Scath Beorh- A Poem

The Tree

 

Pierce this tomb that yearns for night

far from womb of Burning Light

seeded with Golgotha’s pain

that this flesh be born again

up from ghastly ghoulish grave

where I, languishing, have lain,

a turning, churning sordid knave

intent upon the gloom

intent to spurn now what You gave

upon the Tree, that Holy Tree,

upon that Cosmic Tragedy

that I might live; I here now give

my all, and fall upon my knee

in great concern that I yet learn

the ultimate necessity

that each moment be dire intent

of purest thought toward Your Tree.

Born in Pensacola and raised along the Gulf Coast from New Orleans to Panama City, Scáth Beorh has also lived in the South Alabama of his ancestors, Hollywood, New Orleans, Dublin, and throughout Ireland. His books include Black Fox In Thin Places, October House, Ghosts of St. Augustine, Blood: A Vampire Chronicle, Children & Other Wicked Things, Dark Sayings of Old, Pirate Lingo, and Always After Thieves Watch: Stories of Childhood & Other Fantasies. His goal as a storyteller is to ask questions rarely pondered, to speculate, to horrify, and to point listeners toward an endless eternity of forgiveness, light, and the deep things of God. Today he makes a home with his lovely and intuitive wife Ember on a treelined ‘Turn-of-the-Century’ avenue in St. Augustine, Florida.

Tendai R. Mwanaka- Two Poems

HENCE I SAY

to that blessed garden

we have to return.

one step after another

to garden Eden.

one bee to only

one flower entwined.

God from Adam's ribs

made Eve only.

only through this union

we can eat.

only through this way

we can stop this dearth.

Children, fair and young

fathers and mothers.

only this way we can

triumph over the-

vengeful, ravaging

angel of destruction.

hence i say to these

words we listen to.

WE WAIT AND WONDER

doctors have failed,

faith-healers have folded their hands.

witch-doctors cast no-lots,

prophets have shut their mouths.

tears have flown!

we now mourn and weep dry tears.

young and tender stolen.

nothing left, no tears to bleed.

we wait and wonder,

for a sign, a stop, a word from above.

BIO NOTE

VOICES FROM EXILE, a collection of poetry on Zimbabwe’s political situation and exile in South Africa was published by Lapwing publications, Northern Ireland in 2010. KEYS IN THE RIVER: Notes from a Modern Chimurenga, a novel of interlinked stories that deals with life inmodern day Zimbabwe’s soul was published by Savant books and publications, USA 2012. A book of creative non-fiction pieces, ZIMBABWE: THE BLAME GAME, was published by Langaa RPCIG (Cameroon 2013) I  was nominated for the Pushcart twice, 2008, 2010, commended for the Dalro prize 2008, work has been translated into French and Spanish. I was nominated and attended The Caine African writing workshop, 2012. From January- April 2014, I was a Mentor for 3 budding writers in CACE Africa Writivism. Published over  250 pieces of short stories, essays, memoirs, poems and photographic/visual art in over 150 magazines, journals, and anthologies in the following countries,  the USA , UK , Canada , South Africa, Zimbabwe, India , Mexico, Kenya, Cameroon, Italy , Ghana, Uganda, France , Zambia, Nigeria, Spain , Romania, Cyprus, Australia and New Zealand.  

Sierra Steinbrecher- A Poem

Triumphant

We are the Easter people, Halleluiah is our song.

We follow Jesus Christ, the only one who’s never wrong.

Though the world can try to stop us, it won’t hold us back for long.

For we are the Easter people, and our war cry is His song.


Sierra Steinbrecher is an English graduate of St. Martin’s University, lives with her parents and numerous siblings, and is currently working on a novel and developing her first poetry volume. 

JoyAnne O'Donnell- Two Poems

Gentle Jesus

Gentle lamb of kindness

you cure us 

take us in your heart

keep us free with your cross's chart

land filled with pure water

resting on a rose's altar

with a blest manger

leading us to greatest scripture

with hands of highest holy's honor.

