Elaine Gingrich: Morning Prayers
Morning Prayers
by Elaine Gingrich, July 4, 2018
The bud of prayer
Opens slowly
Into radiant bloom
That cups the sunshine Continue reading . . . “Elaine Gingrich: Morning Prayers”
Plenty
by Phoebe Anthus
These days
the common honesty of tomorrow
rubs noticeably.
The wind is full of thoughts that thump Continue reading . . . “Phoebe Anthus: Plenty”
Kayla Eby: This Is a Marvel Under the Lord’s Sun
This is a marvel under the Lord’s sun:
by Kayla Eby
The writing of poetry is a
free thing. And
not yet claimed by the laws of
Predictability Continue reading . . . “Kayla Eby: This Is a Marvel Under the Lord’s Sun”
Our Birth
by Conrad Martin
This is the way the world begins.
This is the way the world begins.
In a blessing of darkness,
blackness heavy as memory dreaming beneath warm seas, Continue reading . . . “Conrad Martin: Our Birth”
Elaine Gingrich: Night in the Waiting Room
Night in the Waiting Room
by Elaine Gingrich
“And the evening and the morning were the first day.”
How will I know when you are free?
Already I have seen your smiling face
Sparkling in the sunlight through the trees, Continue reading . . . “Elaine Gingrich: Night in the Waiting Room”
Obi Martin: All That’s Not Enough
All That’s Not Enough
by Obi Martin
give us grace
when all that’s not enough
is more than we can find Continue reading . . . “Obi Martin: All That’s Not Enough”
Sheila J. Petre: Traveling Home from Lebanon
Traveling Home from Lebanon Sometime After Midnight
by Sheila J. Petre
Though he lay me down
To better rest, by tipping back my seat
There to right of him,
Mine is a guilty sleep. Continue reading . . . “Sheila J. Petre: Traveling Home from Lebanon”
Elaine Gingrich: After Many Anniversaries
After Many Anniversaries
Elaine Gingrich
“Love is not blind—it sees more, not less. But because it sees more, it is willing to see less.” —Rabbi Julius Gordon
She eyed him, dumb, as if she had not heard
How he had fought for honour modestly Continue reading . . . “Elaine Gingrich: After Many Anniversaries”
Broken
by Kenneth Godoy
In 100 Cambridge, time moves around me
when I talk to the voice of my mother.
The sun is flat through the slate on the city.
The smoke rises from chimneys so golden Continue reading . . . “Kenneth Godoy: Broken”
Inertia
by Paul Charles
After the party
The die-hards among us
Accidentally rendezvoused at the gas station mini market
We stood there between our cars Continue reading . . . “Paul Charles: Inertia”