Tag: joy

i touch this ripe tomato

1 May 2024 / Editor

Poetry by Amelia Díaz Ettinger

and marvel at how all things
soften—

his voice muted
to warm embers that avoid
scarlet overtones

and my old hands
carved to rice paper,
skin hulled away from bone

even this butcher knife
is dulled from over-care
now it cuts with tenderness

yes,
time’s own waltz,
mollifies all things

and i applaud these parenthesis
of my mouth, how
they enliven my sight

after all they are the repositories
of elapsed laughter

Amelia Díaz Ettinger is a Latinx BIPOC poet and writer. She has three books of poetry and two chapbooks published. Her poetry and short stories have appeared in many literary journals and anthologies.

Photo by Sebastian Coman Photography on Unsplash

Just Kids

1 May 2024 / Editor

Poetry by Susan Zwingli

deep summer bursts the wide garden gate
sweet freedom calls us from whitewashing fences
soon, the jilted brush slouches down the wall, bereft
but we take the hill and its warm, tickling grasses
your emerald eyes tracking the tickling path of a ladybug on my arm
she has her secrets, we have ours
race you, yeah! on the count of three?
running, breathless, our legs pumping pistons
laughing, landing double on your banana-seat bike
a playing card clipped to the tires, poppity-pop-popping
my hands holding onto your hips
we think we’re so grown up, you and I
but late-day thunder booms deep in the sky,
somewhere, far-off, our innocence is running out of time
the changing light chases us, softly laps at our ice cream
mint chip for you, raspberry sherbet for me
blushing my lips pink like the lipstick I’m forbidden to wear
I hope you’ll see
you smile, the freckles on your nose a sweet constellation that I want to kiss
when did you become something more
than just a boy I played with at recess?
I’m all of 11 now, one foot in, one foot racing ahead to some map-less place
but maybe today, we can just be kids, lost in the strange and the wonderful
wandering deep along the river bed, fireflies lighting the sweet-smelling rain
fingers and dreams entangled
while our mothers’ hearts are calling us home

Susan Zwingli is a poet currently living in Boise, Idaho. She writes about love, belonging, and loss, as well as the natural beauty of the Northwest, and exploring mystical spirituality. She holds a BA in English from Michigan State University and a Masters from the Portland Seminary (OR).

If Not Glitter, If Not Gold

17 December 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Kersten Christianson

This early Sunday morning
my coffee mug steams.
A miniature Mauna Loa,
it resides within an archipelago

of trunk-top clutter: Solstice gifts,
dog-eared chapbooks, sun-bright
Satsumas. In this indigo light,
I scour Etsy for glitter-crusted

New Year banners, lunar calendars,
their moons of the year stamped
in bright gold, not just on paper,
but parchment. I can’t explain

this fiery December need for
glimmer & glam, twinkle & flash,
but I am ever the believer, searcher
for the harbinger of fortune & joy.

Kersten Christianson is a poet and English teacher from Sitka, Alaska. She is the author of Curating the House of Nostalgia (Sheila-Na-Gig 2020) and Something Yet to Be Named (Kelsay Books, 2017). She serves as poetry editor of Alaska Women Speak. Kersten savors road trips, bookstores, and smooth ink pens.

Another Christmas

17 December 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Rohan Buettel

That time of year has come again.
We brave the crowds in shopping malls
and search the shelves but look in vain,
the perfect gift not on these walls.
The hours we spend in kitchens hot
preparing food that tastes so good.
A Christmas meal will hit the spot,
enough to feast the neighbourhood.

The cheer of hearing from old friends,
the family gathers round at last,
repair the breaks and make amends,
a time to put away the past.
The effort worth it all to place
a smile upon a little face.

Rohan Buettel lives in Canberra, Australia. His haiku appear in various Australian and international journals (including Presence, Cattails and The Heron’s Nest). His longer poetry appears in more than fifty journals, including The Goodlife Review, Rappahannock Review, Penumbra Literary and Art Journal, Passengers Journal, Reed Magazine, Meniscus and Quadrant.

Bellflower

30 March 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Charlene Stegman Moskal

for Barnett

You were a surprise—
planted in early spring

in soil too dry
to hold the essence of you,

but there you were
digging in

like the Bellflower
that has ridden the wind,

dropped gently or tumbled
into a dark, moist, earth-spiced bed

to carry the generations
that shaped its destiny

to grow , bloom, offer itself
to the world as a spark of color,

royal purple heralding the summer
against a background green as hope.