Sharing

Sharing bread

is caring fed

with love

that pours 

from the rain

lands soil growth

from fruit prayers

that heaven our way

with God's ray. 

JoyAnne works as a caregiver. Also write essays. Paints outside to enjoy the day.

Natalie Itzhaki- A Poem

 testament

Perhaps a bird ate the breadcrumbs laid by the side of the road by the Woodcutter's children.

It isn't bad being lost in a forest where its stems has yet to fall.

Only the fruit from the Tree of Life with its glory asks that I wearily lose my branches.

I think nothing happened after the gate was finally closed and I crawled on my belly.

Would like today to emanate you all with grace.

Generically rebound my soul. Take it all –

A cinnamon stick I left in my room and its odor has yet to expire,

My words which I did not want to give back.

You can read all that I have concealed from you,

My worst works of art.

To ask my peers all that I did not wish to tell my other friends.

Take away my favorite clothes. Those which I did not want to lose in my Abstraction.

All the money that was left. If any remained.

Give away all that I've made in my vocation to those who desire it.

You can throw away all the insults I was unable to release. Along with

The keenness and the envy.

Try to forgive the moments of selfishness

Cherish the love which I was able to give,

Don't analyze to death. That line has already passed.

Give your loved ones gifts. The loneliness will scatter through homes until the end.

And about me.

Please.

Leave me over the fence.

And god will claim my soul.

short biography:

Natalie Itzhaki (1983), a native Israeli poet, has published her poems in various Israeli magazines and journals.

Natalie Has published two poetry books: "forbidden swim shore" (2010) and "after the comma, love" (2013) for her living, Natalie is a deaf children teacher and professional Israeli sign language interperter.

Testament – Natalie Itzhaki, translation (from Hebrew): Tali meirav -

Linda M. Crate- Three Poems

the great Teacher 

 

it's hard to believe the

Maker of thunder

storms and the wielder of

tsunamis and tornadoes

is also concerned

over my soul, 

but You are;

speaking to me in whispers

gently nudging me in

the way i ought to go—

You teach me 

many lessons:

forgiveness, love, patience,

compassion, self-control

among others;

and no matter how many times i fall

You are the Teacher that never

gives up,

You will always be there to help 

me to my feet—

sometimes i fight so hard against You

like an infant that fights sleep,

but in the end i find it would have been so

much easier simply to surrender

to Your will

for You have plans to prosper me

not to hurt me, 

and knowledge and wisdom i could never

hope to know.

He called us to be different 

 

we are ALL made in His image

not just the people you

like or agree with,

but especially those you don't;

everyone is your brother

and your sister

even the people that you don't

particularly understand

or care to know—

acceptance is hard, but that's our job

we are meant to love the loveless

and not to judge

to love unconditionally

just as He does;

it does not say in the Holy book simply

to love your friends but also

your enemies—

His ways are not our ways

nor can we grasp all of His wisdom or

understanding, but we can do as

He says to make this world

a better place; a vineyard full of fruit

with love that never dies

in a world starved for truth and drowning in indifference.

 

the purest light 

 

are the light

cutting through every darkness

anyone will ever step upon

in their lives,

and You are the love that we all

hope to know

unconditional and giving;

we love because You first loved us,

and i've always enjoyed giving

sometimes i get exhausted

when all people do is take,

and i wonder if that's how You feel

when people claim they love 

You, but don't give You 

everything You deserve in return—

i'm sorry, father, brother, spirit

for all the times i've failed and all the times

i'll fail You again; i'm trying to walk in

all the ways i need to

to bring honor and glory to Your name

because in a world where everything fades away

Yours is the only name that saves.

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Just the Sheep and the Goats and the Shepherd

We all know the story but who'll believe it?

Big Bang creates something from nothing 

but who struck the match is a mystery.

Another Big Bang goes off at the end

and everything becomes nothing again 

except for the sheep and the goats,

the sheep on the one side, the goats 

on the other and the goats disappear 

and the sheep follow the shepherd.

We all know the story but who'll believe it?

Not the people who moved to Mars. Just 

the sheep and the goats and the shepherd.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.