Late April Walk
by Lois Read
Bright blue bits of sky
assert themselves
through soft spring scrim
bell the morning
ultra-high frequency sound
bring poets
and painters
to their knees
Emptiness with edges
sky shapes shift
from ground to figure
firmament in focus
trill notes as pure as water
like angels
playing piccolos
to celebrate the day.
Bio: Lois Read, retired art teacher and painter turned poet, has produced three chapbooks of poems with watercolors and two collections of poetry. She has had poems in The Conneticut River Review and the Poetry of Yoga(vol.2), and won honorable mention in the Maria Faust sonnet contest two years ago. Her poem 'Bones" was judged fifteenth out of 4000 entries in the Writer's Digest Poetry contest in 2013. Read lives in Conneticut and can be reached at loisfay@sbcglobal.net
Create, Creator
by Kim Hazelwood
Coming to you
From the Grand Hotel
In the Romance Room
Of The Realized Soul.
Create, Creator~
Palette Sturdy
Ink so smooth,
Strings tuned tight
Mornings Golden.
A serious sun ray full of inspiration,
Slipping…into a methodical madness so fine.
A splash, a brush-stroke,
Zooming in-
It’s who you are.
And there you see it~
A Blue so true
To the Hills with Heartbreak.
Glides a flowing brush,
A Song so Sweet
To the hills with Soul Speak,
Glides a glowing brush.
Dreaming a river, you gasp,
How can God not be here?
Hush!
There’s Lush!
With nothing to tweak.
Create, Creator
Done in with ink pen,
Words of Wisteria
Watchful of their power
Cautious of what they carry,
As they completely carry away,
Happy Harp of a guitar,
Ethereal cathedral,
A Choir full of Chords,
The Vibration of Love,
Has never resonated like this.
Give me what you’ve got,
Even a smidgeon.
I’ll run the whole gambit giving you my heart’s rendition.
I am a rippling, river roaming
Carving in time
What brings me Joy.
Of Brushstrokes and Rhymes
Cymbals and Chimes,
Sweet, heartflowing ideas in lost time,
What is time?
Joy feeds no timepiece.
Rollicking thunderous thoughts
Bursting a billion birdsongs
Creations are everywhere,
Charming a chase,
Craving a constant calibration of colors.
Dance me into a dazzling Daylily,
Sing me into the sage of scarlet
Laugh me into the landscape of lavender
Blow me a kiss from a bluebonnet.
Or just the Candlelit choices in casseroles and
Centerpieces,
Glides a flowing brush
Or the way you place your African Violets
On the shelf
Just so.
Wherever you go, Art is there.
Create, Creator~
Building a brand new life
Bravely bowled over,
Bounces a brimming heart.
Walking down memory lane
With your soul all along,
Getting back to the original version
For so very, very long.
Bio: Kim Hazelwood is the editor of this litzine and the author of CoyoteBat!.
A Screen Porch Morning
by
Linda Thornton Peterson
It's one of those mornings.
The breeze is fluffing the leaves of the trees
that shade my room.
The cool air wafts through my open window.
I inhale quickly, deeply, filling myself.
A familiar feeling is evoked.
Familiar—like that of a summer morn
on a shaded screen porch.
Outside my window, green leaves
are blue-black in shade.
Those beyond, painted yellow by the sun.
The breeze constantly shifts the leaves, first up, then down,
then still—and silent, gaining energy.
Like a dancer waiting offstage—to enter again and again.
A gust tousles the leaves
like a dad tousles his little boy’s curly locks.
A breeze as comforting as that—and
A screen porch morning.
Bio: Linda Thornton Peterson, a Louisiana native, retired from Northern Illinois University as a psychotherapist and teacher. Seven of her short stories and two poems have appeared in The Greensilk Journal. Poetry publications include: The Hanging Moss Journal, the Western State Colorado University Journal and a Northern Illinois University Journal. She won an NIU faculty poetry award and is a founding member of two DeKalb writers’ groups. As a former art teacher and stringer photographer with the Associated Press, she continues to exhibit her art as well as write.
