An Online Literary Journal for Poetry and Flash

Tag: villanelle

The Pillars of Creation*

Poetry by Arthur Ginsberg

The pillars of creation fill my sight,
in ways I cannot fathom make me pray
and revel in the origin of light.

Though Galileo knew the stars were bright,
he could not know red dwarfs, light years away.
The pillars of creation fill my sight.

The James Webb telescope has taken flight
with golden panels opened wide today
to gather in the origin of light.

Men who’ve slipped earth’s bonds can ignite
the rapture mortals see in cosmic clay.
The pillars of creation fill my sight.

We peer now into space beyond the height
where angels fly and clarion trumpets play
and revel in the origin of light.

Beloveds who passed through tunnels, brilliant white,
came from the stuff of stars at which we gaze.
The pillars of creation fill my sight,
I revel in the origin of light.

*molten rock and dust in the shape
of pillars seen through the Webb
telescope, glowing in deep space


Arthur Ginsberg is a poet based in Seattle. Past work appears in the anthologies, Blood and Bone, and Primary Care. He received the William Stafford prize in 2003. He holds an MFA degree from Pacific University in Oregon. His most recent book, Holy the Body was published by Kelsay Books.

Happy 125th Birthday Miss Earhart

Poetry by Melissa Wold

Oh Pidge, it’s just like flying.

Amelia Earhart (july 24, 1897 – january 5, 1939)

Like Nike, were you fated to fly
from a box off the roof of Grandpa’s shed
into clouds of gossamer sighs?

Did your treetop view of birds in the sky
propel your wings of imagination to spread?
Like Nike, were you fated to fly?

In your Electra sleek and spry
from the ordinariness you fled
into clouds of gossamer sighs.

Your tenacity and daring mystify
those of us who live in fear and dread.
Like Nike, were you fated to fly?

Did you hear the hue and cry?
Your loss left the world bereft; grief bled
into clouds of gossamer sighs.

On an island unknown, bones petrify.
Your story’s end remains unread.
Like Nike, were you fated to fly
into clouds of gossamer sighs?


Melissa Wold is retired from a career in higher education. She writes with a group affiliated with Mobile Botanical Gardens in Mobile, Alabama. She lives with two rat terriers named Rocket and Spark Plug. They refer to her as their live-in help.

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