Sanghyang

Breeze
Teases
Undulates
Sonorously
Slips her zephyr hips
Through gently shackled canes
Of dried Balinese bamboo
Pretends to ignore their sultry
Vibrations as she releases their
Island rhythms to dance through my garden.

COMMENTS:  Teases the imagination with sensational images and fresh language.  Sings with excellent alliteration throughout.  Vivid sensuous picture of life in the tropics.  If there was ever an example of "poetry in motion", this is it, inviting the reader to read again and again.   Sanghyang is a traditional Balinese dance performed by young girl performers who are exotically made up to look much older. Their highly stylized gestures during the dance suggest wisdom beyond their years.  This Sanghyang sinuously slips from syllable to syllable suggesting a circular series of steps. Subtle use of alliteration, internal rhyme and careful word choices.  Excellent work!  A beautiful example of an Etheree, personifying the mysteriousness of the breeze.  Wonderful diction, almost evoking the very heady scent of the breeze itself.
 

Fraction Anthem

Chiaroscuroed, I was stained
Like shattered glass reassembled
Into mute praises that trembled
Like dust motes in sunshine: ordained.
 

Sugar and Spice

In my hands I hold three sisters
Perched on a tiny quilt under the wayward wisteria
Properly brushed, scrubbed and starched obediently
Bowed in pleated taffeta solemnly crinolined Granny and
Great-Aunt Margaret in lace-edged ankle socks and patent Mary Janes
Great-Aunt Elizabeth's bare baby feet, lost in the undisciplined grass.

COMMENTS:  Highly developed, with wonderfully observed characters.  Charming piece brings life to dolls.  Provide a glimpse of history.  Here we are given a touch of mystery: are these literal or figurative sisters, are they simply three little girls or are they symbols for something much deeper - perhaps darker? Subtle use of alliteration and thoughtful word choice.  Grabbing first line evolves into explanatory phrasings; well done.  Interesting choices of vocabulary to paint a literal picture and then wrap it up in a figment of imagination.  Beautiful phrase, "undisciplined grass."
 

Secret Missions

My San Antonio skyline lies sleepily sheltered underneath the unending
Upended concrete shoeboxes of modernity: La Villita, El Mercado,
The Majestic Theater where I saw my first James Bond film resplendently
Displayed, rococoed in thick burgundy velvet curtains and flamboyantly gold
Gilt curlicued carvings massively indifferent to the wonders of Technicolor;
And her loveliest pearls, unstrung and loose across the emerald grass:
San Jose, Concepcion, San Juan Capistrano, and Los Compadres,
Their half-forgotten memories guarded by haughty peacocks, glistening with history.

COMMENTS:  Regional in setting, but truly a universal "story."  Well-titled.     Interesting use of the ordinary word “shoebox” in an extra-ordinary manner.  Brings past to present, nice job of weaving facts.   A deceptively simple “Song of San Antonio,” and a quiet, deeply-felt hometown honorific. Clever wordplay in the title. Wonderful description of the missions.  Another fine piece from this poet.  Love of language is the theme here, with its glorious revelry in lush words and names.  Wonderful internal rhymes create a feeling of flow.
 

ataraxia

wilted hibiscus
bloom keeps silent vigil
sun-dappled cat snores

wet pawprints dissolve
moonstones guard cool green water
tadpoles resurface

wind teases shy ferns
ruffles chocolate brown fur
ear twitches just once

COMMENTS:  Focuses with loving carefulness on things and creatures of our world.  These well-done traditional Haiku paint a tranquil scene in a concise manner.  These haiku, singly and collectively, embody the title. The laid-back cat calmly floats through all three to the delight of the reader.  Sleepy language underscores the sleepy nature of the subject; beautiful interweaving of the cat, the pool/tadpoles, and the wind, showing how they all interact and interplay.  Excellent imagery courtesy of careful, thoughtful wording. Fine work!
 

