Poem: Sweet Deal

 Deities are nomads – clapping wanderers

spilling and spouting wisdoms 

                                                  on slopes, in tents 

until enough of us sanctify a place they can call home.

A cellar, a barn, church, temple or tabernacle –

out of the weather, 

                                 in from the hillside –

upgrade the boulder to ornate altar.

Polish the halo beneath a good roof.

But then they must come up with lessons and parables.  

The pressure is on  . . .  make us believe 

in fresh fables where ours are stale.  

Keep true returners hungry for allegories, mild scolding.  

Threaten malevolent blights and plagues.  

In my eleventh hour. 

                                   I long for them to extol us, 

and reward with more than sacred snacks –

restore with blessings and love.

A beneficial arrangement, and comfortable chair.  

Gold and shekels in the plate.  

                                                  Occasional myrrh.  

Fried chicken in a basket.  Socials.  Folding money.  

Seventh day adoration.  Got it made . . . 

plus two weeks off with praise. 

                                                by Sam Barbee

Poem: First Daffodil

 First Daffodil

The first daffodil bloomed today.

Brave yellow majorette,

she peered awkwardly behind

for other members of her troupe,

and espied a cluster of emerald shoots

beneath a barren tree.

Perhaps tomorrow

she will have company

on her march towards spring.

                                         by Jennifer Weiss

                                         This poem was previously published in Eno Magazine.

Poem: The Waves

 

I walk the pier, shunned

by the gulls, missing the echoes

of another pair

of footsteps.

 

I once cared to untangle

discarded fishing line and

repair damaged poles, but now

I count myself among the detritus.

 

The chipped railing,

gray with years of guts and rain,

does not cradle my arms comfortably.

 

I’d hoped you’d return to me—

an angel, a ghost, a mermaid, an unusual shell,

a clump of seaweed arranged just so.

 

Instead, I have the water.

 

Most look to the sky—I look

to the green depths and foam;

your whispers in the

crashes, our tears in the salt.

 

And the waves tell me

that there is such a thing

as eternity.

                                     by Katelyn Vause

Poem: TAXES

                   (My apologies to Edgar Allen Poe)

 

Once upon a midnight dreary as I struggled weak and weary

Over a changed Form 1040 I had never seen before.

 

Back and forth I did the sums, looking for deduction crumbs

Hoping, ever hoping that I’d find a way to score.

 

But alas twas not my lot to escape an awful blot

Upon my worldly fortune, Uncle Sam keeps wanting more.

 

My mind grows dim with sorrow, the due date is tomorrow,

And I must find the answer else I’ll end up very poor.

 

Can I deduct  those gambling debts resulting from my stupid bets?

Should I try to itemize my bar bill from the club?

What about my one contribution, will that not bring absolution?

Surely I can claim deduction for the new pants that I tore.

 

Alas ‘tis midnight past, and the time is flying fast, and I must find the answer

To the question: How much more?

 

You may think my answer funny; I'll just send them all my money,

And request that they return to me all that not spent before.

 

It is now six months gone by, and as yet there’s no reply,

Could it be that Uncle Sam will grant me no succor?

 

Then the Raven came rapping, rapping

The Raven came rapping, tapping at my window door.

Oh! To be so doubly blessed, a messenger from the IRS!

Surely he has come to tell me that my problems are no more.

 

And I said “Oh bird austere, do you bring me news of cheer?

If you brought to me a refund then together we will soar.

 

I am down to bread and beans, for I do not have the means

To buy a decent meal.  Tell me Raven,

 Am I affluent as I was in days of yore?

 

Quoth the Raven, “Never more!”

                                      by Al Manning

Poem: Defiant Is a Whiskey

Napa is wine; Carolina is whiskey.

Beyond the Internet, but not beyond the ubiquitous Dollar General

Winding through the green pavements of the upstate border road

Seeking Carolina whiskey dreams.

Passing over the rippling creek, past the trailer.

Swaying down a dirt drive to a distillery made by Florida pirates

Falling slats of shacks showing a gleaming barrel inside

A barking dog on the hill told me no one is home

Left me thirsty.

 

Long an expatriate in a foreign land,

Adopted by a cold California Sierra mountain.

Smelled vanilla Ponderosa pines, touched bold black obsidian, walked a sandy volcanic path.

Spent forty years in the high desert wilderness,

I left, thirsty.

 

Drank in the South, whiskey, and music.

Rainy afternoons, sunup to steaming evenings stared with fireflies.

At waterfall height, looking below to the great green arboreal creature

Breathing out what we breathe in.

Down in the dive bar, all sweating side by side, no civil war here. 

Satisfying my heart to dance with a cousin,

Drink a shot and branch water.

My bifurcated soul spans this country,

Stretches tight, snaps back.

Neither blue ocean, nor mountainside slakes my thirst complete.

Keep on

Sipping from that spiritual pipeline, California to North Carolina.

                                            

                                                           by  Nancy H. Williard

Poem: Ignition

Where have you been, girl

Hiding behind life's wrinkles

Pressed skin, one kiss...breathe

                                         by Pamela D. Hardy

Poem: Lost & Found

I search for a memory

Down the dusty corridors of my mind.

Past undistinguished boxes

And grey, unfocused shapes.

This is a memory I should know right away.

But can't retrieve it now when I need it.

I concentrate as I move through aisles

Of nothing particular.

Fuzzy piles of…stuff

But not what I want.

It should be around here;

I can almost get it.

I know it’s nearby.

Frustrated, I stop,

Think hard, and hard, then relax.

Like a text message

It suddenly appears,

Sharpening itself

So I can see it.

Finally!

That was an experience I am too familiar with,

And feelings of concern temporarily occupy the light.

Time to move on,

Everything back to normal.

                                         by George Kauffman