NOVEMBER POETRY

Stephen Elliott, Pearl Ketover Prilik, Denise Janikowski-Krewal, Holly Day, Richard Luftig

Thoughts On The Clydeside

By

Stephen Elliott

 The patch of grass

Between the river and the road

Is a haven.

Granting peace,

Not by the idle ebb of the Clyde,

Nor by the bellied laugh of youths.

Not by the gilded autumn leaves

That flitter, fond of some fair breeze

As we proceed to harvest thoughts on

Heaney, Sidney, Spenser and Shelly.

Not by that enchanting chorale that

Swells along the river, unrestrained,

Unchained; winged and soaring heavenward

To seek a true, untarnished chord

And brushing soft our eager ears

Does briefly lift our hearts to virtue.

This dash of green upon the grey:

An ultra-urban sanctuary,

Not by the moss-made cushioning,

Nor of the vacant fear of rain

But by the golden voice

Of a friend.

Poets’ Prophecy

By

Stephen Elliott

I have been enraptured.

My allotted die has been cast.

Sweet chains encapture me,

Fettered for eternity –

Blemished so as to be,

Scoured so as to see –

That which holds tight defines me,

Comforts me, seizes me

With fits of anger, sorrow, pleasure,

Spotting God within the heather,

Winking Death from ropy tether.

I am a poet.

Words contort me,

Leaping out from luscious lea,

Forever found within the sea

Until the sun does scorch our surface;

And even then some sovereign wordsmith,

Steeped and enamoured

And fathered by eloquence,

Will find significance

In a solitary flake of

Feather-ash.