Brave New World

I had a Muse whose pain-filled past dripped through my fingers
Like liquid gold every word cut like freshly faceted diamonds
Sparkling wet and raw on pages eagerly awaiting new wordstains
Each syllable falling polished from my rock tumbler lips their
Dust coated my lungs until every breath I breathed was for my Muse
I bound myself into those wounds and swam in their warm currents
Joyful until the day my Muse abandoned me swiftly quietly finally.
Learning to use my own lungs has been hard but I must breathe or
Die. I've already died too many times. I don't write as much now
But I write in my own words: singing swiftly, quietly. Finally.

COMMENTS:  Describes strong characters with fresh, rich language.  Insightful poem on courage required to divest oneself from comfort of the familiar and be one's self as a writer. Lyrical ending.  There is a zen approach to this piece: yang and yin, dark and light, then and now. These contrasting segments are nicely tied together by the ending words of each: "swiftly-quietly-finally."  Almost a sestina in feeling, but not in form; the repetition of key ideas in different words forms a poem that is both past and present in one body.  Wonderful concluding phrases.

Martha Kirby Capo's work has appeared in The Aurorean, Texas Poetry Calendar 1999, Curbside Review and Sol Magazine, and is available through Yelton Rhodes Music Publishers. Her work has been included in several anthologies, including In the Company of Women, Desires, and Portals, and she has been a featured poet several times at the Houston International Poetry Festival.  Her poetry won the 2000 Houston Writers League Manuscript Competition.  Ms. Capo was a finalist in the Sol Magazine 1999 Poet Laureate Competition. Her work has been performed at the International Choral Music Festival in Vienna, Austria.

Ms. Capo is the Director of Admissions at St. Thomas the Apostle Episcopal School in Nassau Bay, Texas.  She lives in Clear Lake, Texas, with her husband, sons and cats.  She has just accepted the management’s invitation to join the staff of Sol Magazine as an Assistant Editor, where she will byline a monthly feature called WRITERS’ RESOURCE.
 

Aromatico

Curl,
dwarf green
river, curl.
Cool seasons call
waves of frothy lace
from stems whose long stiff forms
lift flavor from earth through root,
up rod to globe to ruffled leaves
where triple curls are tender and sweet.
Bushy garden parsley tastes tangy, clean.

COMMENTS:  Wonderful use of extended metaphor and nice touches of personification throughout. Clever title.  Interesting example of assonance, alliteration and alliterative effect.   Pleasing repetition of sights, sounds and movements.  Brings sight, feel, and taste to the table of nature.  The liquid sounds (L and R) in "Aromatico" flow in an ever-constant and pleasing cascade.
 

Treasure

One summer, I recall we played.
Spread arms as far as they could reach.
Gold trickled between fingers splayed.
Snared sunshine on an empty beach.

COMMENTS:  Good balance between the title and the body of the poem. Last two lines are vibrantly written.  Splendid variety of textures.  Charming poem capturing the wonderment of the of youth.
 

Ascension

In my hands, I hold a reliable sign of religion,
a flicker in a votive cup. Fireflies light the fleshy vault,
shine through fingers arched
like heaven. The rapid beating of their wings is invisible,
as if the quickening of belief, as it transcends the bonds
of earth, must forever hide its fiery birth.

COMMENTS:  "Fleshy vault" is an unusual and vivid euphemism for one's palms--nice image! An effect of spiritual quality and sense of wonder.  Artistic blend of religion and nature, synthesizing the two subjects.  The juxtaposition in "Ascension" of faith-language and the plight of caught fireflies is superb!

Wild Skies

The clouds swipe Austin's battered sky.
The groping of their fingers stroke the chafed and raw horizon.
Why do colors streak the tainted lake with sunset's bitter beauty?
Why do grand displays of light illumine refuse on the ground?
The adornment of the niches
gleaming in the dusky twilight
is a spangling under storm clouds,
painted starkness on a city's sod.

COMMENTS:  Interesting use of meter in the second line.   Precise images and the repetition of sounds echo throughout.  Skillful weaving of personification, splendid ending  flows well, colorful capsule.
 

Arrowlight

sky pool
golden moonrise
endless sight map

shadow shroud
curtained canyon cleft
ancient black tide

fleeting flint glint
quicksilver sight
cave shade night

COMMENTS:  Effective use of alliteration throughout this collection of Haiku. Clear images against a background of manipulating sounds clearly portray nature.  Continuous use of "s" sounds make verses sing.
 

