Tuesday, September 29, 2020

Poet's Corner

Mechanical Failure

By John Eisner if you can leave yourself just for a moment you will see them trotting thru glass held corridors they pull black bags on wheels moving only forward away from longing towards regret strangers to each other they laugh at misunderstood...

Cocktail Party

I talked to an artist considered iconic Chatted with a friend who is always ironic Laughed a lot with a swarthy beauty Engaged in gossip, as if by duty Sipped a tall vodka laced with tonic Talked politics and...

Poet’s Corner: Appointments

By Barbara Peckham When we were young we’d go for weeks And nary a doctor we’d see. But now that our senior years have arrived Seems that hardly a moment is free. Appointments accumulate day after day — It’s hard...

My Stone

By Lenny Hall The peaceful countenance upon my face Came with the thoughts of my resting place — The locust trees, the peaceful shade, Is where my final bones were laid. The epitaph upon my stone Was at first glance...

Sign of Spring

By George Balco The creature stretches from his long, long nap, And smells the trees just oozing their sap. He sharpens his claws and practices his leap, So take care, you voles and birds. Do not peep. The grass...

Last Frost

The last frost of winter occurred last night although it is spring now. The warm dampness of yesterday, which felt like Florida air blown north, in the clear moonlit night turned to crystal and rime ice, coating every blade of...

Spring

wind whooshes and rattles up metal vents through walls crawl spaces halting silence hovers just above my head air thick around me back to my chimes sound before sun shimmer before day vibration before light still in the momentum of Spring Valerie Sonnenthal joined the Cleaveland House Poets...

Photo of a Boy with a Football

By John Eisner To this moment’s me attached observer as close to my end as this boy is to my beginning, the scene seems staged more custom than passion on this early spring park visit the sun offering no warmth bequeaths only a...

Ode to Longboarding

By Landen Osborn Stromsoe I grab my board Drop it on the ground I give a push I'm on my way down Going down a hill Collecting speed I feel the grip lock in my feet My grip is like sandpaper, it's...

Aunt Ethel’s

By Jo Scotford Rice It seemed we were all children of that house and it was a place to go home. It held the sacred attic full of our ancestral past. The beds were birthplaces, womb-homes to crawl back into, where...

Night

By Joel Holmberg Frozen beneath the snow living in a cryologic state the tiny bodies feel nothing until marsh ice melts and spiders begin weaving webs immediate urgency with tinkling calls for a mate competing with hundreds stopping only to seize with sticky tongue that spinning spider Listening...

Eulogy for the Old Man on the Hill

By Maurice Young (1972) There’s a lonely old man away, way high up on a hill; puffing vainly on his pipe amidst the stench in the chill that his angry smoldering fires have been unable to kill in...

in a wood / where nobody goes

By Jill Jupen You will come to it (to borrow a phrase). You can do something forever. I did it once. I mean, that happens. The Archbishop of Anarchy. The poet and what he has not seen. He too gets tired of getting lost in the trees. Of rising each morning wishing to be just an...

Everything the Snow Touched Turned Blue

By Fan Ogilvie Cans no gallons of paint fell from the sky in a marvel of rivers coating the forests the fields the winter fallow gardens all houses restaurants businesses and the glass blowing barn with...

Figures in a Landscape

By George Mills I was sitting on the back steps mumbling a toothpick, thinking about the mayflies dying in the kitchen sink. My reveries kept changing sex, then flew off into a frenzy of cathedral building. How sad, I thought, that I...

The Man Who Loved Mountains

By Lee H. McCormack Because he loved mountains he stood at the edge of the sea Studying wind for signs and scents of apple trees standing sentry Over forsaken meadows still flowering with the insects of summer. The...

Poet’s Corner: To Frost

By M.R. Baird I woke up to a world of white You up in that forest, still Walking on the newly fallen, Down the path you knew so well, Tallest pines bent down heavy Greet the morning, Full to breaking, It’s what...

Sunday Morning, Vineyard Style

By Nancy Langman Rooster crowing getting loud sky lightening Ne’er a cloud Cat purring Snuggled tight He’s been there Through the night Dog sleeping Foot of bed All that I see Is her head Birds chirping Fewer now As winter Bends the bough Snow falling Lightly here Barely sticking Soon to clear Hubby snoring Very softly Soon...

Poet’s Corner: Snowy Owl

By Philip A. Zentz Snowy Owl takes to flight On lumbering feathered wings Broad in body, white on white With only a hoot he sings Vanishing into the snowy night Not a silent majestic soar Against gravity he fights Takeoff, a solemn...

Poet’s Corner: Dune

By Steve Ewing Great sentinel of sand how quietly you stand and slowly shed yourself into the sea Beaches sprawl beneath aprons at your feet while silently you creep away into the deep (Truro) Steve Ewing is a dock builder, living in Edgartown, with his wife Claudia. Steve is the town's...