Poetry Corner – Volume 7

6
967

For the inner ear, the voice of the vessel of silence is an embrace
felt by an infinite number of scribes.
It is my wish to offer here an oasis of present day poetic
pens.

Each month i shall invite new poets to breathe with, and they in
turn will bring guests of their own.

Poetry Corner at TIFERET has evolved out of Donna Stein’s
enthusiasm to nurture the spirit of beauty in all its forms.

silent lotus


December 2010 Silent Lotus’ Selected
Poets’

Heather Sullivan

and her guest Lawrence Krips

Douglas Shawe

and his guest Kent Agee



Heather
Sullivan

UNDER THE ECHINACEA
for my daughter Page, age 4

She lays the moth down
upon her sacred patch
of mossy earth, beside the spinning
hot pink pinwheel.

This is where he belongs,
now that he won’t wake up.
He won’t wake up now,
even when she pokes him, shakes him.

But she knows the angels
will swoop down to find him dreaming
under the petal umbrellas
of Echinacea.

They will make him better,
and he’ll fly off; he’ll follow
the lightning bug path
back to the dancing moths’ forest.

She kisses her index finger,
touches it to his fuzzy cheek
just once; shimmering raindrops
form in her eyes. In the morning,

he is gone, and she says, “I knew
they’d come.” Again, I melt
into her realm of tender faith.
Each time she rescues

another fallen insect, each time
their fragile rice-paper wings
reflect the moonlight on my palms
(after I’ve tucked her in bed)

I place them elsewhere:
a different garden, under the shelter
of a sunflower’s heavy head,
those leafy hands outstretched,

begging Time
to let her keep believing.

SNOWGLOBE

Nature ignores my emotions.

Tonight
the snow erases
brittle grass until the stubble
is no more, until the electric
sizzle of so many landings,
flakes like slivered glass
against lavender sky,
despite my
woes.

Tomorrow
the yard will look like a photograph
someone else took and hung across our sliding glass doors—
even my neighbor’s neglected shed will transform into frosted
gingerbread
and ice-prismed trees will glint the morning light,
until I’m sure the world is
this beautiful.


HEATHER SULLIVAN is an active member of Ocean State Poets, a
group whose mission is to give voice to under-served populations by
conducting workshops in prisons, nursing and group homes, addiction
recovery centers, The Institute for Non Violence, and alternative
learning environments. Ms. Sullivan is also the founder of Praying
Mantis Press, a nonprofit dedicated to showcasing and publishing
the works of these individuals. In 2007, Heather was appointed
Assistant Creative Director of the Rhode Island Writers’ Circle,
where she volunteered her time until 2010. In 2007, she served as a
panel judge for Barnes and Noble’s State-wide Maya Angelou High
School Poetry Contest. Heather holds an M.A. in English and won
First Place in Writers’ Digest’s 1999 Competition in
memoir / personal essay category. Sullivan’s work has appeared in
Balancing the Tides: A Newport Journal, The Writers’
Circle’s 2008 & 2010 Anthologies
, Newport Round
Table’s Walls and Bridges Anthology
, The Providence
Journal
, The Newport Daily News, and She Shines
Magazine
. Her essay “Compassion” aired on Rhode Island’s
National Public Radio’s This I Believe series, and she has
recorded her poetry for Insight Radio for the visually
impaired.
Email: heather.sullivan1@cox.net

Lawrence Krips

 

A Soul’s Way . . .
to be free is to release the imprisoned

Within concrete walls,
centered in a cell
of sanitized dirt
lays an isolated one.
Sequestered in this dingy prison
for crimes of the heart;
found guilty by abundant evidence
a child gathered
on an ingenuous journey.
Condemned to life,
confined for life,
never to be freed
to be amongst decent ones.
Unrequited cries for mercy;
pleas to higher courts;
reverse the sentence,
give probation,
regain those years.

Living in our human mosaic
of these juxtaposed compartments
few know of the others,
and even fewer know of the escapes.
Few know of the freedom attained
when one unlocks fleshy gates
by releasing the only prisoner
the warden can.

By proclaiming freedom
to those remaining,
another child may live again.


Lawrence Krips is a recent immigrant to the shores of Rhode
Island after spending most of his life in New York City and
environs, A Souls Way is from his book , A Soul’s Way . . .
Soulspeak, a collection of fifty poems currently available on
CD.

Larry is now working as an empowerment coach and as a performance
artist in his poetry/music group, “Mouthpeace.” He began writing
poetry about nine years ago. His newest offsprings join his
original poems, daughters Valentina and Monica.
Email: soulpo8@cox.net


Douglas
Shawe

“RAIN FALLS”

     WE SHARE THIS SILENT ROOM
     SILHOUETTES IN CANDLELIGHT
     WE’RE NAKED AS THE MOON
     WORDS ARE ONLY WASTED TONIGHT
          WE ARE
PERFECTLY LOST IN EACH OTHER
          WE ARE
SHADOWS FOREVER ENTWINED
          DRIFTING
DEEPER WE DANCE
          WE ARE
LOVERS IN LOVE WITHOUT TIME

               THEN
THE RAIN FALLS
               AND
ALL THE WORLD IS STANDING STILL
               THEN
THE RAIN FALLS
               OUR
LOVE IS RENEWED…AGAIN

