Donny Barilla, born in Dallas, Texas, weaves around common themes, such as: mythology, nature, human intimacy, and theology. Writing on a daily basis, he engages in the beautiful landscapes that surround him in his home of Pennsylvania. He currently works on his next book and has published in numerous journals and magazines. Shades of Green Dampness thickened throughout the air, climbing moisture yet settling upon the grassy spread. Weeds and ancient mulch, soaked from last year, unleashed a yawning thirst. ~ The nave of the stream, coiled in a sapped and slippery bedded cove hosted each pebble and jagged rock as I tossed them to the their origin, the threading waters. When the wind surmounted mints, I paused and smiled as the trembling breeze fumbled upon my ash gray beard. ~ Following the curve of the creek, I stood close to the evergreen, the spruce, and pine. I smiled as the trees shook their shades of green. A gathering of pine needles grew so inviting. I lay softly and slept. By Lakeside Winds slope across my face and dancing flannel. Swiftly, I embrace the arms of a deafened January, which groans through the death of tree branches and speaks with the crinkling parchments of every fallen leaf. ~ I gently open my mouth and gather the sobbing trickle of the falling snow. The lake was a brick of ice. I stood on frozen waters edge and watched the oldest oak leaf scurry across surface, then stick so snug to rock and rotting log. ~ By evening, pinks bleed to purples and the Winter fattens for a heavy birth. I lean as a trellis against each coughing tree. The limbs and twigs flutter and groom with powdery white. Scent of Autumn Scampering across the leafy earth, the tan breasted bird snatched a seed. I stood by and watched the twigs roll in the rippling waves, a high crest of capped waves. Suddenly, the soft, cool wind dredged. I could taste the flavors of Autumn which quicken at my face and burning ears. ~ Looking upon the kneeling clouds sunk from the passing skyline, I stood and witnessed the cabins stand like sentinels of lakes edge guarding the soft dome and sulking against the maze of the patterned forest. ~ Here, the giggling leaves, so robust, drifted across the chilled icy water. Hearing her voice, the smoothest of words tendered across the volleying winds. I sank my teeth to the saucy flesh of Autumn, disrobing upon the dredge of the crackling branches, these foams and froths sank to the carpets of gathered leaves. Milk The rain sliced through the sky.
Leaves cupped, gathered the tender juice pocketed in the upturned veins. Within the farmhouse, the young mother removed her breast. Puckering the pulps during the dance of this Summers breach and fracture, the crimp of the infant sulked in this treasure. ~ Morning. She plucked the basil, thyme. Mud gathered about her ankle and heel. Sauces hung to the sliver of each grass blade. Sipping a ceramic mug of bristling coffee, she found a walnut, caked in the clays of a forgotten earth. Stirring within her, she felt her milks stir.
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Fritz Eifrig has been writing poems on and off for almost 40 years. His work has appeared in Poetry Quarterly, The Bookends Review, The Hiram Poetry Review, and Foxglove Journal. He lives and works in Chicago, Illinois. the inquiry of memorysunlight spins within cold eddies flows over rocks feathers along the drowsy sand, its bright fingers verge on lurking belly, back, and fins; darting away, ungrasped, dark speckled scales wink reproach. inside this unsteady gleam evanescent water scarps are caught then lost, a shifting window flashing clear and true then gone. telegramrain in early morning before the sun. down roof and walls talking now through earth. to join, to make a course connecting across land and time and into memories untended and unguarded-- discovers passage through silted causeways of the heart. dreamed messages pass away, disappearing, fog in garden shade, trickling water the only sign of something said. fermataleaves lie dreaming in the grass and across the street, brushing broken bottles, colors mute in morning light. west wind cuts among them, cold whispers taunt: what once was. they turn and twist but will not wake-- a season of sleep, a time to die. crow on a wire calls a hole into the horizon. a chill across my jacket. what will the wind tell me? crossing wabash at illinoispause at street-side, curb, stairs, and bridges rise beside a concrete bounded river. taillights crest curves, kissed in pale morning starshine; somewhere birds must be waking. recall the touch of light across red hills and bluegreen pine, the smell of dew and hide, wet seeds and stone. shining feather caught on bark, gleam of white antler point, my dark hair rolling in the young sky. would that those footsteps had held their shape, clear trails through sleepy grasses where I passed, eager then and whole. old songs float like piñon smoke crowding this gray march morning with the fluttering of another time. before an ebbingwe were young and high, climbing
beneath a cavern of stars, dune crest and its scrub brushing feet and fingertips. we sat and watched the fishermen work for smelt, heavy rubber waders sounding through the breakers, slow work of nets glittering full of scales and hooks. a rising stillness wrapped our heads and muffled time’s insistence, yet all around us endless motion, the tone of eons thrumming from deep below and back again, little bubbling secrets rushing out across the dark wet sand. that was summer’s dawning, witness to a subtle tide, under slow curves of moonlight, the shapes of our faces looking east. Saloni Kaul, author and poet, was first published at the age of ten and has been in print since on four continents. As critic and columnist Saloni has enjoyed forty one years of being published. Saloni Kaul's first volume, a fifty poem collection was published in the USA in 2009. Subsequent volumes include Universal One and Essentials All. Most recent Saloni Kaul poetic production has been published in Misty Mountain Review, Mad Swirl (own poetry page) , FIVE Poetry, The Penwood Review, Mantid Magazine, Blue Pepper, Sentinel Literary Quarterly, Cabildo Quarterly, AJI Magazine, Scarlet Leaf Review, River Poets Journal, Belle Rêve Literary Journal ,Taj Mahal Review, Verbal Art, Poetry Pacific, Ink Sweat And Tears, Military Experience And The Arts (As You Were : The Military Review), Blueline , The City, OVI MAgazine and Five 2 One Journal . Upcoming publication acceptances include The Penwood Review, Scarlet Leaf Review , Cabildo Quarterly, The City and Five 2 One Journal SONNET MISCELLANY |
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