The Goddess Within
By Lailani Martinez
Within us all is a Goddess
Seen in the face of nature and the souls of humanity,
She lives in the realm of light and the realm of darkness.
Young Maiden, known as the Huntress,
With her animal instincts and endless curiosity.
Within us all is this Goddess.
She comes from a place inside of us,
that transcends time, space and duality.
She lives in the realms of light and of darkness.
Great mother is the name of this sculptress
Fashioning, like clay, all that is known as reality.
Within us all is this Goddess
Wise old Crone, who slumbers in the Abyss,
of souls waiting to be invoked from her home so solitary.
This is the realm of lost light, and overwhelming darkness.
Look beyond, for within us lay the words, speechless
a divine spark that rids of sanity and reveal true beauty
Within us all is a Goddess
who lives inside our realms of light and darkness.
Scars Painted with a Brush of False Hope
By Ashley Schoessow
He illuminated a moonless sky
With just his eyes
With just his eyes
Lightened sapphire
Tie-dyed with imprints of indigo
They beamed through the night
Like a firefly
And I was ignited
As vertigo shot down my spine
And lightning
Splintered the canvas of the sky.
Splintered the canvas of the sky.
Creating art with his tongue
He used a brush of jargon-less speech
And went on to preach
That he wished to keep his page
Less defined
And free of undeviating strokes
So by revoking
And refining the line
He paid off his artistic debt
With a picture frame of truth
Each time
Painting more of
An image as proof
That it was too soon.
That it was too soon.
That was the night’s epilogue
What he called an apology
And I tried to scribble lines
To change his minds alibi
But I missed
Countless times
Carelessly coloring his lips
Fire red
With a crayon
That had somehow slipped from my hand
And landed so precisely
Within the lines
Of his and mine, embracing
In a kiss
In a kiss
That I can only reminisce.
Struck by a ringing in my ear
I left through the door
Still deaf to hearing
All but an echo
All but an echo
Of a lullaby I thought I heard
In his words
Anytime the images that he painted
Combined with my chords
But it must have only been
A slight reverberation
From the music that he played
On the frets of my heart
But I must not have played a part
On his
Since it was getting late
And I had to leave
The sound of the strings
Echoing across the yard
As I walked to my car
Parked on the road
Next to a tree, aged
With scars of false hope.
Even though he was careful
Not to make a mark
Not to make a mark
He carved his name
In the sacred scripture of my heart
And skillfully, but quickly
He stitched and unstitched
My threads
First, loosening the ends
Then tightening them again
As I tangled up in knots.
As I tangled up in knots.
I cursed the fuse of his past
He had just unlit
And there
I sat
Silently moping
Below the skies
Patching up the scars
He had carved in my heart
While asking the stars
For a brush
To replace and repaint
Over his eyes
With a brighter, moonlit sky.
With a brighter, moonlit sky
Wet Blacktop
by Patricia Hegedus
As the first misty drops of the summertime rain to hit the steaming, hot, blacktop brings a
scent to my nasal passages that provoke fond memories of a time that does really not
seem that long ago. Wet blacktop…an aroma that will always bring me back to my
childhood every time. Lazy, long, hot summer days. A time when it felt that the summer
would never end. Drawers chuck full of clothes, too hot to wear. The same bikinis were
worn day in and day out. Swimming from daybreak to dusk and on those rare occasions
after dark. Chlorine clinging to sun-kissed skin, hair sun-bleached to the color of winter
wheat. The biggest dilemma of the day was that if Mr. Softee was going to get there
before it was bedtime. It warms my heart when my son asks me if I smell the rain.
Victorian
By: Kristen MacDonald
Light blue and white
Old paint, not new,
Big pillared porch
Enjoy the view.
Frank Brother’s Farm
Across the way,
Large field in back
Deer come to play.
Come see inside
Wood floors, it’s true—
Scratches, nicks and
Water stains too!
Walls of bright shades
Yellow and jade,
Sunflower art
And drapes home made.
This is our house
Charming and sweet,
White picket fence
Isn’t it neat?