Chorale

A lone fossil stone in a centuries dry creek
hones known associations.
But, I've ideas of my own when deserts
speak of crystallization, when lazy light
hums harmonic hymns under scorching scarlet suns.
The mystery of a cave's curved crypt
pings bells of resonation, a maze
of spells, sensation
that can only be told
in the pattern of a poem.

COMMENTS:  Good use of internal rhyme in "associations,” “crystallization,” “resonation” and “sensation".  Nice use of alliteration in  "hums harmonic hymns," "scorching scarlet suns," and "cave's curved crypt."  Rhythm and rhyme within the lines emphasize structure.   Aptly titled, pleasing alliteration, rhythmic words and phrases.

Candace A. York, age 47, has spent the last forty years immersed in creative endeavors (writing, painting, illustration, graphics design, photography), with twenty-five years in communications in the computer industry. She received a B.F.A. in Fine Arts (Art History) in 1976 from the University of Texas at Austin, and is employed at IBM Corporation, currently working in internet marketing communications.   She recently published "Tour the Advanced Technology Laboratory," at the developerWorks website, which drew 18,000 readers, and proved, “Writing about controversial technology will fill your mailbox with e-mail.”   She collects first edition books.  In 2000, she wrote 365 poems (a poem a day). She began entering competitions in 2001. Her award winning poetry has been published in Sol Magazine, Frets Magazine, Poetry, For Better or Worse, Cat Fancy, Austin International Poetry Festival, 2001 a di-verse-city odyssey, Austin Writer's Journal, and the Austin American Statesman.
 

Perennial Me

Plant
no rose
bush graveside.
Leave no lilies
wrapped in baby's breath.
Save your sad hyacinths.
The final garden grows wild.
Find me where roadside daisies dance
in tandem with the West wind blowing.
Let me be elemental memory.

COMMENTS:  Nice use of alliteration.  Reminiscent of "My Hereafter," by Juanita de Long; this poet captures the same joy of a free spirit.  Dramatic work is a well-done keepsake.   Extraordinary intensity and power straight from the heart.  .  This poem has hints of Emily Dickinson, Christina Rossetti and Sara Teasdale.
 

Fearful Sky

Love, let the sky refill its glow -
the storms are simply all I know.
I'm never sure just what I fear -
the thunder's grin or sunshine's tear.

COMMENTS:  Personification in the last line sparkles. Perceptive view.   Highly imaginative work.  Well done!
 

Letting Go

In my hands I hold (too tight) to yesterday,
briefly mine and gone again -
gone to where yesterday's go when tomorrow returns.
I've forgotten today, Love, I've forgotten today.
Hold my now (loosely) in the palm of your hand and
teach me to unclench my fingers, letting go of the past.

COMMENTS:  Lovely, plaintive.  Unusual use of parenthesis; a poignant plea for help in getting on with life.  Flows well, with a different twist on time.  Prayerful prose poem, image filled.
 

Ladder 157, Rescue 2

Now lay the old New York to bed
but hold the memory in your head
of bloodstained street and skyline red.
Find strength between the flame and ash,
between the thunder and the flash.
Remember those who raised so high
-between the silence and the sigh-
bold tattered flag in shattered sky.

COMMENTS:  Moving response to our recent national tragedy.  Elegant tribute, flows well, good cadence.  Clear-eyed, thoughtful and compassionate.
 

In-Utero

benevolent garden
one foreign seed draws first breath
inhale divide

three spores are scattered
six cells seek sanctuary
exhale multiply

malignant conception
each silent new spawn mutates
inhale exhale

COMMENTS:  Last lines of each piece are nicely interwoven. Consistent use of reproductive imagery helps to unite this series of Haiku.  Appropriate title for a remarkable group of verses.  Final verse true and unexpected, the mark of an accomplished poet.  Offers a total experience of explosive images.
 

I as She

Sometimes, at midnight,
she hears the worms speak.
Unholy snakes
wrap around her head
and she listens,
as only she can listen.
Her dream is to someday translate
the sibilant syllables
into a language
the world will understand.

