When Darkness Falls
Before darkness envelops the world, the poet gathers together a treasure trove of memories of a forty-year-old marriage and talks of a friend who pens poems about his dead wife and the glorious time that they spent together. These memories act as bridge over a swift black falling.
When darkness comes like a swift black falling,
like an uninvited guest who harbours
a dream of revenge or like us, beloved, you and I
who after forty years still piece and parcel our love,
like vultures who carry their hard-done-by-ness
as bits of flesh and small bones, something to tide us
over like a bargain until darkness comes.
I have a friend who writes love poem after love
poem to his dead wife when darkness comes, as
though every memory were glorious, every word kind
as touch, soft as lips brushing a cheek, every thought
generous as flesh ripe in its come-hither wonder,
poem after poem like a bridge over a swift black falling,
something to tide him over until darkness comes.
Sometimes we set a place at our table
for the uninvited guest, you and I,
generous then like beloved friends, kind
as a forty-year marriage, our love a bridge or a bargain,
like poem after poem, like a glorious
parcel of flesh and small bones, a dream
like a memory to harbour until darkness comes.
Archer Lundy (aka Anne Archer) is a musician and poet whose poem sequence about Clara Schumann, ICH HEISSE CLARA, was published in 2021 by Alien Buddha Press. Her recent poetry also appears in LEAP (A League of Canadian Poets Chapbook), in BALM: An Anthology (Ravens Quoth Press), The Raven's Perch, In The Mood Magazine, The Fiery Scribe Review, Sledgehammer Lit, Autumn Sky Poetry, Entropy Magazine, and The Eunoia Review.
World Apart
The poet believes that we are the children of this earth, and we are all shackled by an unforgiving and relentless Father Time. We need to be the start of the change we want in the world. This is the gift we can leave for the future generations.
I live in a world apart
And still feel the pain
of people wishing for change
who live a world apart
Cause’ we’re all—a part
of this world
I never want to see another hurt
We’re all children of Mother Earth
We all answer to Father Time
My brothers –
No one can live forever
so why bother trying?
All we have is us
All we have is now
I’m tired of wondering why
So all I’m asking is how…
Long will we allow
the poison to seep into our veins
And let the brainwashing images
enter deep into our brains
That tell us we are different
And none of us are the same
So when the world’s going insane
We just shake our heads and ask,
“When’s the world going to change?”
Cause’ in our hearts
We feel that we aren’t a part of it
But things will never begin to change
If we aren’t the start of it
We may never live forever
but what we leave behind
should be a sign
of the beauty of our time
By what we did together
Fidel M. Love is a poet and writer from the Southside of Chicago, IL. He graduated and earned his BA in English & Communications from East-West University. Creative writing has always been a passion of his and an art of self expression. He's had an interest in rhyming words and putting rhymes together to tell a story. In 2012, he published his first collection of poetry titled 'Cry Through The Pen.'
A darker shade of Orange
The bountiful Indian summer is waning and giving place to the emptiness of a late Autumn. As dusk gathers, a sense of loneliness and isolation envelops the poet as he watches a lone boat on the river, drifting away from the twinkling bright lights on the shore.
a darker shade of orange
seasons end, late autumn
marina berths empty
from a bench a radio
was playing boys of summer
above gulls twisted and turned
waiting for a discarded meal
under a sign for craft beer
small lights flickered
behind windows patrons smiling
our eyes meeting for a moment
in the nearing dusk
there was no second glance
I turned back to empty docks
stared towards the river
fluorescent lights dotted the shore
a lone boat moved silently
holding the last warm winds in its sail
the odors of Indian summer dissolving
Joseph A Farina is a retired lawyer in Sarnia, Ontario, Canada. An internationally award winning poet, several of his poems have been published in Quills Canadian Poetry Magazine,The Chamber Magazine, Ascent among others. His poetry has been feature in several anthologies including Sweet Lemons: Writings with a Sicilian Accent, Canadian Italians at Table, Witness from Serengeti Press and Tamaracks: Canadian Poetry for the 21st Century . He has authored two books of poetry viz. The Cancer Chronicles and The Ghosts of Water Street .
The Impenetrable
(After Mei Yao Chen)
The poet creates an ambience of abject melancholy with his image of stars that shed ‘false light’ and the crow that circles the sky ‘searching for carrion.’ As the sun sets, the darkness of sorrow gains ground.
The sun shines on this
mountain hideaway,
it dies with the night.
An eerie breeze hardly
ruffles the river’s water.
I stand in my doorway,
and hear the melancholy cry
of an unseen bird,
like a weary penitent, seeking
forgiveness for his sins,
but to whom can he be speaking?
The stars look bright,
but they shed a false light.
A crow circles in the sky.
He’s frustrated, searching
for carrion along the shore.
He lands in a distant tree.
His cry, harsh and insistent,
continues to mock me.
George Freek is a poet and playwright living in Illinois. His poems appear in numerous Poetry Journals and Reviews. His poem 'Written At Blue Lake' was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize. His plays are published by Playscripts, Blue Moon Plays and Off The Wall Plays.
Let the Heart Sing
The poet believes that the true self will emerge from the shackles of the world in wilderness and isolation. A heartfelt cry for freedom of the spirit.
A smokescreen
The cacophonic world
Let the heart sing
In the arms of freedom.
There are layers
In the colorful world
Let us forget who we are
And sing to the winds!
The isolation
Chains the spirit in a crowd
In the wilderness
A true self breathes!
Sunita Prasad is born and brought up in the beautiful paradise called Goa on the west coast of the Indian peninsula. A teacher by profession and a poet when the moods take hold of her thoughts. Many of her poems are published in national and international anthologies; Page a Day, INKLINKS, Significant Anthology, Ah!Poetry, Family Matters, Anthesis, Persona, Umbilical Cords, Blessings among others. She loves to spend her free time reading books, painting, writing poetry, watching movies, and playing with her faithful four-legged friends.
Empty
The words on paper, encapsulate the essence of a poet’s soul. But when the soul is empty, the words refuse to come.
There’s so much emptiness
that I’m engulfed by it
sitting on a bench
that would seat three,
maybe four,
I sit in the middle
to make it feel full
but it shouts out
about the emptiness
surrounding me.
Then there’s the chairs
and the table
all empty.
And where are the words,
my words
the ones in my head
that should be seeking paper
and pouring out quick as coffee
in a crowded cafe.
They used to be there
but now,
like the cafe,
my head is empty.
Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. . She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award. She writes a blog https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com