Monday, February 25, 2019

Winter Evening Walk, a poem by Jennifer Froehle

Winter Evening Walk
by Jennifer Froehle

Hoarse trilling on high heralds the flying vee.
Onward they come, fleet
in full formation,
ragged-edged outliers, collapsing and rebuilding
the ingrained pattern, weak drafting off strong.

Wings beat in unison,
Incising cuneiform wedges across smudged gray clouds,
Skywriting news of shortening days and dwindling light,
Foretelling us the ending of the year.

In the sharp air, I freeze,
Lift eyes to track their path
As they sweep past,
So purposeful, their call
to flight embedded in their souls.

For one brief moment, I know I could go,
Join the airborne caravan
trekking southwest toward the light,
Follow sky roads mapped upon our cells to their end,
And bask in warmer climes till springtime turns us home.

I would lift into the air,
Fight this tug of earth with all my might
Until, aloft, I found my place
behind a fellow traveler, settled in
And I would fly.

Honks and cries recede
Before the swirling outline fades from sight,
A breath and they are gone,
Sweeping the year along in their silent wake.

And I resume my journey home
on foot.

Jenny Froehle is an Indianapolis writer and consultant with decades of experience as a middle school teacher of language arts. She is at work on a novel, but takes frequent procrastination breaks to write professional articles, blog posts, and poetry inspired by her evening walks.

Monday, February 18, 2019

If I'd Been Starry-Eyed, a prose poem by Lylanne Musselman

If I’d Been Starry-Eyed
by Lylanne Musselman

Once upon a time I had a poet as a suitor. I was too young to appreciate the gesture of having poems written for and about me. I was only 14 years old, so what could I know except the mantra from my mom about looks and money? He had neither at 16, but he was nice. Heartbroken and sad, he eventually moved on, leaving me to search for Mr. Right. After years of having my heart broken and being sad, I see I was misguided. My romantic, creative side could’ve had a soulmate who loves what I create, and I could’ve fallen for him as some fairy tale loves have been known to do. Our same road not taken led us down different life paths; I’ll never know what could’ve become of those two kids who enjoyed summer night walks, seeing who could count the most stars; who strummed guitars side by side, and dreamed Midwest magic, but whose lyrical hearts never quite harmonized together.

Lylanne Musselman is an award-winning poet, playwright, and artist, living in Indiana. Her work has appeared in Pank, Flying Island, Tipton Poetry Journal, The New Verse News, and The Ekphrastic Review, among others, and many anthologies. Musselman is the author of five chapbooks, including the recent Red Mare 16 (Red Mare Press, 2018), a co-author of the volume of poetry, Company of Women: New and Selected Poems, (Chatter House Press, 2013) and author of the new full-length poetry collection, It’s Not Love, Unfortunately (Chatter House Press, 2018).

Monday, February 11, 2019

Stoic Dawn, a poem by Jessie Browne

Stoic Dawn
by Jessie Browne

Motionless morning—
You lie passively.
Do you resist or languish?

Under your dead-weight
Gaze, squirming, I feel
My exuberance falter;

Gently, joy abates,
Finding itself bridled,
Sheepishly going to ground.

Water quenches fire;
You are not the rain.
Stone hedges. The inferno,

Not slaked or smothered,
Burns stationary --
A moving picture, dancing

Light show, wild, denied,
Full of longing, and
Hungry to combust anew

From Jessie Brown: “I have been honing my skills as a music journalist at Indy Metal Vault and a memoirist on my personal blog,  Professionally, I am a chemist in the food and beverage industry. I live on the near Eastside of Indy in Little Flower with a spunky calico cat.”

Monday, February 4, 2019

O Poesy Romance Unmasked, a poem by Gerard Sarnat

O Poesy Romance Unmasked
by Gerard Sarnat

My wife, who once
was lost to another

gave me L.Cohen’s
82 years’ ordinary

which read dreary like they
shouldn’t see the light of

But underneath all that
chaff, I can begin to

then find what would become
Suzanne and Hallelujah

Brother Leonard’s determined
task to dress kōans for

was to find paths that
dance us to end of

Gerard Sarnat won the Poetry in the Arts First Place Award plus the Dorfman Prize, has been nominated for Pushcarts and authored four collections: HOMELESS CHRONICLES (2010), Disputes (2012), 17s (2014), and Melting The Ice King (2016), which included work published by Oberlin, Brown, Columbia, Johns Hopkins and in Gargoyle, American Journal of Poetry (Margie), Main Street Rag, MiPOesias, New Delta Review, Brooklyn Review, Los Angeles Review of Books, Voices Israel, Tishman Review, Suisun Valley Review, Burningwood Review, Fiction Southeast, Junto, Tiferet, plus featured in New Verse News, Eretz, Avocet, LEVELER, tNY, StepAway, Bywords, Floor Plan, Good-Man-Project, Anti-Heroin-Chic, Poetry Circle, Fiction Southeast, Walt Whitman Tribute Anthology and Tipton Poetry Journal. For Huffington Post/other reviews, readings, publications, and interviews, visit Harvard/Stanford educated, Gerry’s worked in jails, built/staffed clinics for the marginalized, been a CEO and Stanford Med professor. Married for a half century, Gerry has three kids and four grandkids so far.