COMMENTS:  Interesting and subtle reference to Medusa.  Author consistently uses alliteration to good effect throughout each of her efforts.  Extraordinary portrait of the ever-elusive muse.  Imaginative poetry that arouses emotions.

Poet Laura Heidy has worked in the Emergency Department of a large hospital for ten years.  She lives in the Midwest, in Indiana, with her three children, all male.  In her words, “They keep me balanced on that fine thin line which separates sanity from insanity.  I have, at various times, worked as a bartender, a street medic, a firefighter and a waitress.  I am, above all, an intensely private person.  My poetry is just one more way and one more vision.”

Laura Heidy’s work has won several dozen “win, place, or show” awards in various contests scattered across the last two years, including at Sol Magazine.  She critiques poetry on an Internet site.
 

Children of Mercy

Sprouts!
My new
born children.
Embracing dawn
wearing garden scents
and maternity green.
Each one contracting to grow
hinting promises of great yield.
As I bend to choose which will remain
I reflect then rise pulling weeds instead.

COMMENTS:  "Maternity green" is a vivid image. Humorous twist in the last line reminds us one can't always choose the attributes of one's "children."  Humorous and imaginative way of seeing.  Charming view, clever unexpected ending.  Mark of a fine poem with alligator closure.  Captures a feeling shared by gardeners who know they are guardians of living things: thinning the seedlings is such a terrible assignment to face!
 

Awakening

I recall a time when I felt
Rather than saw a new sunshine
As it gently raised me in time
To appreciate morning's spell

COMMENTS:  Strong, clear, sensual, unexpected.  Well-crafted snapshot of topic.  Intimate reminiscence.
 

A Favor

In my hands I hold a latex glove
moist from wiping her lips.
She gargled death slowly.
He should not see her like this
slack-jawed, as if still fighting
that last tortured breath.

COMMENTS:  "She gargled death slowly" conjures a powerful aural image to amplify the visual images.  Truly captivating and devastatingly clear.    Chilling, thought provoking.  A horrible scene, clearly, yet compassionately told.
 

Skies of Ruin

People my People where have you gone
songs and laughter have fled
Children my Children where are your homes
stones without voices are dead
Fathers and Mothers where are your bones
grandchildren need to be led
People my People where did you go
when Chaco your city was bled.

COMMENTS:  Last line is a wonderful reference to the demise of the Anasazi culture of New Mexico. This line "makes" the poem.  Powerfully emotional content.  Reminds of current events flashing hourly on the news.  Touching. Striking.  A poignant folk song.
 

sunrise

lonely loon calling
misty morning softens sun
silencing crickets

glistening grassland
silk strung dewdrops shimmering
morning glory blooms

snow goose setting wings
sideslipping wintery sky
splashing mirrored dawn

COMMENTS:  Consistent use of alliteration throughout each Haiku helps tie them together in a cohesive unit. Repeated use of sibilance brings to mind the soft chirruping of early morning insects as the sun rises.  Acutely sensitive observations of nature.  Effective use of a few well chosen words with repetitive rhythms to present a word picture.
 

Introspection

When the Twin Towers collapsed
I finally had a metaphor, which fit
depression and the devastation it wreaked on me.
We imprinted images of mushrooming debris
over and over to absorb, comprehend
and deal with shock and sorrow.
In retrospect writing began as my CNN
reporting then replaying internal breaking emotions.
Today I write as a cartographer, explorer and warrior
embarked upon an expedition to discover my own mind.

COMMENTS:  Penultimate line is striking, not only because of the sudden use of present tense but also in the self-definitions the author reveals.  Truly introspective, powerfully expressed.  Relevant reflections.  Powerful description of the process of using tragedy to alter one's course and arrive at self-understanding.  The writer's emotional jagged edges are aptly revealed and described.

