Contents
 

 

 

Sketchbook

Villanelle

Wild Rose

She:   I can hear howling in the wind outside.
         Who are these wanderers in green and red?
He:    For the girls, a flower basket beau-tied.

         Long trailing stems generous in their stride
         A flask of ghostly moonlight amply bled.
She:   I can hear howling in the wind outside.

          Down the winding path a snake’s budding bride—
          Sharp thorns to guard this beauty’s scented bed.
He:     For the girls, a flower basket bow-tied.

She:   The rosy countenance aging provides
         Going backward, going forward in dread.
          I can hear howling in the wind outside.

She:   Swagged across hedgerows, your silken skins slide—
          Dark veins of twisted roots a song-bird's thread.
He:     For the girls, a flower basket bough-tied.

She:   On the hem of sunset you’ll see me ride
          Away from you—sadly, I forge ahead.
He:     I can hear howling in the wind outside
          For the girls, a flower basket un-tied.

          Karina Klesko, US

 

Villanelle

No Words

All that's left, a broken pine bough.
Our love was bled one snowy day.
Oh, how long have you been gone, now?

My bleeding heart found peace somehow.
Among these mangled bones, I pray.
All that's left, a broken pine bough.

No words to speak, nor thoughts allow.
This mourning veil, so thick to weigh.
Oh, how long have you been gone, now?

Violets laid on your bier, prau.
Clouds above, dull blue and gray.
All that's left, a broken pine bough.

This day I'll shed this long dark cowl.
That binds...leave me one last foray.
Oh, how long have you been gone, now?

Each in swollen beds of down.
In nature's love of those lost lay.
All that's left, a broken pine bough.
Oh, how long have you been gone, now?

Karina Klesko, US

 

Ambivalent Life 

Your body lives one life, your soul lives two.
Your soul was dragged, your body went away.
The mind must figure out just what to do.

You take a walk, the new place tries to woo
Your senses, but your inner fibers sway.
Your body lives one life, your soul lives two.

Satellite dishes, clubs and podcasts, too
Connect you with your past tense every day...
The mind must figure out just what to do.

Of the two worlds, right now, which one is true?
Which one is really yours? No one can say
Your body lives one life, your soul lives two.

Your memory's bonsai suddenly grew!
At home, December; here, eternal May!
The mind must figure out just what to do...

Come, body, soul, and toss the coin; for who
of all the migrants found a better way?
Your body lives one life, your soul lives two,
The mind must figure out just what to do.

Cristian Mocanu

 

Life Of Love

(written during my half-month 
visit to the Netherlands)

This life of love, their humanizing touch
On precious lowland tended carefully
Is how I learned of happiness in Dutch.

On fietspad or at home, from hill to hutch
These people press it gently, plain to see
Their love of life, this humanizing touch

Is not in their possessions, comfort's crutch,
But, rain or sun, the laughter, always free,
Is how I learned of happiness in Dutch.

The flowers are "zeer mooi",* homes with such
Economy of space, yet perfectly.
This love of life, their humanizing touch,

Makes triumph of all trappings, culture's clutch.
The children, raised respectful, free to be,
Is how I learned of happiness in Dutch.

At supper, heads bowed silent say so much
Of work and play, of faith and trust, to me.
This life of love, their humanizing touch,
Is how I learned of happiness in Dutch.

*"zeer mooi" means very beautiful in Dutch

Craig Tigerman

 

Dreams of the Serpent

The beauty of a fresh new day
With birdsong to fill my heart
Nighttime thoughts are kept at bay

Each day is christened with a ray
From sunset to mornings start
The beauty of a fresh new day

God's sweet wisdom done in clay
Each creation with His mark
Nighttime thoughts are kept at bay

His Breath and Thought on display
Formed at birth, then pulled apart:
The beauty of a fresh new day

Raucous ravens have their way
Each day of mourning starts
Nighttime thoughts are kept at bay

Sweet life in constant disarray
Birth at sun and death with dark
The beauty of a fresh new day
Nighttime thoughts are kept at bay

Trish Shields

 


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