icicles dangling all a-glow,
And with each branch, entwining.

The balls that were hung so carefully
Are now scattered upon the ground
And fallen there, disdainfully
Are candy canes with stripes around.

The lights that twinkled ever so bright
To all the world for seeing
No longer light up Winter’s nights,
Nor the souls of human beings.

The garland, and popcorn strings, and bows,
Along with children’s delight –
They’ve all tumbled to Angels’ snows,
Brilliant colors absorbed in white.

And last but not least, the star, so great,
Has been tossed aside, no doubt,
For it’s broken – count them – in pieces of eight,
As the New Year, it’s opened and let Christmas out.

Mona Mehas (she/her) writes about growing up poor, accumulating grief, and climate change. A retired teacher in Indiana, she’s at her laptop most days. She’s published in Words & Whispers, Grim and Gilded, and others. In 2020, she watched every Star Trek show and movie in chronological order. Find her on Twitter @Patienc77732097.

Photo by Valentina Dominguez on Unsplash

Children’s Cookies

23 December 2022 / Editor

Special Selection for the 2022/2023 Winter Holiday Issue

Poetry by Will Neuenfeldt

Baked snowflakes
naked on their trays
await little cousins
armed with butter knives,
ready to blanket the batch
with freshly dyed ice.
The first trays are pristine
with green Tannenbaum’s
adorn with ribbon and stars
while Frosty holds a pipe
in his parabolic smile.
Only then they delve into
Betty Crocker’s nightmare
as frosting blends brown,
sprinkles flurry onto linoleum,
and the older boy is scolded for
the phallus he penned
onto Frosty’s best friend.
Like the sheets of snow
covering the Holiday landscape
they are unique but
thankfully edible and sweet.

Will Neuenfeldt studied English at Gustavus Adolphus College and his poems are published in Capsule Stories, Open, and Red Flag Poetry. He lives in Cottage Grove, MN, home of the dude who played Steven Stifler in those American Pie movies and a house Teddy Roosevelt slept in.

The Willow in Winter

21 December 2022 / Editor

Special Selection for the 2022/2023 Winter Holiday Issue

Poetry by Jennifer L. Gauthier

In the rain the sleet the snow
the willow bends low
and deep
bowing
like a monk in prayer.

She bends but does not
break.

Her strength is in her
supple
limbs stretching.

Jennifer L. Gauthier is a professor of media and culture at Randolph College in Southwestern Virginia. She has poems published in Tiny Seed Literary Journal, South 85, Gyroscope Review, Nightingale & Sparrow, The Bookends Review, little somethings press, HerWords Magazine and Tofu Ink Arts Press.

clear glass sphere — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Separation Anxiety

19 December 2022 / Editor

Special Selection for the 2022/2023 Winter Holiday Issue

Poetry by John Grey

Winter brings me deep snow.
You get the same old kudzu.
If only my frozen air
could fly south
to your steamy fishing shack,
if parka and gloves
knew their way around a line and hook.

Deer tremble through the flakes,
flirt with the ephemeral.
An alligator pokes a head
through brown swamp surface.
Its message is clear.

We live in different worlds
and there’s no shaking the fact.
The weather has cut me off completely.
You feel a little night time chill
but can’t decide if it’s the breeze
or your fourth beer
that’s behind it all.

If only mangrove and coral snake
could float up from the south,
surprise me at my door,
instead of these insolent drifts.

We haven’t just lost touch.
Our winters are different seasons.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review and Red Weather. Latest books “Covert” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. See upcoming work in Washington Square Review and Open Ceilings.

acorn advent blur bright — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Christmastide

16 December 2022 / Editor

Special Selection for the 2022/2023 Winter Holiday Issue

Poetry by Ralph La Rosa

(with apologies to Emily Dickinson)

O my dear Prodigious Elf
That merry month is here.
I madly hope You’ll gift myself
With what I’d like—this Year—

A brand-new feeder for my birds
The Phoebes and the Hummers—
Happy wingèd—little—Bards
In Choirs every Summer.

On Wizards of the World’s best Words
Bestow the Wit to Weave—
Worthy webs from their Word-Hoards
That Measure Man’s beliefs.

And lastly—let One—realize
How Chill a life can be
Without those sometimes—sunny—Smiles
That rarely shine on me.

Ralph La Rosa’s poetry appears widely on the Internet, in print journals and anthologies, and in the chapbook Sonnet Stanzas and full-length collections Ghost Trees and My Miscellaneous Muse.

Category: Poetry (Page 29 of 41)

A Birthday Meteor

Garden Reading

Later

Snow

Hide and Seek with Robin

Christmas Tree Thrown Away

Children’s Cookies

The Willow in Winter

Separation Anxiety

Christmastide

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