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Tag: beauty (Page 2 of 2)

Lines

Poetry by Christine Andersen

I don’t want to be the person
who colors outside the lines.

I want to be the one who lifts them from the page

scallops and twists and folds

until there is a butterfly
perched on my outstretched palm.

Be the one who blows the parting kiss.


Christine Andersen is a retired dyslexia specialist who hikes daily through the CT woods with her hounds. The changing New England seasons inspire her poems. Publications include Comstock, Octillo, American Writers and Awakenings Reviews, Glimpse, Dash, Months to Years and upcoming in Glassworks and Evening Street Press.

3 haiku

Poetry by Joyce Miller

The last leaves fall
from the weeping cherry—
          the farmer sees the city.

 

Blade of green
sharp with spring,
          in winter snow.

 

A firefly alights a light
of bioluminescence on
          a moonless night in June.


Joyce Miller served as a senior editorial assistant for The Cincinnati Review and her work has been published in The RavensPerch, Crack the SpineServing House Journalaaduna, and Venture; Ohio Voices. She currently teaches Italian in the Romance and Arabic Languages and Literatures Department at the University of Cincinnati.

i am learning to be still

Poetry by Stacie Eirich

i am learning to be still,
to pay attention to each breath, its slow rise and fall,
to feel the soft spring breeze on my skin, its gentle rush and play,
to listen to the song sparrows in the air, cooing and calling
in the bright yellow sunshine of morn.

i am learning to be still,
to watch the dance of the butterflies, their colorful frenzy and flight,
to admire the grace of the bald eagle, silent and watchful from his perch,
to gaze upon the splendor of the mountains, their peaks rising against a vast expanse
in the warm orange glow of afternoon.

i am learning to be still,
to savor the taste of a tender strawberry, sweet and tart,
to let the rain wash over me in ripples, cool and refreshing,
to hear the harmonies of the juncos and thrushes, repeating and resonant
in the waning lavender light of evening.

i am learning to be still,
to seek a path of peace and wonder, intention and reflection,
to find the calm within each moment, blithe and smooth,
to experience the echo of the Earth’s heart, beating and thriving
in the endless blue waves of time.


Stacie Eirich is a writer, singer & library associate. A former English Instructor, she holds a Masters in English Studies from Illinois State University. Her work has appeared in Ariel Chart International Literary Journal, Auroras & Blossoms Anthologies, Scarlet Leaf Review & Potato Soup Journal. She lives near New Orleans with three cats, two kids and one fish (www.stacieeirich.com).

Not Too Often

Poetry by Marianne Brems

It’s an ordinary day,
nothing to celebrate.
She puts on
just the right hat,
at just the right angle,
not for warmth
or to protect from sun,
one to blend perfectly
with the afternoon light
in a room
where heads might turn,
not too quickly,
not all at once.
No scarf over her shoulder,
no pearls around her neck,
just a hat,
not too new,
not too old,
a style seen occasionally,
but not too often.


Marianne Brems’ two poetry chapbooks are Sliver of Change (Finishing Line Press, 2020) and Unsung Offerings (Finishing Line Press, 2021). Her poems have also appeared in literary journals including Nightingale & Sparrow, The Sunlight Press, The Lake, and Green Ink Poetry. She lives and cycles in Northern California. Website: www.mariannebrems.com.

Succulent

by Heather Bartos

Jade plants will never win beauty contests.
Snub-nosed, squat, solid-thighed,
Pudgy limbs and squinty little blossoms.
But deep roots and thick flesh
Gather what guarantees survival,
What grants longevity.
Absorb every drop of hope,
Each ray of encouragement,
All words of praise.
Slice a leaf, snap a branch
And it will heal itself whole again,
Scar and stump the only sign.
Its own replenishment, resource, retreat,
A deep, wide wealth of well,
A barn full of grain for swallows in the snow.
Current life from yesterday’s rain,
From last summer’s sun,
Dense from receiving and holding of the giving.
How amazing to hold within and inside
Memories of kindness
To shade and shield from the heat
To insulate and inoculate against the cold
Until without and outside
Become a friend once more.


Heather Bartos lives near Portland, Oregon, and writes fiction, nonfiction, and poetry.  Her writing has been published in Miniskirt MagazineFatal Flaw Literary MagazineStoneboat Literary JournalPorcupine LiteraryYou Might Need To Hear This, and The Dillydoun Review, and upcoming in Scapegoat Review and The Closed Eye Open.

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