Feathers and Ferns by Myrtle Thomas

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Feathers and Ferns

spring with its blooms and quick rain
bluebirds like blue bells in the sky
feathers and song
red birds like drops of blood
hummingbirds silent on the flower
wings like a rustling wind
dawn sits on their backs like emerald stones
hints of fire – eyes like ebony
drunken with the nectar of roses
sprinkled with fire.

now the red bud tree is littered
with blood rubies and robins
the forest deep and yawning
life leaps upon its branches
green leaves peek from the crown
a blue-eyed child
in the middle red balloons
the sun with its bursting yellow blooms
flowers and white clouds
time holds between shadows and light.

for most there’s no need for a history of fern-
or feather – no desire to find the roots of a seed
but those who feel the sun’s warm fingers stretching
mending the broken hearts that grieve
casting clouds of butterflies
bees buzzing on the flower – covered with pollen
my lips ready for my lover’s kiss
ready for the fire that burns my breast
the laughter we find in the sweet grass
the moonlight that burns with its flame.

© Myrtle Thomas

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Myrtle Thomas

Myrtle Thomas lives in America and is retired from a large manufacturing company. She has been published in several poetry journals and magazines, and is a member of ALLpoetry.com, writing under the pen name Bluebird74. Myrtle self-published four poetry books and also has a new chapbook on Amazon (In My Land of Dreams). She uses poetry as a form of medicine to heal past wounds; poetry has been a companion to her for over thirty years.

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Poetry by Steven Bruce

Auguries of Despair
(Casper David Friedrich - Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog)

On the Edge of Nothing

AFTER JOHN KEATS

I fear I’ll drop dead

before the pen dries to wheat,

before the books stack high

enough to leave a mark,

before the night spits out

its secrets in phlegmy stars,

before I have the strength

to face more dumb, dangerous love,

before I can stand where I am,

hands empty, with a smile carved

into my face.

Auguries of Despair

AFTER WILLIAM BLAKE

To see a life in a glint of grit,

and beauty in a trampled flower.

To crush despair in your tired fist, and snatch joy from a rotten hour.

© Steven Bruce Enjoy more posts by Steven Bruce HERE.

Steven Bruce

Steven Bruce is a writer and a multiple-award-winning author. His poems and short stories have appeared in numerous international anthologies and magazines. In 2018, he graduated from Teesside University with a Master’s Degree in Creative Writing. You can follow Steven on his website: www.stevenbrucewriter.co.uk.

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SONGFEST by John Grey

Jesús Esteban San José

SONGFEST

The morning songfest is underway.

First up is the cardinal,

high in the lilac branch

with his “purdy purdy purdy.”

I offer up a

“whoit whoit whoit” 

in response.

Then the sparrows

overfill the brush

with trill.

My whistle adds 

to the clamor.

The Carolina wren, 

the titmouse,

the chickadee –

my imitation

is heartfelt,

even if not taken seriously.

Yet if birds ever need

a man to stand in for them,

I’m ready.

Only the flying escapes me.

© John Grey

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John Grey

John Grey is an Australian poet, a US resident, and has recently been published in Midnight Mind, Novus, and Abbey. His latest books, “Bittersweet," “Subject Matters,” and “Between Two Fires,” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Alchemy, Touchstone, and Willow Review.

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THIS WORLD by Lorraine Caputo

skigh_tv

THIS WORLD

I meditate in the blood light

of that eclipsing moon

When I return

to this world

my unsteady self

captures its image

I delve again

into that other world

deeply immersed in dreams

I do not remember

& awaken to a heavy rain

cleansing this world

© Lorraine Caputo

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Lorraine Caputo

Poet-translator Lorraine Caputo’s works appear internationally in over 500 journals and 23 collections of poetry – including In the Jaguar Valley (Dancing Girl Press, 2023). She is a Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize nominee. She journeys through Latin America, listening to the voices of the pueblos and Earth.

