"Artemis" - Gregory de Rocher




"Artemis" - Gregory de Rocher


At dusk she rises, ghost-like, from beyond the forest.

Ascending, slow to assume full posture
yet all the while hunting, she studies for hours
the rising tides and the restless movements of men,
before quitting her vigil.

She then regains her couch, concealing
herself, and all she observed, from the hungry eye of Apollo
and the ever-curious Morning Star.


Gregory de Rocher will be reading "Artemis" at Goetry #3, the monthly open mic held this Monday night 9 pm, at Go Bar on Prince Ave. Artemis is the Greek goddess of the hunt. The illustration is a detail of a vase, circa 470 BC, Artemis drawing her bow; the goddess wears a head band, a deer-skin shawl, and a quiver strapped across her back.

"Lovers and poems" - Shafkat Khan




"Lovers and poems" - Shafkat Khan

Maybe poems are like lovers.

That when you meet a new one,
you forget about the old one?

The tingle you feel from the novelty 
of this meeting, of this romance,
makes you oblivious to 
the thrill and depth of passion
you felt for the last.
The new expression of love
somehow makes the old
redundant, although the old still rings true.

Maybe lovers are like poems.

The new one demands that
you love her just like
you loved the previous one, if not more.
The new one demands that
you create new dreams with words
and forget the old dreams
though they also were of truth and beauty.

With you,
I can't ever know
if I am your old lover
or your new poem.


Shafkat Khan was the featured reader at this month's Word of Mouth open mic event. The illustration is by artist Fumitake Uchida.

"Heading South on a January Adventure" - Bob Ambrose




"Heading South on a January Adventure" - Bob Ambrose

In memory of Marcus Borg, and appreciation for Epworth by the Sea
Athens, Georgia
January 24, 2015

There are sullen winter spells
that settle heavy on the soul
like overcooked comfort food
on two hour naps through

half dark days, stuck
in a string of gray thirties,
when wet descends in cold
drifts; when stoic dogs

slink tail down and humans
trudge a step behind,
shoulders hunched, as both
begrudge the grim task;

when songbirds are silent
fluffballs decorating bare
branches, and muffled crows
cast about, listless. But, yes —

when the cold cloud lifts;
when morning frost makes fractal
arcs and silver whorls tag windshields;
when the sky dome glows blue again

I shall head south on a state road, past
brown fields of dog fennel when backlit
tips are tan halos behind stubble ditches
and broomsedge shoulders. I shall sail

over silhouettes of distant cattle plying
well trod pasture; beyond tin-roof sheds,
strewn about with farm machines; above
wet lawns anchored by scotch broom

and lonely oak; over ordered rows of old
pecan outside the town where Remus
broods; through the strip past Andalusia,
set apart from the way to Walmart.

I shall crest the fall line and roll the frozen
swells of an ancient seabed that stretches
out to the blue-green horizon of barren
plantations in cash-crop pine.

Will you come too? Shall we tune
our souls to a mellow song? Can we
‘Let it Be’ ‘Sweet Baby James’ down
‘The Long and Winding Road’ again?

So calm we are energized by Enya.
So centered we bless the car that cuts
us off and love the occupied driver
inside. For there are kind winter

spells, and we are heading south,
cutting through noon shadows
to a land of graybeard and ghosts,
confluence of earth and sky, river

and sea, where brackish channels
braid marsh and mudbank, porpoise
feed the peaceful waters, and mist
mingles with heaven at dawn.

"In sorrow of Victor" - Shafkat Khan



"In sorrow of Victor" - Shafkat Khan


The first flowers of spring
wish for breaking winter's shackle.
I, then, step outside
for a lonely walk,
wishing for your touch.
much as the spring's warmth
surrounds me.
I want to sing of you
as the warblers sing of spring.
Unlike theirs,
my song remains unsung.


The first colors of fall
brings respite from summer's burn.
The cool air and the blue sky
framed by rainbow leaves
make me wish of your vibrance.
Inside me,
the drought of summer singes
and the drab of winter reigns.
Walking in the hues of fall,
I, a blank canvas,
wish of your colors.

--

You surround me,
not touching.
You paint around me,
not coloring.
I walk towards you
in the fall,
in the spring,
with tears dark,
and a mourning song unsung.



Shafkat is tonight's featured reader at the monthly Word of Mouth open mic, upstairs at The Globe beginning at 8 p.m. "In sorrow of Victor" was inspired by "Demain dès l'aube" by Victor Hugo (1802-1885), considered one of the greatest and best known French writers. More oShafkat's poetry can be found on his website.