New Year's Eve 2-for-1 Special

photoart: ralph murre

First

by Peggy Trojan

New Year's Eve

nine days before I was twelve

Tommy, visiting next door

came to visit me, baby sitting.

At midnight

he sat on the arm of the chair

and leaned to kiss me.

That's all.

No embrace,

no meaningless words.

Nearly seventy years later

I remember our surprise,

the silence,

how warm his lips were

and how soft.

~ first published in Boston Literary Magazine

photoart: ralph murre

REVELRY

by Bobbie Krinsky

Heading out under a moon

as luminous as last year’s Solstice,

my old dog and I ramble

side--by--side 

into the raw country wind:

Two old bitches taking  a stroll

beneath the stars,

minutes before New Years  Eve,   2003.

While I plunge through snow hushed  fields

flooded with silver, 

my girl prances like a pup

and paws through shadows

of winter’s trees splayed across  midnight’s

ice blue light.

 ~ first published in The Wisconsin Poets’ Calendar

Slowed-down Christmas

photo: ralph murre

Slowed-down Christmas

by Patricia Wellingham - Jones   

This year

   due to ‘circumstances

beyond our control’

   Christmas is simpler than ever

Decorations four

   a tiny tree with lights and Santas

my sister’s ancient ribbon wreath

   nesting Santas lined up on the mantel

and the big red bow from the door

   decks your new walker

Presents few

   things we can eat or drink

use up in six weeks

   and never dust

Friends seldom

   but cherished

especially when

   they don’t stay too long

Old friends and the big dinner

   packaged or boxed or potluck

but the wine flows

   candles flicker

love swoops around the room

   like doves with wings of angel hair

and light

~ previously published in Lunarosity (2006)

This Family Called Apple

detail: apple family II: georgia o'keeffe

This Family Called Apple

by M.J. Iuppa

                            after Georgia O’Keeffe’s painting Apple Family–2

Plumped up and pinched,

rosy-cheeks of a kind,

ample curves, breasts

and buttocks nestled

side by side, silent

picture of health,

not knowing

what could be growing

wrong on the inside. When

lost in thought in the orchard

I plucked  their glossy bodies–

let them fall into my canvas

apron– ignoring your warnings–

invisible bruises show up after

the snap of leaf and stem. Now

which will go first?  Taut

skin resists, shines

against the bite

that changed paradise–

sudden waters, flesh, seeds,

unlocked stars– the secrets

of many in this chaste household.

~ first published in Language of Color: Writers Respond to the Paintings of Georgia O’Keeffe (Big Pencil Press)

Lunch in the Hudson Bay Cafeteria

artwork: ralph murre

Lunch in the Hudson Bay Cafeteria

by Don Schaeffer

Built at a time when air was cheap

it has more space than it needs.

Solemn echoes surround the flags and

matrons dressed in white

employed to cook and mother.

A large symbolic paddle wheel

clatters comically on its ancient motor

beside a pale antique diorama of the river.

We bring trays

of veal and trifle.

The ceiling is a formalized caprice

like a stage set in animated fantasy,

with ceremonious lamps somehow made friendly

laughing to themselves as they sprout

from roots in the broken clouds.

~ first published in Lily Literary Review (2006)

ALL THE DAYS ARE

digital photoart: ralph murre

ALL THE DAYS ARE

by Ronald Baatz

All the days are cold and short

like rows and rows of possum teeth.

The house is empty, even the

mountain air refuses to come in,

afraid of the stillness.

I can sit at the kitchen table for hours.

Its white paint may be chipping

but the large vein running through

the middle of my forehead is firm.

I feel it at my fingertips as I

work on a crossword puzzle

having no squares.

It’s good to know

a pack of hunting dogs

was once baffled by

the stream out back.

                        ~ first published in Wormwood Review 1973