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Poetry by Linda Imbler

Jordan Benton

Tribute To A Man

An orchestra of wildlife, 

paying tribute to

a bedridden man,

ready to retire from God’s payroll,

as his songs of life

are trilled through the musical sands of his hourglass.

~~~~~

Small Birds

Eaglets and other birds,

whether pheasant, cowbird, or toucan,

their peepy chants,

the only language of the little ones,

tend to ripple through the brood,

tenants riding shotgun

on their twiggy dinette.

Hens of all types,

sitting on windowsills

until shooed away.

A beakful of a dozen wiggly treats,

a boon for the babies

who will take their tenacious grip on the worms,

mouths open to take in

their sacrament in their birdey basilica,

with mother and sometimes father watching.

They mingle and they change,

but early on they simply lie back,

like they’re on vacation,

and wait for their feasts.

© Linda Imbler

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Linda Imbler

Linda Imbler is the author of eleven paperback poetry collections and four e-book collections (Soma Publishing). This writer lives in Wichita, Kansas, with her husband, Mike the Luthier, and an ever-growing family of gorgeous guitars. Learn more at lindaspoetryblog.blogspot.com.

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Insults by Kushal Poddar

Rafael Minguel Delgado

Insults 

I didn't comprehend 

most of the slang, the bulk

of the insults. Soon lost

that safe bay, harbor 

of innocence. A friend 

told me, "Now you know 

that place where the tongue

of our country ends

and its brain fumbles

for the leash of the reign.

I asked him, "Am I now

included? In your clan?"

"Do you feel insecure?"

He asked. I looked around. 

It was a dry ocean.

It was a reflection of a dark stone.

© Kushal Poddar

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Kushal Poddar

Kushal Poddar has authored ten books, the latest being A White Can For The Blind Lane, and his works have been translated into twelve languages. He is a co-editor for Outlook Magazine and the editor of Words Surfacing. He does illustrations and sketches for various magazines.

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Mistletoe by Michael Brockley

Karen Laårk Boshoff

Mistletoe

I come from a place where women are named Holly and Joy. From where men want to be nicknamed Melchior or Nicholas. I come from Decembers where gold stars dance at the end of invisible strings on a Yule tree. I come from “Good King Wenceslas,” “Greensleeves,” and “The Wexford Carol.” From rabbit tracks twinned in the snow. I come from a place where a fire dragon exchanges gifts with a small friar. I am the son of a mistletoe merchant. The man-child who lifts mistletoe sprigs so high that those who are meant to be kissed might be kissed gloriously. 

© Michael Brockley

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Michael Brockley

Michael Brockley is a retired school psychologist who lives in Muncie, Indiana. His prose poems have appeared in The Prose Poem, Doublespeak Mag, and Keeping the Flame Alive. In addition, Brockley's prose poems are forthcoming in Bay to Ocean Journal, Unlikely Stories Mark VI, and Stormwash: Environmental Poems, Volume II.

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Gazing Closely by Sushant Thapa

Esteban Carriazo

Gazing Closely

Never sleep
On your dreams.

Never open a tale
And leave it
Without its ending.

The idea is to go on.
We meet and depart.

Never let the pauses
Decide how far
You can go.

Reflect if you have to,
Rejoice if you care.

There is a pain
That laughter cannot hold.

We hide in our smile
What cannot be said.

The night is just a recollection,
And survival is throughout the day.

Separation speaks volumes,
Desire is a cage,
Love is a true gaze.

© Sushant Thapa

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Sushant Thapa

Sushant Thapa is a Nepalese poet who holds an M.A. in English from Jawaharlal Nehru University in New Delhi, India, with nine books of English poems and one short story collection to his credit. His poems are published at The Kathmandu Post, Trouvaille Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Outlook India, Corporeal Lit Mag, Feed the Holy, Masticadores USA,  Indian Review, etc. He is an English lecturer in Biratnagar, Nepal. 

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Silence at Night Postcards by Ma Yongbo, Helen Pletts, and Nolcha Fox

Chris F

darkness and exaggerated silence wrap the house,

the still corners; the road and all her signals sleep.

Deep night is the poetic echo in a still shell

the night shore is only a foot deep

in flickering desk lamp and shadow,

even the pictures have folded up their wings,

the nightsongcontinuously resurfacing

(Helen)

Sandy Torch

Evening snow shrouds the house and the road,

a winter ghost of silence

that glows in the moonlight, casts shadows on the walls.

Pictures take wing, float in subdued breathing

of sleep and of night.

(Nolcha)

Lloyd Freeman

The silence of night is a snowfall from mountains

beyond the town,

from a man who bought wine before the tavern closed,

shoulders slanting,

walking home along the fading path.

 

It comes from the all-night lamp on the green porch

that casts a circle of light, where he paused a while,

listening to the subdued voices inside, and

the surrounding mountains.

(Yongbo)

Krivec Ales

The man from the tavern carries silence on his shoulders.

The circle of light is his halo. He unfolds his wings,

and flies toward the mountains, into the morning sun.

(Nolcha)

Yongbo’s Translation into Chinese

黑暗与夸张的寂静笼罩着屋子

静止的角落，道路及所有讯息都已沉睡。

深夜是寂静空壳里诗的回响。

夜岸不过一尺深浅，摇曳在台灯与影子之间，

甚至那些画也收敛了翅膀，

夜曲不断地重新响起。

 （海伦）

暮雪覆盖了屋舍与长路，寂静冬日的幽魂，

沐着月色泛出微光，在墙上投下影子。

画面展开翅膀，飘游在睡眠与夜压抑的呼吸里。

（诺尔查）

 

夜晚的寂静是一场雪，来自城外的群山，

来自一个在酒馆打烊前沽酒，倾斜着肩膀

沿着逐渐消失的小路回家的男人 

来自绿色门廊上彻夜不眠的灯盏

投下的光圈，他在里边停了片刻，

倾听屋内压低的声音，以及周遭的群山

（永波）

 

从酒馆出来的男子把寂静驮在肩上。

他的光圈是圣徒的晕轮。他舒展双翼，

飞向群山，飞进早晨的太阳。 

（诺尔查）

© Ma Yongbo, Helen Pletts, and Nolcha Fox

Ma Yongbo 

Ma Yongbo is a Ph.D., representative of Chinese avant-garde poetry, and a leading scholar in Anglo-American poetry. He has published over 80 original works and translations since 1986, including 6 poetry collections. He focuses on translating and teaching Anglo-American poetry and prose, including the works of Dickinson, Whitman, Stevens, Pound, Williams, and Ashbery. He recently published a complete translation of Moby Dick, which sold over half a million copies. He teaches at Nanjing University of Science and Technology.

Helen Pletts

Helen Pletts 海伦·普莱茨 is the English co-translator of the Chinese poet Ma Yongbo 马永波, who is her official Chinese translator. She is a committee member of CB1 Poetry, the established monthly poetry reading event in central Cambridge, UK, which has organized poetry readings for many years. CB1 features up-and-coming writers and well-known poetry names. Her work has been translated into Chinese, Bangla, Greek, Vietnamese, Serbian, Korean, Arabic, Italian, Albanian, and Romanian. Website: https://www.helenpletts.com/.

Nolcha Fox

Nolcha Fox’s poems have been curated in print and online journals. A best-selling author, her poetry books are available on Amazon and Dancing Girl Press. Nominated for Best Of The Net and The Pushcart Prize multiple times. Editor of Chewers by Masticadores and LatinosUSA. Website: https://writingaddiction2.wordpress.com/.

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