Saturday, May 31, 2014

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, Sc├íth 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.
 

Friday, May 30, 2014

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.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

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.