Poetry

by Lillian Heimisdottir

Lightning shatters the darkness
like gunfire from on high
and roaring thunder disturbs
the stillness of the night.

Frightened birds are shrieking
while humming fills the air.
Then all is suddenly quiet
and silence is everywhere.

Silence – And moments later
the rain comes gushing down;
falling with rage and fury
like fire on the ground.

by Lillian Heimisdottir

  It is late and night is falling,
sombre darkness settles down
on the world and mantles nature
in a dusky velvet gown. 

Now it’s time for us to seek a
sheltered refuge for the night
and to rest our tired bones
until the dawning of the light.

Even though our steps are heavy
and we’re weary from the way,
we will go on with our journey
at the breaking of the day.

by Lillian Heimisdottir

Cold and bitter wind is blowing
and the streets are soaked with rain.
Chilling autumn has decided
to torment us with disdain.

Even though it’s only six o’clock
it is already dark.
Not a single star illuminates
the night sky with its spark.

Now the fog comes creeping in
and shrouds the world in deepest gloom.
And it carries with it
a foreboding of impending doom.

Hopefully the weary vagrants
that are still out there and roam
the deserted streets of this
forsaken town will find a home.

by  Ashley Andresson 

 The only people worth our time are those

 who never yawn or say prevalent things;

 The ones who are desirous of the world

 and those who yearn for everything at once.

 They burn like Roman candles in the night,

 before exploding bright across the stars. 

They glow and burn to ashes as they chase 

their lofty dreams with wild tenacity.

 And as we watch them going up in flames

 we know that they have drunk life to the lees, 

and with their charismatic force they have 

forever changed the landscape of our hearts. 

by  Lillian Heimisdottir 

 Rain clouds hide the sun 

Leaves are falling from the trees

 Soon the summer's gone 

 Walking with my dog

 Near the old, enchanted pond

 No sign of a frog 

 Languid summer pace 

Not a worry in the world 

Sunshine on my face 

 Sunset and a crow

 Like a cut-out silhouette 

In the afterglow 

 Evening falls and I 

Am awoken from my thoughts 

By a barn owl’s cry 

 Counting flocks of sheep

 Grazing in a meadow field 

Soon I'm sound asleep  

 Clouds of golden hue 

Sail across the evening sky

 Still so much to do 

by Sydney Lea  

 Driving a wire-thin road 

 on my way back home from a local trout stream 

 I braked, no traffic behind me, 

in fact not a car in sight.

 Backlit by lamplight, her shadow 

showed on her cabin’s window blind.

 O Lord, how stooped. 

O Lord, how ungainly.

 A miracle some twenty years since, 

it was as if she’d dropped from a cloud 

to her place in these back woods, 

well after few remembered

 –if they ever knew, that is–

 what a legend she’d been. I remembered.

 I instantly summoned her face

 from my red-lacquer LP’s jacket. 

Through the winds of December

 And the magic of May 

Through a million tomorrows

 I’ll remember today

. I played that one song again and again

 so often that one winter morning

 my mother, hoarse and hung-over, 

threw the record down and smashed it.

 I’ve long forgiven her

 for that and for other random explosions

 as I strive to pardon my own. 

My rage, to be sure, matched the moment.

 And so did hers.

 But that silhouette on the blind, 

no matter how quickly gone,

 sent me back to those scattered red shards.

 O Lord, what a trail of ruin.  

by   Erin Jamieson 

 I trace your chapped lips

 in the center of a town square 

snow blanketing streets 

& naked branches 

reaching towards us

 like the ghosts of lovers

 who now live in eternal winter

 you pull away

 so our last moments 

will be forever distilled 

in sepia: shadows, misty streetlamps 

homes burdened with 

by  Sarah Sands Phillips  

Is It Obvious

 The geometry?

 We are all this in spaces 

of gathered angles

 Corners hitting measured hearts 

that must move worlds, and be moved 

Do You Remember

 Do you remember that time in the studio? 

It fell out of me 

dropped and rolled quick past my tongue

 “I feel like I’m not living” 

Cockroach

 There is just something

 about him that unsettles

 me, makes me obsess

 become a helpless digger

 a shadow’s corners keeper  

by   John RC Potter  

 You remind me of a lake I once 

stood at the edge of long ago: 

shallow, so shallow,

 lacking depth 

but to the touch just cold.

  You are that lake:

 not very deep,

 seemingly calm on the surface

 but the dirt churns below;

 somewhat beguiling,

 somewhat elusive, 

as smooth as glass

 and almost as

 transparent.

  I could walk across that lake 

 but I cannot walk to you;

  a cold lake in winter 

 is more inviting

  and less dangerous. 

 You push me away from your shore.

  I want to plumb your depths 

 but you won’t let me enter

even your shallow end. 

 I know that if only you’d let me 

 I could cross the shallows  

and reach out to touch

  your other side. 

You remind me of a lake I once

 stopped to take a drink from long ago: 

cold

 so

 cold.