Halcyon Days - 2019 Issue 13
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Halcyon Days Issue 13 - 2019 CONTRIBUTORS Dave Benson 5 Pas de Deux Elizabeth Spencer Spragins 4 Palettes 10 Resilience 11 Still Seas 13 Mist 23 Clouded
Dave Benson Pg 5
Elizabeth Spencer Spragins Pg 4, 10, 11, 13, 23
Ingrid Bruck Pg 12, 15, 22
Patricia L. Goodman Pg 14
Mike Lewis-Beck Pg 17
Stella Mazur Preda Pg 18, 19, 21
Ingrid Bruck 12 Taconic Waterfall 15 Dandelions 22 Earth Day Kristyl Gravina 10 Haiku Mike Lewis-Beck 17 Lilac Love Patricia L. Goodman 14 Early Morning, Winter Stella Mazur Preda 18 Steve 19 Wings of a Butterfly 21 Venice Theresa Hickey 6 Bougainvillea 7 Seeing an Encouraging Sign 8 Hopscotch
Theresa Hickey Pg 6, 7, 8
Cover © blackrabbit3—stock.adobe.com
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Contributor Bios Dave Benson lives in Madison, WI. He writes poetry in English and in Spanish, and tries to write poetry that is accessible to everyone. His poems have appeared in Locust Magazine, Yahara Prairie Lights, Halcyon Days, Bramble, and Cholla Needles. He enjoys reading at Mother Fool’s coffee house in Madison, has read for the past three years at the Madison Winter Poetry Festival, and has a chapbook, Soul Soup, available on Amazon or from chollaneedles.com.
Elizabeth Spencer Spragins is a poet, writer, and editor who taught in North Carolina community colleges for more than a
decade before returning to her home state of Virginia. Her tanka and bardic verse in the Celtic style have been published in England, Scotland, Canada, Indonesia, Mauritius, India, and the United States. Recent work has appeared in the Lyric, Page & Spine, Blueline, Words for the Wild, and Borrowed Solace. Publication updates are available on her website: www.authorsden.com/ elizabethspragins.
Ingrid Bruck writes poetry, grows wildflowers and makes jam. Finding Stella Maris, her debut chapbook, was released this winter.
She was a 2018 featured writer of Between These Shores Literary & Arts Annual and has since joined their editorial team. Current work appears in Otata, Failed Haiku, Naturewritng, Halcyon Days and Founders Favorites. Poetry website: www.ingridbruck.com
Kristyl Gravina is from the island of Malta where she lives with her husband and two children. Her work has appeared in several publications including The Door is A Jar and The Literary Hatchet.
Patricia L. Goodman is a widowed mother, grandmother and great grandmother and a graduate of Wells College with a degree in
Biology and membership in Phi Beta Kappa. She spent her career breeding, training and showing horses with her orthodontist husband, on their farm in Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania. She now lives in northern Delaware, where she enjoys writing, singing, birding, gardening and spending time with her family. Many of her poems have been published in both print and online journals and anthologies and she was the 2013 and 2014 winner of Delaware Press Association’s Communications Contest in poetry. She teaches Advanced Poetry Writing with her friend and colleague Betsey Cullen at Wilmington’s Osher Institute of Lifelong Learning. Her first full-length book of poetry Closer to the Ground, was a finalist in the Dogfish Head Poetry Contest, and was published in August, 2014 by Main Street Rag Publishing Company. In 2015 she received her first Pushcart nomination. Her second book, Walking with Scissors is due to be published in 2019 by Kelsay Books. A third book waits in the wings. Much of her inspiration comes from the natural world she loves.
Mike Lewis-Beck writes and works in Iowa City. He has pieces in Alexandria Quarterly, Apalachee Review, Big Windows Review, Cortland Review, Chariton Review, Pure Slush, Pilgrimage, Iowa Review, Rootstalk, Seminary Ridge Review, Taos Journal of International Poetry and Art, Writers’ Café and Wapsipinicon Almanac, among other venues. His short story, “Delivery in Göteborg,” received a Finalist prize from Chariton Review, 2015. His essay, “My Cherry Orchard in Iowa,” received recognition as one of the ‘Notable Essays’ in Best American Essays of 2011. His poetry book manuscript, Wry Encounters, was a Finalist for the 42 Miles Press Poetry Award 2016.