Poetry judge and poet Ron Blanton manages the training department for a Satellite based Internet Service Provider. He hails from Tennessee, and now calls a variety of places (Tennessee, Maryland, New Hampshire, Florida, Utah and Georgia) home. He says that he has met and come to love many beautiful people in his journeys.  In his words, "It has been a great joy and invaluable therapy to me to write and be listed among the talented writers here. I feel like a fraud who has posed himself as a writer and now has been "called out" to face a faster gun.”  Ron Blanton has been published in various magazines, and has received numerous awards for his writing from Sol Magazine.  In addition to being a finalist in the Sol Magazine 2002 Poet Laureate Competition, he was a panel judge for Sol’s April 2002 poetry contests.
 

Why Spade and Rake?

Why
turn dirt
when only
worms gain refuge?
Catch their twisting tubes,
spread them under the soil
and plant seeds for company.
Never mind what might happen next.
Sit near the garden of growing dreams.
Patience may reveal the slimiest of hopes.

COMMENTS:  "Twisting tubes" gives the reader a vivid image of an earthworm writhing through the dirt. "Plant seeds for company" is wonderful!  Thoughtful view of subject.  Concentrates on a sequence of related actions.
 

Morning-after Shoves Through Open Container

Dawn's sunshine fingers best untie
the knot of darkness left at break.
Leave stars on strike against the sky,
and fill my head with boozy ache.

COMMENTS:  "Stars on strike against the sky" clearly evokes the militant-like obstinacy with which the last stars refuse to leave their posts in the face of an encroaching dawn.  Laughter provoking.  Humorously portrayed.
 

What You Gave Could Not Be Grasped

In my hands I hold your slingback shoes.
The muscles of your back stretch as you slide
each arm through a sleeve of your dress.
You take the shoes, leave without speaking.
Left behind, a scent beyond remembrance.
Everything of substance follows you out the door.

COMMENTS:  Powerfully understated last line.  Intimate portrait of loss; left only with that strongest sense of the past - a scent.  Exposes the complexity of everyday life with exceptional character development.
 

If Not For The Bleat Of Sheep

If not for the bleat of sheep, I may never
have moved to the flattened hills of Memphis.
Here, the skyline stutters like a drunk poet, to the tune
of a saxophone blown out of human consequences.
But never the mournful sound of wounded animals
strip-searched for wool.  Memphis, your streets
and low rises gave me canyons to hide my sorrow.
And the howl in the night is always my own.

COMMENTS:  "The skyline stutters like a drunk poet" is marvelous! Wonderful contrast and comparison between the panicked bleating of assaulted sheep and the Ginsbergian "Howl" of a tortured human soul. Full of vivid imagery.  Unusual title, interesting use of near rhyme, metaphor, and simile, uses ordinary word canyons in an extraordinary way.  Vivid picture using sight and alliterations of "s" sounds.  Insights represent truths awakening sensuous and emotional apprehension.
 

Broken

snow sits in bare tree
limber youth gone branches bend
then break in old age

spring breaks crust of pond
waves trapped in season of ice
return to ripple

speckled egg wobbles
tender shell breaks life begins
in a yellow squawk

COMMENTS:  The different ways of being 'broken' are variously explored in these delicate Haiku. "Yellow squawk" is fantastic!   Fitting title, skillful comparisons.  Interprets spring most effectively with stimulating images.
 

Filling Empty Rooms

I write to make memory dance
in rooms bare of dreams,
fill silence with lullaby and dirge.
I write to heal a million cracks
of everyday boredom,
to find the fact or lie truest
to the stories of our lives.
I write to avoid staring at full moonlight,
to lend voice to those who are speechless,
and to learn which word I am.

COMMENTS:  The last line if this poem is deliciously full of unstated implications. Larry L. Fontenot has a gift for amplification of an entire piece through last lines that consistently feature the deft use of a few well-placed words rich in multi-layered meaning.  Fascinating rhythm and metaphors.  Honestly portrayed,

Poet and writer, Larry L. Fontenot is currently employed by the City of Houston in the Parks Department Information Services group.  Mr. Fontenot has been published in both print and web publications including Sol Magazine, Arrowsmith, i.e. magazine, RiverSedge, Sulphur River Literary Review, Chachalaca Poetry Review, Maverick Press, Melic Review, Poet's Canvas, Curbside Review and Snow Monkey.  He has been a juried poet at the Houston Poetry Fest several times and was selected as Featured Poet twice.