And here you are,
my own unexpected Bellflower

just when I was sure
the field had gone fallow.

Charlene Stegman Moskal is a Teaching Artist for the Las Vegas Poetry Promise Organization. She is published in numerous anthologies, print magazines and online. Her chapbooks are One Bare Foot (Zeitgeist Press), Leavings from My Table (Finishing Line Press) with a third from Kelsay Books in Fall 2023.

Breaking Open Joy

1 March 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Stacie Eirich

Focus the flow, let the gentle waves glide and roll,
rippling across the velvet smooth surface
of sand. Feel the wind settle gently into twilight— golden, shimmering.

Find gentle respite in the cool relief of night,
welcome the peace of nature’s sounds, night’s embrace
of sleepful solace. Listen to the nightingale’s melody— golden, shimmering.

Follow the dawn into tomorrow, unloading grief and sorrow,
stress and struggle, letting happiness in, breaking open the boundaries
for joy. See it waiting in wings of light— golden, shimmering.

Stacie Eirich is a poet, singer & mother of two. Her poems have recently appeared in Last Leaves, The Journey (Paddler Press), Synkroniciti Magazine and Valiant Scribe Literary Journal, among others. Her home is near New Orleans, La; her heart is wherever a song can be found. www.stacieeirich.com

beach sand — Photo by Josh Sorenson on Pexels.com

Reflected Light

3 February 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Wendy Bloom

I saw the light reflecting on a piece of something buried in the loamy soil
When I looked closely, I realized it was a piece of myself
That I had buried away for darker days

Filled with darkness and despair
In a world filled with the tragic
It had fallen out of me, and I thought it was gone forever
But it was lying right in front of me

I grasped it in my hand
This shiny piece of myself
I turned it over and over
And rubbed my fingers against its slick surface

I decided to swallow it
To bring it back home to the center of my emptiness
To fill this hole with something that glistened
And sang beautiful music to my heart

It became one with me once again
And I smiled as I heard it laughing
Because it had been seeking me for so long
And had finally made its way back home

Wendy Bloom is an emerging writer who has written numerous poems, short stories, and essays on a wide variety of topics since childhood. She has been published in her local newspaper and “Reflected Light” is her first published poem.

before the sky

11 July 2022 / Editor

Poetry by Ken Cathers

you sit on the handlebars
I’ll pedal like crazy

we’ll be a great fabled bird
on a dirt road journey

hang onto the wind
my little one, hang on

nothing can
catch us now

we will be home
long before

the sky can open
and crush our joy
with thunder

Ken Cathers lives on Vancouver Island off the west coast of Canada and has spent much of his life working in the forest industry. He has been writing for several decades and has seven books of poetry. Several poems have appeared in Impspired (England) and the MacGuffin (U.S.).

The Greeting

10 July 2022 / Editor

Poetry by Leslie Dianne

I stop time
with words
and images
I shake
loose
sleepy syllables
and let them nudge
the atmosphere
I fill this space
with myself in another shape
and I am letting you know
that the
flicker of joy
that passes in the breeze
and tickles your memory
that gravityless pull that
makes you want to fly
is me
in a different form
greeting you
saying hello

Leslie Dianne is a poet, novelist, screenwriter, playwright and performer. Her work has been acclaimed internationally at the Harrogate Fringe Festival in Great Britain, The International Arts Festival in Tuscany, Italy and at La Mama in NYC. Her poems appear in Noctivant Press, Moida, Treouvaille Review, Constellate Magazine and elsewhere.

Guidebook for Heart Protection

16 April 2022 / Editor

Poetry by Kersten Christianson

Eat your greens: Spruce tips,
kale, fiddleheads; Bead berries
picked straight from the bush:

Salmon, blue, huckle,
rasp, black. Critical stretching,
mandatory, deep

breathing, proof of pulse.
Yoga, meditation, plant
seeds, cultivate blue

poppies. Frenetic
chase, two tiny juncos flit
from cedar branch to

hemlock. Give yourself
space to smile when he calls you
sweetie. Pursue joy.

Kersten Christianson: Alaskan Poet, Moon Gazer, Raven Watcher, Northern Trekker, Teacher. She is the poetry editor of Alaska Women Speak, authored Curating the House of Nostalgia (Sheila-Na-Gig, 2020), What Caught Raven’s Eye (Petroglyph Press, 2018), and Something Yet to Be Named (Kelsay Books, 2017). Kersten lives with her daughter in Sitka, Alaska.