-
The Past - Rose Kowaliw
Vesta - Rose Kowaliw
Season-Cycle, 2010 - Art Bupkis
Midnight Comes - Sarah Williams
The Past
Rose Kowaliw
Rose Kowaliw
Scented memories…
Lavender sachets tucked in
forgotten places.
Lavender sachets tucked in
forgotten places.
Vesta
Rose Kowaliw
Rose Kowaliw
In the empty room,
a rocking chair creaks slowly
back and forth in time.
a rocking chair creaks slowly
back and forth in time.
Rose Kowaliw lives in New Hampshire and enjoys creating original digital art as well as writing Haiku. She was accepted for a stay at the Dorset Writer's Colony in Vermont, and her poetry has been published in Weaving Women's' Words, Wild Minds, The Northern New England Review, The Keene Sentinel, and the New Hampshire Troubadour. She was a recipient of the Golden Poet Award. Her art has been exhibited throughout New Hampshire and New York.
Season-Cycle, 2010
Art Bupkis
Art Bupkis
SPRING: Promenade
A neighbor strolls by;
My friends and I smile & wave.
(What a bitch she is.)
SUMMER: My Old Cat
'cross a hot tin roof,
“Basho-san”, just watching crows—
August afternoon.
FALL: Not Asleep
Chirping all night long,
Some house cricket keeps me up.
I must scold my cat.
WINTER: Time for Contemplation
Moon watching through snow,
Walking in a Zen garden
I fall on my ass.
A neighbor strolls by;
My friends and I smile & wave.
(What a bitch she is.)
SUMMER: My Old Cat
'cross a hot tin roof,
“Basho-san”, just watching crows—
August afternoon.
FALL: Not Asleep
Chirping all night long,
Some house cricket keeps me up.
I must scold my cat.
WINTER: Time for Contemplation
Moon watching through snow,
Walking in a Zen garden
I fall on my ass.
Art Bupkis is a literary guardian of L. R. Baxter, a professor at the University of Florida.
Midnight Comes
Sarah Williams
Sarah Williams
Parting clouds hasten
the charcoal embrace of night—
Celestial dreams.
the charcoal embrace of night—
Celestial dreams.
Sarah Williams resides and writes on the beautiful Central Coast of California. Though she would enjoy spending all of her time gaining inspiration from the call of the ocean and the whisperings of the nearby mountains and using this to pen new poetry, she makes time to be a professional freelance editor and ghostwriter, as well as dabbles with screenplays. Sarah’s work can be found in previous issues of Boston Literary, as well as Vivid Literary Journal. She is also currently working on a collection of poetry that she hopes will eventually be stored on bookshelves rather than just on her hard drive.
