(Sept. 2001) Page 3
Donna Hill lives in British Columbia, Canada with her three sons. She has been seriously writing poetry for a few years now, drawing much of her writing style for realism from life around her, her family, and her work as a child educator. She currently is poetry editor of Erosha, an online literary journal of the erotic. Donna's poems have appeared in print issues of One Dog Press, Poems Niederngrasse, Poetry Motel and Peshekee River and have also been published by numerous literary webzines.
Her poem, "my hands write when I need them to,"
first prize in Comrades first annual poetry contest, while "the moon is a
tonight" placed seventh. Both poems are slated to appear in Comrades' upcoming
anthology, 2001. Donna's first book, Dimensional Dreams, is available through
emailing her at [email protected] or Mt. Aukum Press in CA. at
meeting of the mind|
© donna hill
was there ever enough time to
celebrate her hair?
long beach sand strands now left behind
strewn with tears of dry ice on the beauty shop floor
for lack of any other reason than eighteen weeks
of chemo therapy, to begin on Tuesday
a challenge to predestination
this gradual approach to female baldness
versus waking to a pillow overlaid with hair
home again, a meeting of the minds
while I can only
as our skins dissolve
layer by layer
feathering between love and sorrow
bidding one more goodbye
a lady in a pink jogging suit
stands at the curb.
under one arm, the blonde
wooden crutch she leans on
as if leaving something
behind. the boss she's tired of
training to be a leader, the ex
husband, deported to England
on charges of fraud, the pensive
fears of her children being
in her other hand, a hose
spring melts one silver droplet at a time,
rolls down the single lime green daffodil
stem rooted aside the urban cement door
step, looking as tenaciously out of place
as she feels. her hand on the shining
the potter's hands. no man has yet to
though still she wonders. just how much
the phone calls seemed to go well
all three and a half hours
it's not as if he
hadn't done this before
but in his younger days
before life and death of a marriage
and best friend
resorting to newspaper ads
had not been a working option
now that carnal urge had all but perched
itself on his shoulders
mischievously whispering back and forth between ears
he thought why not
after all, her voice had a certain
Lauren Hutton quality to it
that ripe simplicity
he was partial to
hopes for love at first sight
shortly after she walked through the door
find that warm tavern in my mind
familiar place, lit by memories of your faded
fluorescent pink hair
smiles and red stained fingers
when last I saw you
in our kitchen helping to slice strawberries
store our summer's yield
still can't find the right words
be opened like tattered goodbyes
instead, what jars my mind tonight
my friend, is how long those wheels
CHARLOTTE GAI MAIR
Charlotte Gai Mair is one of David Jackson's editors at Artvilla, and has designed and maintained Web pages for Elisha Porat, Charlotte's Web, Shoptillyadrop Virtual Mall, BarNone Coffeehouse.
She is a former singer-musician ; born of Irish decent family named Coughlan , February 14/49, presently residing on the lower mainland of British Columbia, Canada.
Always a fighter and very passionate by nature, she has never allowed her life's circumstances to pull her down. It is in fact lifes journeys and episodes that have inspired this writer not to give up and to make known her love of life through her writing and poetic endeavors.
In a period of three years she has written over 200 poems with almost 100 of them being published in various Antholigies, Newsletters, Newpapers and many websites in Canada, United Kingdom, Ireland and across the United States.
© Charlotte Gai Mair
Even if I see no road
I will walk
I cannot feel the road
I will talk
the tongue has ceased
I will think
again I say
when thought is gone
Thorns dig deeply at your side
Vinegar seeps into open wounds
Waves smash rocks . in persistence
For now, my daughter
On the wake, I'll ride for you
Flow and grow
Blow, blow feel the wind
Closing Flight © Charlotte Gai Mair
Riviera Paradise Drive
© Charlotte Gai Mair
*This is the poem that got me into the Stevie Ray compilation book to begin with .. his awe inspiring music piece .. Riviera Paradise .. Yes!
There's something magical
brings out a wanderlust
*The Real Deal - - Stevie Ray Vaughan
Mary Angela Nangini is the author of "Woman in Exile" (1991) and "My Ontario Beautiful" (1995), published by Mellen Poetry Press. She is also co-author of the play/musical ~With a Bang or a Whimper, which she directed and choreographed for the Tenth World Congress on Gifted and Talented Education. It was performed during the conference "Gifted Globe" at the Royal York Hotel, Toronto, in 1993. She has written a theory on The Four Phases of Being called "Being Metaphor" - A Transformative Learning Theory on Human Poetential and Its Shadow: The Phenomenon of Abundance and Its Antithesis - Entropy (unpublished 1992). The development of the metacognitive strategy called "Being Metaphor" (1989) evolved through her poetry, and which is, at its best, the language of the metaphysical: "My poetry has helped me develop this strategy through the transformation of negative energy into positive forces of learning for the celebration and renewal of personal energy. Its usefulness is to develop human potential and harness the human shadow. I have since discovered that the technique utilizes The Cosmogenetic Principle (Swimme & Barry, 1992) consisting of the three powers in the universe: auotopoeisis, differentiation and communion."
© Mary Angela Nangini
Of his body
Thrills my senses
I slip silently
Into its depths
Of his presence
Through the eyes
Of our souls
Of skin and bones
Into the centre
Of his being
the memory is slim deep
rises quickly to the surface
and sucks up energy
used up to fend off
carved in letters
called my name
and i flail
my sharpened nails
a cavernous air-hole
because its not out there
but in here
If only we knew
what we know
when we would
Being cast the blind line
makes the eye
see the lie.
I let myself drop
Into the heart of trust
Aloha, My name is Connie Marcum Wong. I have always had a love for poetry, especially after age 35. I have been a flight attendand for 31 years. I live in Hawaii with my husband Michael and our 15 year old daughter Michelle. I am inspired to write by my family and the beauty of just looking out my bedroom window in the morning. One of my favorite poets is Lord Byron.
The Aura Photo (small version shown above) was taken three years ago when I started my Aura Photography business. The green color denotes teaching, healing, and a lifestyle change, all of which I am involved in. Each color has a different meaning and tells about the physical, emotional, and spiritual well being of an individual. I find the Aura camera to be very accurate and I enjoy my second career very much, for it affords me time to write and read poetry. I have been sharing my poetry with others' since I started my own poetry club in November 1999: Poetry for Thought.
Poetry For Thought can be found at my website, A Poet's Haven.
© Connie Marcum Wong
How brightly shines your pride.
Whence your shame you keep from view,
Hidden deep inside.
Though you were born not of the womb
Your mothers golden tears
For her arms, now limbs,
All is not lost for Myrrha,
*Folklore: Well over 2,000 years before the baby Jesus received Myrrh
as a gift, it was one of the most desired and most expensive items in the
world. According to Roberta Wilson:
Pele's volcanic lava glows
In the evenings twilight hour.
A passion filled desire,
Surging with her power.
She triumphs over man
Gracefully she moves as quietly she creeps,
Sorrow has followed Pele
Her majesty and wonder
Oh lovely Maiden of the Moon
What strange powers do you posses?
For in your different phases, you surrender,
Or may steal away my happiness.
Dearest Lunar Lady...
When you fill the evening sky
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