     AND AS THE RAIN BEGINS
     I’LL TRACE EVERY TOUCH WE SHARE
     DRAW PICTURES ON YOUR SKIN
     EVERY KISS WILL BE LIKE A PRAYER
          WE ARE
HELPLESSLY DRAWN TO EACH OTHER
          WE ARE
BOUND WITH EACH BREATH THAT WE TAKE
          WASHED
IN TEARS FROM THE SKY
          PURIFIED
BY THE LOVE THAT WE MAKE

               THEN
THE RAIN FALLS
               AND
ALL THE WORLD IS STANDING STILL
               THEN
THE RAIN FALLS
               OUR
LOVE IS RENEWED…AGAIN

                    STARLIGHT,
STAR BRIGHT
                    GENTLE
MOONLIGHT
                    HEAL
ME ,HOLD ME
                    MIDNIGHT
OWN ME
                    SAFE
WITHIN YOUR ARMS
                    I
KNOW I’M ALIVE

               THEN
THE RAIN FALLS
               AND
ALL THE WORLD IS STANDING STILL
               THEN
THE RAIN FALLS
               OUR
LOVE IS RENEWED…AGAIN

“IRISH EYES”

     SEA-MISTED STREETLAMPS SHINE
     LIGHTING THIS COASTAL SCENE
     TELEPHONE WIRE-FRAMED SPIDERWEB
NIGHT
     WHERE CHILLY WOOD COTTAGES LEAN

     WHEELRUTS TRACK UP TO HER DOOR
     EACH SANDY STEP CRACKS A KISS
     ICE-HARDENED PAINT CHIPS DROP AT THE
TOUCH
     OF BLUE-FISTED HANDS KNOCKING
STIFF

          IRISH
EYES
          WHEN
IT’S COLD AND DARK OUTSIDE
          WARM
THE NIGHT
          IRISH
EYES

               TOO
LATE NOW TO SAVE OUR LOVE FOR RAINY DAYS,
               TOO
LATE
               WHEN
THE SUN SHIPS OUT I WILL BE FAR AWAY
               FAR
AWAY

     COAL FIRE HEAT BREATHES HELLO
     INTO ROBIN’S EGG BLUE CHINA TEA
     WE SAIL UNDER BEDSHEETS QUARTERED AND
DRAWN
     CROSS A FOUR-MASTED CALICO SEA

          IRISH
EYES
          WHEN
IT’S COLD AND DARK OUTSIDE
          WARM
THE NIGHT
          IRISH
EYES


Douglas Shawe comes from a family of painters and show biz
folk. Grew up listening to the great songwriters – from Rodgers
& Hammerstein and George Gershwin to Lennon & McCartney and
Bacharach & David.
I’m an East Coast Yankee. I’ve lived in Florida, Massachusetts,
Connecticut, and New York. Also lived in London, England as well as
St. Maarten in the Caribbean. Twice in my life I’ve lived on
boats.
I was the right age to be seduced by Rock’n’Roll and began a career
as a musician in every conceivable type of musical situation. From
big arenas and concert halls to private luaus. Calypso & Soca
to Celtic & Orchestral.
I’ve been writing songs since the age of thirteen. I’ve had songs
used in film, TV, radio, records, CD’s, mp3’s, commercials, even a
doll. I’ve had songs recorded in Germany, Spain, France, Norway,
Japan, Korea, Taiwan, Panama, England, Belgium, Malta, the US, etc.
Pretty much everywhere in Europe and the Far East, as well as South
America.
Now living in Nashville, Tennessee with a beautiful wife and two
Golden Retrievers. But I miss living on a boat.
Email: yankeelion@comcast.net

Kent
Agee

Waiting For You

Last night I heard the god of passion
taking giant steps through town.
He stopped outside my bedroom window,
stood there while the Moon went ‘round.
I could hear his huge heart beating,
pumping blood like hot perfume.
I lay half awake, half dreaming…
     waiting for you.
In the morning there were ashes
strewn across my bedroom floor.
In the ash your name was written
like some ancient ritual.
Then I knew that my desire
was a furnace in my soul.
And all that cannot satisfy it
feeds the flame
     waiting for you.
Give me your forbidden secrets,
lay them naked next to mine.
Let me touch what’s hidden deepest.
Tear away the boundary line.
All the thoughts you try to bury
are alive inside their tomb.
Let me be their sanctuary.
Can’t you feel them
     waiting for you
In the street lights of temptation
hidden doorways are exposed.
Shadows of anticipation
watch with eyes that will not close.
Every footstep in the distance
is my dark dream coming true.
and every face in every window
is my own…
     waiting for you


A fourth generation musician/recording artist, Kent Agee first
gained attention as the front man and writer for legendary
Nashville rock band, Jane His Wife, Kent Agee has since
become one of Nashville’s most versatile songwriters. He has had
songs recorded in rock, pop, country, blue grass, Americana and
r&b by artists as diverse as Barbra Streisand, Rodney Atkins,
Vanessa Williams, Claire Lynch and Cinderella, among others. His
debut solo cd, “Fields and Fences” was chosen by Robert Oermann as
one of the best releases of 2004. Kent lives in Nashville, TN.
http://www.myspace.com/kentagee

Poetry Corner Monthly Archives

POETRY CORNER by silent lotus … NOVEMBER 2010

POETRY CORNER by silent lotus … OCTOBER 2010

POETRY CORNER by silent lotus … SEPTEMBER 2010

POETRY CORNER by silent lotus … AUGUST 2010

POETRY CORNER by silent lotus … JUNE 2010

POETRY
CORNER by silent lotus … MAY 2010