Stella Mazur Preda is a resident of Waterdown, Ontario, Canada. Having retired from elementary teaching in Toronto, she is own-
er and publisher of Serengeti Press, a small press publishing company, located in the Hamilton area. Since its opening in 2003, Serengeti Press has published 43 Canadian books. Serengeti Press is now temporarily on hiatus. Stella Mazur Preda has been published in numerous Canadian anthologies and some US, most notably the purchase of her poem My Mother’s Kitchen by Penguin Books, New York. Stella has released four previous books, Butterfly Dreams (Serengeti Press, 2003); Witness, Anthology of Poetry (Serengeti Press, 2004), edited by John B. Lee; From Rainbow Bridge to Catnip Fields (Serengeti Press, 2007) The Fourth Dimension, (Serengeti Press, 2012). She is a current member of Tower Poetry Society in Hamilton, Ontario and The Ontario Poetry Society. Stella is currently working on her third book, Tapestry, based on the life of her aunt and written completely in poetic form. Tapestry will be hopefully be released in the Fall of 2018. A native Bostonian, Theresa Hickey is a free-lance writer and a life-long learner who is a published poet with two chapbooks, Raising the Child and Sighs of a Gracious Nature; a third is nearing completion. She writes about love of faith and family. Her most recent published works appear in New England Memories and NatureWriting. Also, Faith ND (Notre Dame) has published “Words” and Naples Magazine awarded “Golden Days” an Enny Award. Numerous other poems have appeared in newspapers and journals, including The Naples Sun Times. She is the mother of two sons and two daughters and especially enjoys spending time with Mike-her husband of 53 years; Katrina, Caela, Nina, Vera, Ben and Annette—the grandkids.
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Palettes
By Elizabeth Spencer Spragins gradients of green blend beneath the sapphire sky within this woodland a yellow-throated warbler colors silence with her song ~Pisgah National Forest, North Carolina, USA
fotosdenada—stock.adobe.com
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Pas de Deux
By Dave Benson A pair of sandhill cranes, in pure sunlight and sweet smell of spring, dancing a playful courting game, under the spell of spreading wing flapping prancing skipping, cavorting about as if laughing, circling each other, closer and closer, step by step, till beige feathers and necks caress, separating in the green grass grazing, then to repeat again and again their joyful ritual— Oh, nature’s grace amazing! What ruffling cloacal fantasy in duet of red-crowned ecstasy! Kirsten Wahlquist—Stock.Adobe.com
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Bougainvillea
By Theresa Hickey Arrays of flowering fuchsia meander along the vines of a garden trellis up, down, across wide arches your grandeur is displayed Observing your magnificence is a magical experience truly, I should convey to you the admiration you deserve, but . . . Often I am preoccupied and unforgivably do not notice so, flamboyantly you vow you’ll have none of that from me! Charmingly you engage me spill magenta blossoms freely, artistically, around and about my feet Seductively beguiling until I lift my gaze to eye you no shy ways would apt describe you Bougainvillea!
Image by Hans Braxmeier Pixabay
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Seeing an Encouraging Sign By Theresa Hickey
A towering stone wall lies beyond the hedges of my garden imperfect arches, centuries old jagged shapes, rounded edges hewn to fit other stones above, around, below;
It must have been arduous work to create-months of a mason’s toil. Between crevices, mosses have grown; here and there an occasional wild flower sprouts–from my window I watch as one turns her fuchsia face towards me; tossing about, she whispers almost audibly in the swirling wind: “Even here a bloom can root.” This lone flower seems to welcome spring, makes me breathe an unexpected sigh and believe that . . . all my children will survive my feeble attempts to teach them they are strong
Image by Manuela Efthimiadisa | Pixabay
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Hopscotch
By Theresa Hickey BeGiN BeLoW
EnD
Continuing the game I decide to surrender
To the sudden urge To stay awhile and play
13. On one foot returning to the beginning
11. Rain is forecast for the morning And fearing all their script
12. May be washed away I pick up my stone 10. Never wanting to go indoors
8.
9.
I stop to jump into and out of Rectangular blocks they connect
I played this game for hours When I was young 7. A Dog.
5.
6.
Smoke swirling and
Something that resembles
4. Arrows, houses with Picket fences, chimney
2. I watch my neighbor’s Children, who, with pastel chalk
3. On the pavement Are drawing hearts and 1. Heading to work, I have spring fever
BeGin HeRe
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lola1960—Stock.Adobe.com
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Resilience
By Elizabeth Spencer Spragins unexpected frost sparkles on the weary wood— buds on a bare branch swell with promises of pears in the fragrant April rain ~Fredericksburg, Virginia, USA
Aygul Bulte—stock.adobe.com
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Still Seas
By Elizabeth Spencer Spragins cerulean skies glisten in the looking glass— a sea of bluebells sweeps across the forest floor and stones sink into silence ~Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden, Richmond, Virginia, USA
gb—stock.adobe.com deagreez—stock.adobe.com
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Taconic Waterfall By Ingrid Bruck
The waterfall sat beside me, we talked three hours getting to know each other. When I got up, she tagged along following me through the hollow. Her liquid voice on rocks burbled soft as moss. She harmonized with the bird chorus, sang a lullaby through my open window, blanketed the crescent moon and stars. She smelled the lilacs on the lawn, lily-of-the-valley in the garden, hugged the vegetable seedlings, threaded the labyrinth to its center. Her broken open whiteness walked everywhere in Pumpkin Hollow.