His work has been awarded at Sol Magazine, and at many writing conferences, including those of the Woodlands Writers Guild, and the Southeast Texas Writers League.  Larry L. Fontenot won the 1996 Maverick Press Southwest Poets' Series Chapbook competition and received Honorable Mention in the 1999 Houston Writers League Chapbook Contest.
 

Communier

Mist
of gnats
whorl. Worms, flesh
tender, shun sun.
On dew-glittered web
Spider waits, draped along
a late daisy promenade.
Above, blackbirds turn in circles
while below, in my morning garden,
a giant red hibiscus fills my eyes.

COMMENTS:  Strong rhythms and skillful employment of euphony invite the reader to wander in this beautiful little garden of a poem.  Startling commentary of nature and the beholder.   Lively, diverse observation.   So many things – like magnificent photographs.  Prayerful, powerful, simply soulful.
 

Ray of Hope

A marvel here; in woodshed where
a tender seedling stretches back,
and heaves its head toward shingle crack
expecting faithful sunshine there.

COMMENTS:  Good use of personification in the last two lines.  Nice twist with a surprise.  Clearly sighted narration takes shape and comes alive.
 

Warsaw

In my hands I hold the perspiration of destiny,
the fear of manic fate. Belongings no longer
belong. A personal possession is something
new, intense, inconceivably deranged.
A star on my lapel, a symbol of segregation,
a ticket in my hand to an unknown destination.

COMMENTS:  Stunning, knife-edged understatement in lines three and four really works to convey just how morally, ethically and horribly upside-down the ethos of Hitler's regime was. Last two lines could successfully stand alone.  Stark imagine of horror, strong details, first line sets the stage.   Explores a full range of human experience.
 

Fingers Toward the Future

Chestnut, oak, pine and maple spires ascend
mountainous slopes like fingers pointing
toward the future. Albany's natural silhouette
against an indigo backdrop of night.
Gradually replaced by generations
of industrial advancements, the hand
of man, the fist of fortune, a modern
skyline of steel scrapers and smoking stacks.

COMMENTS:  Juxtaposition of nature versus industrialization works well in this piece.  Exceptional imagery.  Interesting poem of art and architecture.
 

Nocturnalis

sun nods after tea
gray loons serenade lagoon
grass crickets gather

old willow trembles
midnight storm rumbles thunder
youthful trees flashdance

clouds swirl along sky
plump worms offer breakfast to
stunning yellow birds
 

Each Morning I Wake...

I write. It's a passion for the turn of a phrase, the perfect
first line, the perfect conclusion, the perfect connection
between. It's the challenge of performing a form.
It's the feel of the paper, the white sheets waiting to be
filled. It's the smell of good books stacked everywhere.
The knowledge, the skill, the feeling of fulfillment at finding
the right word and the next right word and hopefully
sharing this joy, teaching this pleasure to someone else.
It's a dedication to the craft of weaving words, to written human
expression. It's a devotion to the poetic art of communication.

COMMENTS:  Clearly and concisely written. The manifesto of a dedicated writer and teacher of the craft.  Nicely constructed.  Creatively illustrates how pieces combine into a bigger picture.

Maryann Hazen-Stearns, author of poetry collection "Under the Limbo Stick," has poetry appearing in print publications throughout the US as well as Canada, Switzerland, India, and the UK.  She teaches a course at Sullivan County Community College entitled "Poetry In Progress." She is also an occasional Poetry Editor, Poetry Competition Judge, and CMT.  She is currently an active member of Sol Magazine, The Alchemy Poetry Club, the Woodstock Poetry Society, and Poets & Writers.

Maryann Hazen-Stearns has won numerous awards and competitions with her work. She is currently putting the finishing touches on two new poetry manuscripts, "Flesh Off the Press," and "Dancing with Choice & Chance," (titles subject to change) and is looking for an interested publisher.
 
