NOCTURNE by Jennifer Wenn

Nocturne

With thanks to those who

saw and captured the magic

Before, when the sun slipped away

coruscating wonder and wisdom reigned above;

Hablik looked up to find earth grasping

for a whirling, scintillant firmament;

Van Gogh beheld intense, shimmering spirals

of power surmounting a sleepy town;

now, city-bound, I am greeted

by a murky veil harkening

to Whistler’s night visions, but

bleached of his delicate beauty.

Abscond, throw off time’s shackles,

escape blinding excess;

gaze skyward anew, rediscover the

painful, lost art of

patient, faithful waiting.

[…]

Dusk settles over pastorality,

crickets serenade dancing fireflies,

a dog a farm or two over bids

farewell to the sinking crescent moon

and, channeling Sappho, welcome to

the glittering diamond signifying Venus.

Jupiter, lord of the planets, is soon

shepherded in, followed by the

Martian mote cloaked in dusky red.

The first stars, Dickinson’s Arcturus

and Auden’s Vega, sparkling across

unfathomable expanses lead a trickle, then

a flood filling the sky with pointillist wildfire

slashed through by the Milky Way’s

blazing river of embers.

[…]

Breathe

[…]

All too quickly modernity searches me out,

recouples the fetters, and ushers me

back under the cataractic dome,

back to my pseudo-cave where I will

hibernate and remember,

and dream of a return.

(This poem first appeared in Beliveau Review 6)

Jennifer Wenn is a trans-identified writer and speaker from London, Ontario. Her first poetry chapbook, A Song of Milestones, has been published by Harmonia Press. Her first full-size collection, Hear Through the Silence, was published by Cyberwit. She has also written From Adversity to Accomplishment, (a family and social history); and published poetry in numerous journals and anthologies including Word City Literary Journal, The Ekphrastic Review, Journey of the Heart and the anthology Poems in Response to Peril. She is also the proud parent of two adult children. Visit her website here.

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Comments

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience. Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with. I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night. I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me slow down until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without

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