Kim Gelinas
From the Darkness

I lift my head from the darkness A new life I seek Standing tall among the others Never again mild or meek

I ache for all that passed me by As I partied alone Pity the party theme Emotions weighted by stone

I hurt for all I didn't do I cry for all I did I yearn to soothe her Kimmy, the little kid

She grew up knowing fear She was raised by a clenched fist Her tears flowed silently Never being kissed

The silent cries unanswered "Daddy where'd you go?" He had a new family Other kids he loved so

The war went on For too many years Peace came at last But the price was her tears

Self-destruction became the way Slow, deliberate suicide Substances were the weapons Very few she hadn't tried

Suddenly the light came on The fog began to clear There had to be a better way She could hold herself dear

I'm here she screams I always was I will survive Just because

Because I am strong
Because I am wise
Because I decided to No more lies

I will see the world For what it is I will not hide my fears Off to Oz to see the Wiz

I want my heart I want my brain I want my courage Tears fall like rain

I have it all I always did I didn't see it From where I hid

I bask in the sun And play in the rain I sing like a songbird I dance on a new plane -

Kim Gelinas
The Dance

We have a dance, my dreams and I
Unscripted, unrehearsed, without choreography
Balance is the goal and action its best friend
Sorting through the many paths that lie ahead

The dance more a game of hide and seek
Dreams hide; I seek
Dreams call; I try to answer
Dreams dare; I hope to rise to the challenge

The boldness of their persistence amazes
Their screams for release are deafening
"Come" they say
"Dare, live, be"

"Wear bright colors
Sing out loud
Laugh so hard your sides hurt
Rejoice in the wonder of being"

"Paint, draw, write, create
Put pen to paper to show who you are
Color that with all the hues of life
Score it as Beethoven would"

"Don't give your voice or your power to anyone else
Own all that is yours, both good and bad
Your character depends on it
Your artistry will not exist without it"

I listen with all that I am
Mind, heart, soul, and spirit
I embrace the needs of my dreams
For they are me

© Kim Gelinas, 2003

Amanda Sue Hall
Kansas City, Missouri

Discovering euphoria
By looking into your eyes Feeling your touch
As we blend together Becoming one
Time is frozen
Emotions heightened Waking from a nightmare Into this long-awaited fantasy
Placing my once shattered heart
into your gentle hands transforming and
reviving it's pulse, color,
and every piece of me.

Wendy Green
Puerto Vallarta
Pelican Dance

I watch you watch the
sea so calmly
Then you rise, first
slowly, clumsily
bouncing on air Circling, eyes fixed as you glide now with purpose and grace
No hint of what´s to
come The sun splits my eye and in that second
You double yourself, head down
In a burst, you fall as if death has come
Only to surface, to
dance again
I laugh as my eye retains that sun-split image
Of a creature with purpose, win or lose
And wonder at your
grace coupled with complete abandonment
For it is the dance you choose

Krista Schnee, Stillwater, OK

she
alone sitting
in the sunlight
turning shifting
slowly patterns
of shadow cross
her thighs her fingers
spread following
the warm edges
reaching beyond
the blue fading
circling moving always
arriving present
here one single
moment ever
rising yes
yes
he

Laura Eileen Kjerulf
dad the metamorphosizer

black orbs of eyes, he had
small speckles of witches' crystal, black
fleafly clusters, he had
a thousand round sphere pictures on track,
her multiform, a dizzy collage echoing back,
but stretched and pinched in insecty eyes,
and she hated playing the findme matchme game in
inhuman eyes when none matched

phasor gun speech, he had
melting laser ray words that stunned, hot
defrosting sound, he had
secret weapon language, and she fought
to stand still erect with her skin melting into not
what she was but just a clear soul left
standing in her puddle, his own hot
"distorted perception of reality"

Iris Collinge
Please, not yet

Please, not yet
the time is not now
Please, not yet
for you presence here makes me complete
We bathe in the sweet fragrance of our slumber
Your warmth next to me is perfect
Please, not yet
There is still time for us to share this new morning
I prefer your feet at the end of my bed
Those boots at the door don't enjoy your ten toes
like I do
Please, not yet
Your hair is tangled in mine
Cris-crossed, meshed together
Please, not yet
The sunlight is only your dream
The time is not now

Penny Roy Fellbrich
Flying over Greenland - Note To My Mum

I see You in my fingernails
and try to Love myself
the ridges and shapes
You've etched into me
will I ever be able to file and smooth them
reshape them?
I continue to dip deep
into their valleys
hoping to venture up
loving myself more
and You
You are beginning
to attempt the same
Your ridges are deeper
their valleys and peaks
less familiar
and more frightening
to You

We go hand in hand
on our journey

Duho
by Lynn Sweeting

Here, the wild island woman oracle took her position.
Chosen at birth to be priestess of the tribe, Human embodiment of the Great Cosmic Mother whose hands
Rose from the rock, palms up, cradling a face that When she sat for ceremony, it would appear As if the Goddess spoke to them from her yoni.
The duho curved and bulged, taking womanish shape:
No straight lines, no corners; every edge was rounded
Lignum Vitae wood the maidens carved each Spring.
This sacred seat where the brown queen reclined Was not a throne, or a birthing chair, or a savage's minor obsession, but a Place for her to Become
She around whose divine neck the islands were strung.
Sat upon the duho, legs open, head flung back, the sibyl spoke In tongues that were not foreign to the people,
Telling creation stories that began with First Woman's arrival
To the iron shore clinging to the tail of a Sperm whale.
She spoke from here bringing counsel from the guardians
Of the Four Directions, and she interpreted dreams. By night a fire burned at the center of their world, And always, she was near to it, astride the chair that was
Empowered to transform her, watching the Seven Sisters flash and
Spiral across the sky, ears full of the hush of the sea, Feeding wild Cinnamon branches to the flames. The people knew the power of her divining chair,
They saw how she seemed to change her shape when sitting here Becoming a big, black bird, or a boa, or a manitee, They heard the way her stories emerged, took form and grew,
Then wove them all together like a living thing. Held up in the hands of the Mother Earth, this perch, they knew, Made her a Seer, and a Revelator, for their good.

Lynn Sweeting is a published poet from The Bahamas, and founding editor of WomanSpeak Journal: Writing and Art by Women of The Bahamas and Caribbean, volume 5 of which is soon to be released.

(A duho is a mysterious relic of the lost Arawak culture of The Bahamas. It is taught that it was a birthing chair. In this poem I propose that the Duho is a kind of divining chair where the holy woman of this matriarchal Culture sat to tell creation stories, and to connect with the Mother Goddess inrites and ceremonies. Carved with spirals, eyes and breasts, with legs that are hands that seem to rise out of the Earth to hold the chair up, the duho, I contend, was the village wisewoman's sacred divining tool.)

Today is too big for grass-seed words
sprinkled with hope-drops Shallow, dipped in chocolate, safe from the eyes of
mine
We ride and together drink up,
mouse-like in heaven
While baby blue stars flounder, we ride
Comets are children, forced from the world, spirits singing " why " and firey
Vapour trails of folks I never know in their squalid happiness, now connected
Pieces of them stick to me, put of the air, carried for days-
particles of an age-old sweep, dyed hair shafts, pierced skin
and sores picked
For every fantasy I share I see none bar one
counting tickets through rabid eyes
champing bits from lost worlds
anemone fingers and pirate-hooks laughs rushing past
Roar at Him
We ride
Meet our shaker-maker groove
soar upon him, for I can't see how to stop

Tallulah Ellender is a mother, teacher and sometime writer from England, who tries to spend more time playing and less fretting. MORE>

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