"Feathers"
By Tricia LeBlanc
While on a path of dapped sunlight
I found myself, or
so I thought
A black angel had dropped me from the sky
Released me, tattered and worn to
a grassy floor
Drift back to the time when
I seemed nothing but a stark, rigid fringe
Though alive and bold around a central core
Fueled by the anger of a thousand storms
Later, I reappeared in the eddies
Trampled by a thousand feet, and yet
Sanctified - pristine and white
on a beach near the shore
'Perfect' he cried
"I have been writing poetry for several years - sometimes more than I care to remember! Some of my best poems were written in times of confusion and depression; it always seemed to be healing in some way to put feelings into words. Perhaps it is that way for many people who write."
* * * * * * * * * *
"Kenning, Phrase-Cleaver"
By Shane Teter
Hyphen-blended, half-hewn novelty --
Beowulf's word-winner, one good poet!
I wish that I had this poetics
sooner than I did. Bouncy iambics
and honeyéd line-enders, they lured me
like Keats to the bone-jar. Am I too blunt
to claim heroic-couplets for sissies
and to word-hammers golden whiskies?
(On reading Seamus Heaney's "Introduction" to his translation of Beowulf.)
"When I'm not making my daughters memorize Shakespearian soliloquies, looking for the perfect smoking jacket, or studying the use of the present participle in interbellum expatriate writers, I'm busy writing poetic bits of high-sounding chicanery."
