Daily Archives: June 23, 2017


“Quiet” by Eric Burbridge

A cloud of pollen surrounded the machine
I sneezed and finished the landscaping
Sunlight pierced the haze and stimulated the imagination
I reclined the glove soft leather

 

Pretty faces spread news and fear on high definition pixels
DVR temptation distracted momentarily
Discipline prevailed
And the power button restored tranquility

 

Sunlight drenched the family room
A squirrel paused on the window sill
It nibbled on an acorn and moved on
Admiration of a manicured landscape soothed wounded creativity
What beauty will come out of the silence?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eric Burbridge retired from public service after thirty-five years. Every since that wonderful day he has devoted himself to writing fiction and poetry.


“The Bite is Always Worse Than the Bark” by Colleen Redman

Worse than being bit
when I was eight years old
was the shame I felt
having to pull up my skirt
and pull down my pants
to show the doctor

 

Almost as bad as that
were the jokes that followed
and never having a dignified way
to say bum, butt, rear-end or fanny

 

For years I dreamt of growling dogs
German Shepherds that wouldn’t let me pass
at the school bus stop corner
of Spring Street and Nantasket Ave

 

I faced them down
Somewhere in my 30s
when my dreams changed from barking dogs
to being lost in strange cities

 

Worse than being bit
when I was eight years old
was being bit again at 65
being targeted then marked
with a vampire-like imprint
in the same place twice
for no reason

 

It seems that dog bites can be recurring
like bronchitis or ear infections
and that childhood bogeymen come back and bite
like dreams can bleed into your real life

 

And when you’re bit you in the ass
you have to ask “what is the metaphor
for this chewing out?”
What immunity have I been inoculated against?
What symmetry of destiny?
What betrayal?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Colleen Redman writes and provides photography for The Floyd Press newspaper in Virginia. Her poems have appeared in Mothering Magazine, We’moon Journal, Floyd County Moonshine, and Artemis Journal. Online publications that have featured her poetry include Della Donna, Poetry24, and Clutching at Straws. She blogs daily at looseleafnotes.com. “Dear Abby, How can I get rid of freckles?” was her first published piece at the age of 11.


“Her Nursing Home Eyes” by Robert L. Porter, Jr.

At first she was bright and attentive,
Laughing at many things.
But slowly her musings diminished;
That is what Alzheimer’s brings.

 

Initially her eyes seemed normal,
But their glow began to ebb,
Progressing ever so surely,
Like a spider builds her web.

 

The light in her eyes grows dimmer,
Diminishing every day.
The sparkle, the gleam, and the glitter
Are slowly fading away.

 

She often looks without seeing –
Displaying a vacant stare;
It’s hard to hold her attention;
Distractions loom everywhere.

 

It’s hurtful to watch her vanishing,
And difficult to scribe this rhyme,
Explaining the tug at my heartstrings
With each painful passage of time.

 

It’s no small task to communicate
This ache that I feel inside;
I utter goodbye every visit
With tears that I cannot hide.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robert L. Porter, Jr. is retired. He spent many entrepreneurial years in the computer industries, but retired as a vice president in the financial/brokerage industry. He has written poems for over 40 years, but only began seeking publication in 2015. He had a father who read stories and poems of the masters to him; and he developed a fondness for Longfellow, J. W. Riley, Poe, and many, many others. After escaping the business world, Bob has had more time to spend with his life-long passion: poetry. Improving the style and substance of his poems is his continuing focus.