THE WHITMAN TRAIL
by John Grey
I’m back in Brooklyn, walking the streets late at night; can never
escape from the fact that Walt Whitman trod these very sidewalks,
strolled up the heights, looked over the water to the bustling city beyond.
I’m thirsty for company but coffee will have to do, a small oasis
in the dark, a few tables, chairs where Walt might have sat,
a pretty girl behind the counter whose great great grandmother
could have even smiled at Whitman as she took his money.
And the customers are young, their poems spread across the table-tops,
sharing this week’s anguish with their peers.
Budding Whitmans. Wannabe Whitman& Never-will-be Whitmans.
Coffee’s from the Kona Coast Sips like short sentences. Tasty. Much depth,
Probably didn’t have the myriad of choices back in Walt’s day.
Couldn’t taste Brazil or southeast Asia or Hawaii on a whim.
Besides, back then the war was fought near, not far away in deserts.
I’m back in Brooklyn and every moment is a moment in the bard’s life.
I look in the window of a bookstore. There’s Grisham and Ludlum and Whitman.
I see a young boy reading something by the light of a third floor window.
Whitman, I’m sure. The wind picks up. To flutter the leaves of grass, no doubt.
Bio: John Grey is an Australian born poet, works as financial systems analyst. Recently published in Bryant Poetry Review, Tribeca Poetry Review and the horror anthology, “What Fears Become”with work upcoming in Potomac Review, Hurricane Review and Osiris.
Santa Ynez River
by James G. Piatt
I love the sound of rushing water
Flowing
Over ancient pebbles
In a mountain stream
Shaped by a thousand seasons
I thrill to nature's symphony
Created by
Soft Breezes
Playing songs through huge
Pine trees
I marvel at the ballet of Oak leaves
Swaying
Like green clad pixies
Dancing
With unruffled glee
Spring Time
by James G. Piatt
Silver, soundless,
My soul’s memories
Rise up in hope
Like the blue-green
Rapids of a slow
Moving stream,
Like a downy dove
Atop currents of a
Warm spring’s breeze:
Delicate fluttering leaves
Gleaming on Sycamore trees
Calm my anxious thoughts,
Nature’s healing symphony
Sings in my longing soul as
Verdant reeds with
Furry brown tops,
Sway in a balmy wind,
The wrinkled skin
Of a lazy pond ripples
In glee as my
Troubled thoughts
Are covered
With contented illusions
Scattering my fears, afar.
Bio: James earned his B.S. and M.A. from California State Polytechnic University, and his doctorate from BYU. Broken Publications published his début book of poetry, ‘The Silent Pond’ on October 27, 2012. They will release his poetry book, ‘Ancient Rhythms’ in early 2013. James was the featured poet in Word Catalyst Magazine in 2009, and Contemporary American Voices in 2010. Long Story Short selected one of his poems for the poem of the month in 2011 and 2012; Phati’tude Literary Magazine in their spring 2011 issue featured an interview with him. He has had over 320 poems published by The Greensilk Journal, Emerge Literary Journal, Long Story Short, Pens on Fire, Phati’tude Literary Magazine, Penwood Magazine, WestWard Quarterly, and many other poetry magazines and anthologies.
Gratefully Gathering
by Kim Hazelwood
Welcome Back
Spring, hope,
Bird-nest mornings.
Surreal landscape of bursting colors,
Miracle of April,
Let me gather
Tender, infant wildflowers,
Miracle,
Let me gather the
Flowering fortunes of my future,
Let me gather what
Was lost and dispersed,
Let me once again become
Well-versed.
Let me gather the
The latest and greatest voluptuous
Visions into fruition.
Let me gather,
Let me retrieve
Meet and greet
Enchantingly embrace
The woman I’m supposed to be.
Bio: Kim Hazelwood is the editor.
