2010 IIii
First Literary Review
2010 IIii
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Love at dusk It was the night of red dresses. Unsheathe the minnow pail. Bait the hook. Hello and kiss me. I was ruined before I met you. Will you marry me? It's who we are; who we will become. Let's grow old together. What'll the grandchildren say? Ask SpongeBob SquarePants. Pee Wee Herman. I love you. You are a feather duster, my endless pillow. -George Spencer George Spencer lives in Ecuador part of the year. He used to paint and sculpt but began writing about 5 years ago. He started the first poetry slam in Quito. He co-produces the Thin Air Poetry Cable Show, and co-hosts the Phoenix Reading Series and the ABC No Rio Poetry Series. He is the Publisher/Editor of the hard copy/internet magazine http://faroutfurtheroutoutofsight.com/. Recent poems are in Adirondack Review, Spinozablue, Fieralingue (Italy) and Retort (Australia). |
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Casanova's Farewell - Two Views He: Why does she always have to cry when sentiment is such a bore? I'll tell another juicy lie then short...and sweet...and out the door! She: I always fall for his caress and ride him till my body's sore, then watch him leap my crumpled dress, throw shallow kisses from my door. I don't disguise my deep distress or smile like some Parisian whore, or own the truth that I suppress -- the truth is that...I just want more! -Shellie Enteen (Originally published in "Fruit of the Banyan Tree," 2009)
Shellie Enteen, RA, LMT, lives in South Carolina where she has a holistic health practice and teaches professional aromatherapy. Shellie received a BA in English Literature from New York University. Her poetry has appeared in magazines and in the collection "Fruit of the Banyan Tree", published by the Ruminators, poets of Greenville, SC. More about Shellie at http://www.astralessence.com/ |
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summer evensong
moonbeams falling on pale alabaster skin
cicadas offering their summer evening canticle
citronella candles keep mosquitoes longing for sweet crimson nectar
shadows tango across white gauze-voiled chamber
murmurs of the heart spill out of dream flow onto fever-filled lips
lovers embrace -Brenda J. Gannam Brenda J. Gannam, Arab-American poet, artist, and writer hailing from Savannah, Georgia, has been a member of the New York creative community for more than 20 years. As a student of French, Arabic, Russian, and German, Brenda is drawn to the metaphysical, spiritual, and symbolist aspects of such poets as Akhmatova, Szymborska, Verlaine, Rimbaud, Rilke, Peguy, Gibran, Rumi, Al Khoury, Masefield, McCrae, Pushkin, and Pasternak.
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Hiking Brokenback Mountain
Mountain like a stunted shadow. I carried
my field guide for wild flowers, their names—tokens
of their faces: black-eyed Susan, butterfly weed,
foxglove. The path was steep. I had to walk
slowly, catching breath, and fell behind. It took
a while for you to notice. On hikes you never talk.
You lose yourself in the grandeur of where you look;
that day—the sun filtering through the fire
of turned leaves, the outcroppings of limestone
stippling the mountainside, a hawk’s sweep. The air
was crisp with frost. I had never felt more alone
than on that mountain. I should have known better.
Nothing would be in bloom in late October.
-Jane Ellen Glasser
Jane Ellen Glasser’s poetry has appeared in numerous journals, such as Hudson Review, Southern Review, Virginia Quarterly Review, Georgia Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review and Poetry Northwest. In the past she reviewed poetry books for the Virginian-Pilot, edited poetry for the Ghent Quarterly and Lady Jane’s Miscellany, and co-founded the nonprofit arts organization New Virginia Review. A first collection of her poetry, Naming the Darkness, was issued by Road Publishers in 1991. She won the Tampa Review Prize for Poetry 2005, and her award-winning book, Light Persists, received an honorable mention in the 2007 Library of Virginia Literary Awards. Her chapbook, On the Corner of Yesterday, was recently released by Pudding House Publications. *** |
Like Being Called “Cat” That Saturday in Montreal
never before
or since. The
name like a
tongue sending
chills thru
fingers. Cat.
I felt sleek and
wild, mysterious,
able to spring
and dart, wriggle,
slide from any
cage or curl
into his skin,
press close to
whatever warmth
I needed for as
long as I did
-Lyn Lifshin
Among Lyn Lifshin's recent books: THE LICORICE DAUGHTER: MY YEAR WITH RUFFIAN, Texas Review Press and from Black Sparrow at Godine: ANOTHER WOMAN WHO LOOKS LIKE ME, PERSEPHONE, BARBARO, BALLROOM. Her Web site is http://www.lynlifshin.com/ |
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Why Women Poets Don't Need Underpants Taught early on the art of compression learned to leave the impression that the essence of any idea is suggestion
Taught to tease, to tempt, to hint at desire saying nothing directly about need, Arthur McMaster is a Pushcart Prize-nominated poet. He also writes short stories and stage plays. His poetry and fiction have appeared in Poetry East, Wisconsin Review, North American Review, and Subtropics. His poetry chapbook, Awkwardness, was recently selected by the South Carolina Arts Commission's Poetry Initiative. Having previously taught creative writing for Furman and USC Upstate, Arthur now teaches writing and literature courses at Converse College. |
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