 

Joyous

I
sit there
in the weeds
waiting for it,
like a still statue
of an ancient Greek god.
I hear the call on the wind,
see a sly smile in each new bloom.
I breathe deep the honeysuckle fumes
and answer the call of coming springtime.

COMMENTS:  Sights, sounds and smells of spring delineated in a few well-chosen words.  Delightful personification of smiling bloom.   Conveys a personal, yet timeless reflection of springtime.  Effective use of simile.
 

Equinox Rebirth

Let me bathe in morning dew,
let me shower in spring sunlight.
Let me cast away winter's blight
and let me be reborn anew.

COMMENTS:  Well constructed, lovely rhythm, full of warmth, great metaphors.   Written with sincerity -- reads like a prayer.  Description makes this heartfelt little prayer memorable. Written to be chanted aloud!
 

45s Rediscovered

In my hands I hold my childhood.
Ridged in vinyl they spun nightly,
My desire to be loved flooding
their endless spirals, black whirlpools
of longing filling the night with
sung promises, seldom fulfilled.

COMMENTS:  Vivid imagery of how the sight and feel of an object plays sounds in the mind and brings longing to the heart.  Striking revelation.  Light, informal tone reflects a personal, yet universal portrayal of both the beauty and pain of youth.  Written with lulling rhythms and strong internal rhymes. Use of several words with feminine (unstressed) endings, reading this poem is almost like watching a record spin on a turntable--good work!
 

Our Apple Today

New York's been brutally beaten
in the face by a bully.
Its skyline smile's been broken.
All we wanted for Christmas
was its two front teeth,
but there was no Tooth Fairy
to pay for our loss, no promise
of baby teeth turning into adults.

COMMENTS:  Interesting twist of the dramatic moment.  Both metaphorical and devastatingly real.  Title neatly brings to mind the axiom, "an apple a day," the subtle reference to which brings another layer of meaning to this piece. "Two front teeth" is a wonderful metaphor.
 

Spring

wasp on
the climbing rose
stinging thorns

hunting amid
dandelion blossoms
strutting crow

damp evening
storm moon illuminates
gecko silhouette

COMMENTS:  Enchanting view of nature.  Crisp images.  Vivid pastoral images illustrate the title of this poem-set.
 

Soothing The Loss

My first lines where childish things,
experiments in poetic attempts
soon forgotten, succumbing to adulthood.
Later poems wore tears of mourning,
salty drops drowning the loneliness,
inked words searing over the pain.
Someday the weight of loss is still there
and my pen still weeps, ceasing to move
across the paper, despairing for love lost, but
for the most part, it now sings joyously of life.

COMMENTS:   Good summary.  Highly emotional, deeply affecting.   The different aspects of the creative process are clearly described in this effort. Good use of personification.

Clifford Thomas Roberts was born in Denison, Texas, where he graduated high school and started writing poetry.   He currently lives in Fort Worth, Texas, with his wife and fellow poet, Brenda Beene Roberts, their poetmate, Coke Brown, and their cat Greta.  Mr. Roberts works at Half Price Books.  In 1995, he and his family took care of their friend, Jerry Anderson, who died of AIDS on October 15, National Poetry Day. "I consider poetry Jerry's gift to us, and find it immensely important to try to inspire others to write.  I love giving back the special gift of poetry that was given to us."

Cliff Roberts has been the Texoma Poetry Society's Membership Chairman for the last eight years, as well as its Historian For Life.  He was the co-founder of Voices of Texoma.  A member of Poetry Society of Texas, Poets of Tarrent County, New Millennium Poets, Borders Sunday Night Mic, SawGrass and Friends, and co-host of the Four Star Five Minute Workshop, Mr. Roberts is a lecturer on Haiku and related Oriental forms.

His award winning poetry has been published in "Dimensions," "Crossroads," "Cat Fancy," "Anything That Moves," "Dreams Of Decadence," "Freedom,"  "Celestial Musings," "Sunshine & Shadows," "Poetic Medicine," "Now We're Cooking," "Poetic Harvest," "Texoma Treasures," and "Uninspired Back Row."  He is the author of "In Another Vein," written under the pen name of Vanyell Delacroix, and "Daysleeper," both from SynergEbooks.
 

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