Eighth Magnitude Decline by Richard King Perkins II

 

Gordon Bishop

Eighth Magnitude Decline

In a chilblain forest

a clearing admits the passage of moonlight

as the white bells of snowdrops

crackle slightly beneath your eyes. 

Your naked vision finds Neptune,

the faintest of captured pearls

even in its eighth magnitude decline.

Beneath the rise of your uplifted chin

a Lenten rose emerges

mistaking your flesh for the first sign of spring.

© Richard King Perkins II

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Richard King Perkins II

Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-
term care facilities. He lives in Huntley, IL, with his wife, Vickie, and daughter, Sage. His work has appeared in more than fifteen hundred publications.

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Three Seguidilla by Jake Sheff

 

Taryn Elliott

Three Sequidilla

The Seagull’s 134th Seguidilla

 

The smartest and the fastest

Gulls are gulls and gulls

Only. With humble and honest 

Hope, I crush my goals.

South-westerlies jogged 

The sky’s big white migration.

Since then, time’s jagged. 

The Seagull’s 137th Seguidilla

 

The minds of other seagulls 

Are behind a veil,

As are those other worlds to

Ours in parallel. 

Importance, too; I 

Know that to ring its frail bell

Sometimes experts lie. 

The Seagull’s 140th Seguidilla

 

One can’t miss how weird it is

To be alive. Sub-

Species of confusion try,

Like every Jacob.

Wholly unfettered,

A bird’s not free long without

My brother’s bollard.

The seguidilla is a verse form of Spanish in origin. It has seven syllable-counted lines, and rhymes the second and fourth, and the fifth and seventh lines.

© Jake Sheff

Jake Sheff 

Jake Sheff is a pediatrician and US Air Force veteran. He’s published a full-length collection of formal poetry, “A Kiss to Betray the Universe” (White Violet Press), along with three chapbooks: “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing), “The Rites of Tires” (SurVision), and “The Seagull’s First One Hundred Seguidillas” (Alien Buddha Press).

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Letter to autumn by Mykyta Ryzhykh

 

Ylanite Koppens

Letter to autumn

You wrote me a letter from the past,
As if from a distant land.
Each word a fragment of time,
Each paragraph a bridge to the unknown.

I read your lines,
And each word sounds familiar.
As if you were sitting beside me,
Not in a far-off world I do not know.

But the letter you sent,
Like a stone dropped in a quiet river,
Sends ripples through my memories,
And I find you where you were not.

first published in The Wise Owl

© Mykyta Ryzhykh

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Mykyta Ryzhykh

Mykyta Ryzhykh, an author from Ukraine, now lives in Tromsø, Norway. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2023 and 2024. He’s published in many literary magazines іn Ukrainian and English: Tipton Poetry Journal, Stone Poetry Journal, Neologism Poetry Journal, Shot Glass Journal, QLRS, The Crank, Chronogram, The Antonym, Monterey Poetry Review, Five Fleas Itchy Poetry, and many others.

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