Monday, January 26, 2009

Don Kingfisher Campbell


sun in the sky
filtered through bands
of blue and white

land all a round
mountains frame (surround)
rock strewn plain

worshippers gather
citizens of earth
stand with branches

outstretched take
in periodic warmth
between collected tears

even rocks seem
to enjoy the hours
of light reflection

(effortlessly provide
shadows for respite
from constant brilliance)

through the unseen
companion who fills
space around us

we grow up and die
reseed the soil keep
the ceremony going
Jeffry Jensen


I wanted lawn to here and
rose bushes to there and
ivy in the corner to
cover the neighbor's wall
where it was more holes
than sturdy structure.
A perfect order was within
my grasp if only I were made of
the sterner stuff necessary to
control a backyard with
living things needing to be
trimmed on a Tuesday and
fed on alternate Fridays.
From my porch, I could imagine
a satisfactory resolution fit for
the prince of a man that I saw
myself as after a dry martini or two.
But in the blink of a dying
bloom, I was presented with
enough ivy to give cover to
generations of mice and all of
the nocturnal beetles from
across the vast divide.
My perfect order went missing in
action and left me with
lawn somewhere and rose bushes
nowhere to be found and ivy
everywhere in between the
devil and the deep dark chaos
that seems to drive all of creation.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Michelle Angelini


She sees its mini-world
with disinterest
as beauty
between poles of pain

Birds float in its life-blood
and trees drink
springing from
its flowing streams

Veins rise and fall
and depend on
earth's weeping

It calls each night in her dreams
she does not answer
but identifies
with its slow death

She wishes it to flow
as a vigorous ecosystem
fed nothing to clog the arteries
respected by those who use it

Monday, January 12, 2009

Scott C. Kaestner


it is winter
in my youth
but not here


crystal coast
warm breezes
cool waves

sunshine exodus
from reality

as the world turns,
as the world burns

nothing else to do
except step
into liquid
and swim

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Sharmagne Leland-St.John


There were dry red days.
Devoid of clouds.
Devoid of breeze.
Sound bruised
My burning bones.
Dirt cracked my hands
And caked my cheeks
No buds on limbs of trees
No birds on branches
No hope of rain
Scrawny chickens
Kicked up dust
Scratching for food
That wasn't there.
In the stifling, stillness
Of the scorched night
We dreamt
Of cool oases
Tropical isles
Emerald bays
Not these dry red days

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Katherine Norland


The moist earth squishes between my toes;
After rainfall, sneak out barefoot, no one knows.
This is a place of calm, a place that I can connect
To this earth I take for granted and I always expect.

Itʼs not that it desires for us to give back;
One thing it doesnʼt deserve our constant attack.
We spill toxic waste and pull up all its plant and trees;
And then complain about the ozone and the air we breathe.

Earth can replenish itself, it has for thousands of years;
But rain that once could be drunk, is now acid rain tears.
Why arenʼt we better stewards of what the Creator gave;
Does every mountain, valley and forest need to be paved?

God made this earth, nature and animals to enjoy
That I donʼt believe He intended for us to blatantly destroy.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Alice Pero


I am writing the white of the birch
as she leans upward toward blue
My eye tracing words where her leaves touch color,
my ears finding sound in her transparent skin
Sky cannot sing but my fingers can
A tune clear and clean, sung to crinkled bark,
thin branches waving in the breeze,
patterns of etched sound, reach out,
Only I can hear, sight and meaning together
Birch finds sky, I sketch the mute greeting,
Somewhere, an invisible muse, laughing
Luis Campos


--...we interrupt
one disaster
to bring you
another one:

--the great
Chan-Tung dam
in China
has collapsed...
as many as
300,000 people
are feared dead!

--and now,
back to
of Our Lives."