Month: October 2016

Allison Grayhurst – Four Poems

It is a transient intimacy with truth, when the layers of life are exposed, revealed in a completed majesty. It is a fleeting experience, a halt in existence that our temporal selves cannot maintain. It arrives unexpectedly, when looking at the face of a child, an old person’s hands, an animal’s tenderness to another outside of its kind.

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Shelly Blankman – Japanese Tea Garden

It is a sense of peace. It is feeling my hair getting messed up in the wind at the beach. It is the sputtering of raindrops on a sunny day. It is the crackling of a fire. It is being at the zoo wrapped in the magnificence of animals whose spirits are entwined with mine. It is the childish delight of snowflakes on my tongue.

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Hedy Habra – Three Poems

Beauty lies in the process of creation; it is a flux, a constant quest for self-recreation as we project our versions of memory and aesthetic emotions on canvas or paper with a brush or a pen. Our perception of beauty is subjective but becomes more meaningful once shared, and once shared, it doesn’t belong to us anymore, the way a finished poem no longer pertains to its author.

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Robert Boucheron – Three Nourishments

Without our consent, the words we read resound in our heads. A moment comes when that inner sound—rhythm, cadence, alliteration, long and short vowels—rings perfectly true and wrings meaning from the words. Then the book feels light in our hands. We rise on an incoming tide.

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Stephen Mead – Five Poems

I find it beautiful when I can still turn my attention/inspiration elsewhere, be free to share and celebrate what is bliss in the world, or what is gentleness; what is itself so much according to the nature of its essence as to release us, remind us of, as, Anne Sexton wrote, the birds making sense of air.

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Emily Strauss – Three Poems

We depend on poetry’s existence even if we don’t often encounter it, just as we should depend on the existence of natural wilderness even if we are never able to visit it in person. Its mere presence suffices to make us aware that life and the world are not all mundane, and can be viewed in a special lens when we need an extra push of the soul.

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LeighAnna Schesser – Five Poems

Beauty is, perhaps, the supreme liminal space: the point of contact between who we used to be and who we could become; between profane and sacred, temporal and eternal, human and divine. Of the myriad ways to live out this calling, I have come to understand my own path as an aesthetic of joy, where is joy understood as something deeper and broader than mere pleasure, independent of temporary fulfillments.

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Lorette C. Luzajic – Four Peacocks

These are the things I contemplated as I walked among the peacocks at the Museo Dolores Olmeda estate grounds in Mexico City, taking pictures. I was surrounded by unspeakable beauty, by the kind of bird who coyly looked me in the eye and then spread out his fan of a tail for me in all its glory.

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Diana Raab – Five Poems

In Buddhism texts, there’s often a reference to the beauty of nature—the trees, the flowers, the mountains, and the animals. The lotus, which is often seen in Buddhist realms, is one of the most beautiful flowers. The way it grows in the mud and erupts into a spectacular living thing is phenomenal.

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Armine Kotin Mortimer – Glenn Gould – Excerpt from Sollers

Separate yourself, take your distance, act as though you are not playing, as though you are not even hearing yourself. The error consists in believing that one is doing what one is doing when doing it. Above all, don’t attempt to attain silence or empty space. That is a pose. On the contrary, play as if you were in the middle of the street, at the heart of the racket…

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Douglas Cole – Fukushima

… Beauty is the back door with white spider webs in the corners I open and see the sun over that high grass and I am only three and lift my arms to that warm light thinking that’s where I came from. Beauty is a face in a shroud in a cloud in a crowded market, a deaf-mute handing me a pamphlet that says Blessed are the Thankful as I’m picking out an avocado.

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Uche Ogbuji – Four Poems

Beauty works up desire. Looking down an aspen valley in color from a mountain pass, one cannot hope to possess what they see, but they are compelled to return. When a poem lets beauty in at the eye–like love in the Yeats’s Drinking Song–or by the ear, the perceiver gains the pleasure of wonder that slowly sweeps through them, ever elusive.

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Fabrice Poussin – Five Photographs

Fabrice Poussin – Five Photographs Sleeping Storm  World Afire   Weary   Rebirth    Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University, Rome, Georgia. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and more than a dozen other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Magazine and more than sixty other publications. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new...

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