Tuesday, January 26, 2016

RE / VERSE Fourth Anniversary Post: BLUE IS A FUGITIVE COLOR

photoart: sharon auberle

by Sharon Auberle

It is the color of ambiguous depth,
of the heavens and of the abyss at once…
            ~  Alexander Theroux

Do you remember that night
I said I would have to leave?

Under a blue moon
in Clem & Ursie's Bar

you asked would I walk toward
something      or away
            and I said a horizon

is what I need, 
a road rising to meet me.   

Dante's 9th Circle of Hell isn't fire
but ice     
            yet blue light

has the energy to escape ice
and remain visible.

            Too often invisible to you I became     

is a fugitive color  
fades quicker than any other.

~ first published in Peninsula Pulse

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

The Raven's Croak

photo: ralph murre

The Raven’s Croak
by Tom Davis

Hunched down beside a woodpile, ebony,
In shadows from the cedars overhead,
The raven blinked black eyes, its dishabille
Of feathers rustling, stirring up a dread
So dark it seemed as if it called up from the dead
White wisps of spirits buried in the snow.
The raven hopped on top the woodpile, head
Cocked, moving like a dancer in a show,
A shadow’s shadow pantomiming woe.

Dawn’s darkness deepened as the raven leaped
Into the sky and hovered as the glow
Of blood-light saturated earth and seeped
Into the raven’s eyes, its dance undone
Until its beak croaked out the blazing sun.

~ first published in An Ariel Anthology (Ariel Woods Books)

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

The Healer

photo: ralph murre

The Healer
by Ethel Mortenson Davis

You have been yourself at the edge of the Deep Canyon and have come back unharmed.  ~ An Elder of the San Juan Pueblo

I was invisible.  ~ An Asiatic Eskimo

In the snowy canyons
you came to me
as an eagle
and whispered
(in almost audible sounds)
"the key to the secret
of healing. . ."

For my wounds
had gone beyond wounds
and had festered
into deep holes
in my sides,
and gangrene had set in,

but, in a whisper,
you came and said,
"you have the keys within you.
You are the stars
in the starry night.
You are the source
at the mouth of rivers.
You have the medicine
to heal
already in your bones."

And my wounds became
as faint as the sound
of feathers,
as pale as the ringed moon.

And the healer
came to me
in the face of the wolf.
She came
and nodded to me
with her deep intelligence,
and her eyes told me,
"your spirit is strength.
Your force is as great
as volcanoes,
for your goodness prevails
over the dark;
your goodness
has brought you out
of the deep canyon."

And again the healer
came to me.
This time as a bear,
a joyous white bear
with great white paws,
and she told me,
"you were invisible,
but now I see you.
You have gone
to the edge of the great canyon
but have come back

"And now your laughter
will become
as mountainous as thunder,
and your tears
will be the tears of glory!"

I tell you.
I have put my ear
to the great Earth
and have felt your presence.

~ previously published in Poetry Cha Cha and in
    I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico

Sunday, January 10, 2016

Sahara Blues X

artwork: ralph murre

Sahara Blues X
by Olajide vincent Ajise

We live in a war zone,
Mars’ solitary confinement,
where demons wearing turbans
perform ablutions
with cooked-blood of cherubs.

Here, adrenaline rushes
at the herald of shrapnel;
sights feed on blood-red corpses. Sadism.

We are now a sod
living under the canopy of grisliness;
a hamlet experiencing hell on earth,

For the mitochondrion of our glory
has been pilfered by bombs
and fear now writes epitaphs
on the nudity of our streets.

Help us, please.

~ first published in The Poet Community

Friday, January 8, 2016

Writer's Trap

artwork: ralph murre

Writer’s Trap
by Mary Bone

I should be cleaning house,
But I sit down to write a thought.
My only audience, a mouse.
The one I haven’t caught.

~ first published in Lucidity, A Journal of Verse (1994)

Sunday, January 3, 2016

Watching Snow

artwork: william marr

Watching Snow
by William Marr

As the footprints in the snow
get deeper and deeper
they become harder and harder
to comprehend

Falling on the feverish face of
a homesick boy
the snow melts and turns into
a warm tropical shower

A sudden toll
of the steeple bell
shakes down
the snow
from the Cross

~ previously published in Autumn Window (Arbor Hill Press) and Between Heaven and Earth (PublishAmerica)