Syracuse at Duskby Frances Daggar Roberts Seated at art-glass tablesby the muted tug of sea…lights across the bayand the feeling of centuriespreceding us.Battered bases to the buildingssome as old as Grecian conquest.Rough cobbled stonesand the evening stroll of families.Wine in our glasses slowly sipped. PHOTO: Fountain of Arethusa, Syracuse, Sicily, Italy. Photo by Luca NContinue reading “Syracuse at Dusk by Frances Daggar Roberts”
Tag Archives: poetry
Tasting Lucca by Joan Leotta
Tasting Luccaby Joan Leotta Humming Puccini, wewalk the wide path on topof Lucca’s circular walluntil we reach the market steps.I descend to buy red beans, farro,Parmigiano, tomatoes, pancetta.In our apartment,I blend and magnifyflavors with a bit of thyme.As our soup simmers,the aroma transports us frommodern Lucca to its days as aconquered Etruscan outpost ofRome, soldiersContinue reading “Tasting Lucca by Joan Leotta”
Mulberry by Terrence Sykes
Mulberrymorus nigra — sanctus dominusby Terrence Sykes The mulberry strugglesthrough bricks in thecorner of the piazzaSanta Maria del Carminepast the Ponte Vecchiojust across the Arno cusp of dayleft then leftprophecy ofdouble damnationstepping into darknesscandles & incense Masaccio frescoExpulsionbirth of the Renaissancestillness in the churchladen with historyhas my past followed me Adam & Evepastel chiaroscuronakednesssworded angelContinue reading “Mulberry by Terrence Sykes”
Vanishing Relics by Sue Mayfield Geiger
Vanishing Relicsby Sue Mayfield Geiger They seldom come by anymore—travelers needing to rest, park their weary backsides on our benches,spread out a feast of fried chicken, bottles of Dr. Pepper and Delaware Punch,all sweaty from being in the cooler. Air-conditioned cars and the Interstatedid us in. But a few of us still exist; you justContinue reading “Vanishing Relics by Sue Mayfield Geiger”
Off the Highway by Julia Weld Huntington
Off the Highway by Julia Weld Huntington Lilacs lift leaves of cool satin And blossoms of mother-of-pearl Against the tarnished silver of the deserted house. Tall, exquisite grasses fill the dooryard with spray. Through the sun-drenched fragrance drifts the hazy monotone of bees Tints of opal and jade; the hush of emerald shadows, And aContinue reading “Off the Highway by Julia Weld Huntington”
Route 684, Southbound Rest Stop by Jessica Greenbaum
Route 684, Southbound Rest Stopby Jessica Greenbaum So you see why it could not have been a more humble moment.If there was any outward sign of regaliaIt might have been the twilight crowning of the day, just then,A perfect moment of dusk, but changing, as a wave doesEven as you admire it. Because the southboundContinue reading “Route 684, Southbound Rest Stop by Jessica Greenbaum”
All my rains by Rose Mary Boehm
All my rainsby Rose Mary Boehm IWarm rain in the Caribbean,giant bathtub abruptlyturned over by a tropical giant.Rain that hurts. Rain that washesaway topsoil, flattening crab claw,golden trumpet and scorpion orchid,leaving the waxrose gasping for air,fills all dents in the hotel patios.Tennis courts become square lakesof reddish, sandy mud. Every passingcar’s a drencher. Take offContinue reading “All my rains by Rose Mary Boehm”
Rain by Frances Shaw
Rain by Frances Shaw When in the night the storm rises, I will run before it To the long shore, And there await the arms Slanting toward me— The strong gray arms of the rain. And I will lean on them, And be enchanted, And whispered to By the soft insistent voice Of the rain.Continue reading “Rain by Frances Shaw”
Rain in the Hills by William Haskell Simpson
Rain in the Hillsby William Haskell Simpson Were I the rainComing over the hills— I should be gladThat my cool fingers could ease the little fevers of dusty water-holes,And caress curled leaves of the cottonwoods. The herd,Pawing, bellowing, would let me quiet them,Standing in fresh pools by dusty water-holes– If I were the rainComing over theContinue reading “Rain in the Hills by William Haskell Simpson”
Streets in Shanghai by Tomas Tranströmer
Streets in Shanghaiby Tomas TranströmerTranslated by Patty Crane 1 The white butterfly in the park is being read by many. I love that cabbage-moth as if it were a fluttering corner of truth itself! At dawn the running crowds set our quiet planet in motion. Then the park fills with people. To each one, eightContinue reading “Streets in Shanghai by Tomas Tranströmer”
POETRY and PLACES 