Rain Poem
      by Carolyn Wolfe

I dream of rain

of the falling down, laughing, vibrant energy of water

on my hair, on my skin, falling down my cheeks

like happy tears.

I dream of rain

an everyday miracle

a gift to the crops

to the land,

to the sea

and to me.

I follow the laughter of water in my dreams

and wake, to the wonder of thunder...

 

Bio: Carolyn Wolfe is a free-lance writer, published poet, and author of eight books, which range from poetry to  fantasy and includes children's literature. Her body of work includes writing articles for newspapers and newsletters,  and hosting poetry events in the Winchester area. Her books include two poetry books "Notes From The Shadow Self" and "WhenThe Moon Speaks", a collection of original light fantasy stories titled "The Moonsparrow Collection" and four children's books "The Bedtime Of The Sky and Other Sleepy-Bye Stories", The Unhappy Little Dragon Lessons Begin" and "The Unhappy Little Dragon, Lessons Learned". Her newest children's  book "The Drowsy House" is now available on Amazon.com Kindle. Wolfe also has written a novella  for adult readership "Blade's Magic, full of magic and romance. Carolyn Wolfe lives in Winchester VA with her Husband Scott and many animal companions. Please visit her website athttp://www.whenthemoonspeaks.com/. 

 

 

Escape from Routine

        by Eira Needham

Scents of seaweed candles mingle
with grilling fish fingers;
I drift away …

The hushed breeze
brushes my face
as heat haze shimmers.
Wafts of tasty barbecue plaice
spice the salty air.

I glance at seaside pictures
pinned to my memo board.

Pasty bodies recline on
boldly striped beach chairs
or sand spattered towels,
basted and ready to roast,

Distant boat sails tilt;
people crowd the blue, bobbing,
its undulating hum broken
by seagull’s chuckling uk uk uk.

Drumming a constant rhythm,
the washer tumbles dolphin decked towels
with blue and red-spotted swimwear.

On top a Disney bucket holds seaweed
for grandma’s aching feet.

We criss-cross dunes, exploring,
sand scratches between toes;
shells and pebbles collected
in a Mickey Mouse bucket.

Swollen feet cool,
treading seaweed carpets;
I giggle as tiddler’s fins tickle my toes.
Soaking up the ambiance -
I float back to children’s whispers,

making shell pictures for grandparents,
pebble paper weights are painted
for friend’s Christmas presents.

I smell fish fingers - almost burning!
“Tea’s ready kids.”

 

Bio: Eira Needham is a retired teacher, living in Birmingham, UK. Her poetry is eclectic and has been published in print and online. Recent and forthcoming publications are in Voices From The Web 2013-2014, Cyclamens and Swords and The Tower Journal. She has also been "Featured Writer" in WestWard Quarterly.

 

 

 

Across Canada

    by David Simms

 

Your words escaped me,

Edmonton-based Genevieve

originally from Newfoundland,

unknown phantom cousin,

 

surname complicit.

I looked

but looked in vain

throughout the publication

 

(it listing you among "contributors")

for a poem by you, was done

looking when the odd-looking

cover caught my eye.

 

It had been drawn by you,

that nearly eerie illustration

I'd overlooked. "A Meeting

with Oneself" you called it

 

and, having called it,

presumably moved on,

Rubaiyat-like. But not

beyond where we might meet

 

ourselves on some odd day

in sunshine or in fantasy.

Perhaps halfway, in Toronto,

say. Between our lines.

 

Bio:  David Simms is the oldest living poet in Berryville, Virginia. He also writes novels, one and a half of them: a whole "Stars of Axuncanny" from a university press and a half in parts in various journals including this one.