GAS Featured Poet: Arvilla Fee

 Arvilla Fee has been published in numerous presses, and her poetry books, The Human Side and This is Life, are available on Amazon. Arvilla travels with snacks, and her favorite quote is: "It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” ~ Henry David Thoreau. Website: https://soulpoetry7.com/

The Way You Waned

 

So round and full were you,

a beaming smile

upon your face,

 

the kind to wine and dine

and cast your light

around a room;

 

your gravity pulled me,

a tide so high

I lost myself

 

until you grew thinner,

then thinner still,

a mere razor

 

I could no longer hold

lest it leave a scar.

Middle-Age Monotony

 

creaking like an un-greased porch swing,

each bone protesting forward movements,

too stiff

too sore

one foot in front of the other,

one hand caressing an aching hip;

why do bodies give up so easily

when the heart is still throwing confetti

like it’s New Year’s Eve?

GAS Featured Poet: Dominik Slusarczyk

Dominik Slusarczyk is an artist who makes everything from music to painting. He was educated at The University of Nottingham where he got a degree in biochemistry. His poetry has been published in various literary magazines including California Quarterly and Taj Mahal Review. His poetry was nominated for Best of the Net by New Pop Lit. His poetry was a finalist in a couple of competitions.

 

Tiny

I am tiny like

Stars shining

In summer skies but

When people

See me

They think I 

Am tiny like

Flies in cold drinks.

Whispering

I will whisper a

Song about

Starlight surfing on

Rippling ponds.

Bored people will

Hear me but

Their sight is

Stale and wrong.

I will whisper about

Apples amongst apples.

They are small and

Ripe and red

And green.

They belong in this song.

Whisper with me.

Whisper about

Wind shouting at trees.

 

GAS Featured Poet: Craig Kirchner

 Craig Kirchner is retired, and thinks of poetry as hobo art. He loves the aesthetics of the paper and pen, has had two poems nominated for the Pushcart, and has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels. After a hiatus he was recently published in Decadent Review, Hamilton Stone Review, Wise Owl, Chiron Review, Dark Winter, Spillwords, Fairfield Scribe, Unlikely Stories, The Main Street Rag and several dozen others. 

 Passed

 

 

We rushed up from Jacksonville,

cop in Emporia said 95

was not the speed limit, 

said I was a threat on the road,

after he had driven across the median 

with a spotlight in my eyes.

My Dad had gotten a ticket in Emporia.

 

4 AM, we got there

he was on a morphine drip.

Mom let me spend some time alone,

I don’t know if he could hear me,

but I told him the story about the ticket,

I thought he smiled,

and then he was gone.

 

Hurricane Floyd made a funeral

a challenge, carrying the coffin

could have been a disaster.

They offered to postpone, Rofie said no.

I threw my suit away, when it was over,

my thought was he wouldn’t 

have had it any other way.

 

Remembering him years later,

is like wandering empty, endless doors

of no hellos, good-byes.

The holidays seem haunted with hurricane 

savagery, reminiscent of his sense of humor.

The doorbell rings, no one’s there,

ever since Dad died.