Trevor Parker Photo—stock.adobe.com
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Mist
By Elizabeth Spencer Spragins a maidenhair fern lifts her face to morning mist— the fragrance of rain walks lightly through this woodland on slippers laced with diamonds ~Tongass National Forest, Alaska, USA
Image by Wild0ne | Pixabay
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Early Morning, Winter By Patricia Goodman
Snug in wooly coats, saucer magnolia buds wait with perfect patience. Against a streaked blush sky bare bald cypress trees stand stoic beside the pond. Southern magnolia leaves shine, even in weak sun, looking ahead to summer, when their blossoms’ intoxicating scent crawls into memory, to softness craved but seldom allowed, even to ourselves. Footsteps on cold ground echo the hollow carving its way into bones, the deep knowing that life passes by, in spite of desire to grab and hold it. Every branch, every bulb in this world, suspended in winter stupor, looks forward to warm sun, to the next chance to be themselves, to unfold at last.
djama—stock.adobe.com
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Dandelions By Ingrid Bruck unmowed yard silver bubbles float on grass the wind sleeps heavy rain pours drags down tattered orbs stems plant seeds in dirt
Prochalen—Pixabay.com
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Haiku
By Kristyl Gravina spring is arriving as soft showers start to rain sparkling drops of joy
Nadezhda Pakhomova—stock.adobe.com
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Lilac Love
By Mike Lewis-Beck Waiting for the rain, to water all our dreams. Our dreams –so new –just us two, dancing slow where the lilacs grow. Petals pink, pink and white, kissing in the fading light. We huddle in the sheltered night, waiting for the rain. At the train station we knew, You for me and me for you. You flashed a springtime smile, while I waited for the rain.
I raced down the railroad tracks, grabbed your back pack, even stole your snacks – Hey babe, no way I could relax! Waiting for the rain, to water all our dreams. Our dreams –so new –just us two, dancing slow where the lilacs grow. Now the rain drops tap our tune, a lilac love song, over the moon. Hearts beat crazy, our minds go lazy, waiting for the rain. Patrick Daxwnbichler—stock.adobe.com
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Steve
by Stella Mazur Preda They met at a dance introduced by mutual friends Immediately she knew she would love this quiet unobtrusive man knew that one day soon she would be his wife Until he met Annie Steve enjoyed occasional outings to “play the horses” Later solitary long walks — white shirt sleeves rolled up always wearing a fedora He adored his Annie she a go-getter he much more laid back opposite forces yet would always pull together
Perry Correll—stock.adobe.com
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Wings of a Butterfly by Stella Mazur Preda
Dreams turn to reality as daylight wakens Annie — this is her wedding day Tears momentarily grip she is alone — no one to share her happiness no parents to give their blessings family oceans away A knock startles Annie to the present her bridesmaid, best friend enters preceded by an armload of flowers Bride and Bridesmaid make their way along the street Annie’s dress of finest silk, clings to her shapely figure a gift from her love — like the wings of a butterfly a long veil of gossamer netting softly flutters in the breeze St Mary’s Church stands at the next corner where her love, her life mate awaits …
tanacha—stock.adobe.com
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© Igor Luschay - stock.adobe.com
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Venice
by Stella Mazur Preda Centuries-old architecture monuments to antiquity shear the water’s edge; crumbling tributes immortalized by artists and writers. Flavours of Venice seed the air beckon tourists to taste her delights. Gondoliers regale travellers with tales woven through time and generations Sleek gondolas manoeuvre the labyrinth of murky channels, ancient canals intricate as the souls of people who love Venice
gaukharyerk—stock.adobe.com
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Earth Day
By Ingrid Bruck Old man world with a blue-green face. You’re a sun sated star studded rock heavy water hugging ancient one. A space traveler heavenly ballerina. A circle runner who never gets dizzy. A time spinner of endless dimension. A time tripper life font life erupter and life ender. Oh whale path maker and life spinner, we humans are but an eye-blink in your existence. Old father we honor and thank you for exquisite life.
red150770—stock.adobe.com
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Clouded
By Elizabeth Spencer Spragins a single ripple stirs the liquid looking glass where my daydreams drift a pair of cotton ponies sails the silence out to sea Deep Creek Lake State Park, Swanton, Maryland, USA
sakura—stock.adobe.com
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Inhale the spring. Inhale new life. Inhale halcyon days!
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