Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Find Him

Millie on crutches 
in the day room 
tells Fred on 
his walker
to find him. 
It's important
says Millie
even if you're old
and can't walk.
Hire someone 
to push your 
toward him.
If you can't 
get out of bed,
hire two people 
to wheel 
your gurney
toward him.
It's too late 
if you hire 
ten men to
carry your coffin 
toward him.
Now is the time,
and for many 
that's a problem.
They have 
too little time 
to find him.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

Monday, July 28, 2014

Heather M. Browne- Two Poems

Let Me Press
I fall
rocks pressed
into knees - embedded
I pick & flick
dirt scrubbed – imprint rubbed

I trip
against my will
over my chosen sin
against you

Not wanting to fall
onto my knees

Knees - imprinted - embedded
from the ground

Help me want your mark
remember this pain - debris

I look up
to you -  arms outstretched waiting
Raise me, Lord
from my soles
to stand  - waiting for your rain
to wash

Let me press
my palms
upon your hands
hanging from my nails
in you
driven in

Imprint me
Let me scar

"For dust you are and to dust you shall return" (Genesis 3:19)
I come and kneel to you God
Your altar before me
Sacrificing my sin for you
I drop - splay out my palms
fingers open - wide like fronds
I wait for the burn of yours
trees of provision - fruit of life
Now burning
You give and you take away
You gave and I took me away
from you
As the flame separates and breaks down
So do I, when I separate from you
I break and fall
onto my knees Lord, asking for forgiveness
Let me wear your cross
singed of life
over my mind which forgets and ignores
The fruit of sin is death - both mine
I come to you Lord
burnt and broken, dust and ash
once again nothing without you
Raise me Lord out of this flame
purify me in you
I am here and ready

Heather M. Browne is a faith-based psychotherapist and recently emerged poet, published in the Orange Room, Boston Literary Review, Page & Spine, Eunoia Review, Poetry Quarterly, Red Fez, , Electric Windmill, mad swirl. MCI just published her chapbook, We Look for Magic and Feed the Hungry.

Follow her: www.thehealedheart.net

Friday, July 18, 2014

Thomas Piekarski- A Poem

           Santa Rosalia                                   
Santa Rosalia, patron saint                       
of Monterey, her bronze statue                  
peers out over a pure azure Pacific.
Cross and bible in hand
she guides ships near and far.
She’s an Italian Christian
from the Dark Ages, obscure
to all but knowledgeable hearts.
But she’s plenty ambulant,
in fact transubstantiational
to the degree of directing
with deliberate lassitude
unsuspecting mariners
through thick and thin.

Thomas Piekarski is a former editor of the California State Poetry Quarterly. His poetry and interviews have appeared in Nimrod, Portland Review, Kestrel, Cream City Review, Poetry Salzburg, Boston Poetry Magazine, Gertrude, The Bacon Review, and many others.  He has published a travel guide, Best Choices In Northern California, and Time Lines, a book of poems. He lives in Marina, California.

Jane Blanchard- Three Poems


Back in the day I did believe
Lord Jesus once took sin away,
But now I know I was naive
Back in the day.

For still I err, to my dismay,
And Christ must grant me new reprieve
Each time I yield to Satan’s sway.

Not on this earth will I achieve
A life that does not go astray,
A concept I could not conceive
Back in the day.


all is vanity
under the sun or elsewhere
make peace with pleasure


Welcome, small one, grandchild of mine!
May all you are and do on earth
Remind you of the great design
That brought about your day of birth.

May you grow strong and wise and fine;
May work and play and rest give mirth;
May sun and moon upon you shine;
May you trust God for faith and worth.

Jane Blanchard studied English at Wake Forest before earning a doctorate from Rutgers. She currently divides her time between Augusta and Saint Simon’s Island, Georgia. Her work has appeared previously in Calvary Cross and recently in Belle Reve, Concho River Review, Mezzo Cammin, and Penwood Review.

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Monks in the Orchard Picking Peaches

Young monk 
and old monk
in the orchard
picking peaches,
sunny and plump,
ready for canning.

Carrying bushels
to the wagon cart,
the young monk 
asks the old monk 
what to look out for 
when growing old.

The old monk 
pauses and says
not much. 
Life stays the same
for the most part.
Monks work and pray
but an old monk 
works slower and 
prays faster.

But not to worry,
the old monk advises.
He admits he's 
going deaf
but that's just
an inconvenience 
since God uses 
sign language.
Peaches like these
have no need to talk.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

John W.L. Toivonen- A Poem

The Baptist in the Morning

His only agency was the silence
with which he started each morrow in the field
that rested behind his straw and earthen home.
This earth was the alter, the resting place
where his spirit stretched and contracted time.
He did not hear his wife's voice when his mind
aligned in melody with the Father.
What did he see? The silent prayer was a trance
where a purple violet flowered in the sky
to kiss John's mind. Each color became proof
that beauty was painted by the mind of God.
He was cradled by a great will knowing that
each melodious sound gathered his and each
believing soul to perfect unity.

John W. L. Toivonen published his first book of poetry, Song After a Long Campaign, in 2013. Toivonen has published his work in Atavic Poetry, Midwest Poetry Review, and Paterson Literary Review. His work will appear in the 2014 edition of Roanoke Review.

Robert Pettinger- A Poem


Go in peace
With a spirit of courage 
To a land, far away.
Adventures await, challenges lurk.
It won't be easy, it will be tough
You will laugh; you will cry. 
You may wonder, why? 
Did you come, choose to go?
 Remember your Savior
Go with your God.
He will surround you with His love 
Cover you, with His grace. 
He will not forget you 
Nor ever abandon you. 
He awaits for you to listen
Remember and learn anew 
Old and new realities 
Of Him and His creation. 
God speed, in Gods strength.
When you fall
Get back up and run
Never surrender
Only to the one
Who gave Himself for all.

Lela Marie De La Garza- A Poem

                                             ALL I SEE

Countless beauties

Beckon me:

There is joy

In all I see.



And mystery:

There is love

In all I see.


One Force brought

All this to be:

There is God

In all I see.