Poems submitted for the 2018 Fusion Poetry:Art exhibition at Bank of the Arts in downtown New Bern, NC. Artists can chose the poems to inspire their artwork here. Click "Exhibition" below to find out more.
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Graduation by Jo Ann Hoffman
“Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.”
-Mary Oliver
“Why I Wake Early”
I take a moment first
to watch the rising of the day
across the pewter tray of ocean at my feet.
Purple sky to mauve to coral sky to pink,
and then the moment hung with tension,
the breath of day drawn in and held
to wait the shot of gold
that turns its promise to resolve:
orange burnt to red, soon
thick with dauntless yellow.
My coffee and the moment have grown cold.
Inside, I rinse the empty cup,
grateful for beginnings.
Now watch me open wide my door
and walk into the whiteness of the day,
ushered by the colors of a life —
your life or mine.
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Late October by Jo Ann Hoffman
In a cheeky parody of spring
one undefeated daffodil
blooms beneath my window,
glistening with early frost.
Startled, then inspired
by her yellow courage,
her brazen backward fling
with warmth and light,
I applaud her brassy challenge
and join in her denial
of coming chill and looming dark.
I would do well to safeguard the soil
of this wise little teacher
who knows each wintry cup she drinks,
like every daily death I die,
is filled with golden promise.
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Death of the Rainbow Star by Jo Ann Hoffman
Since 2013, many varieties of colorful sea stars (starfish)in the Pacific Northwest have been attacked by a strange wasting disease. Research continues, but millions of the beautiful creatures have vanished.
They melt.
Their lovely limbs
dissolve to paste,
fall off
one
by-one
They wave
red and purple arms
across Pacific beaches
in distress —
then wait
until the sun
bleaches them to white
dries them to dust
feeds them to sand
They wait
for the flood tide
that crawls between the rocks
when the moon is full
to find them where they hide,
greedily gather them up
and carry them back to the sea
where they vanish
one
by-one
We grieve
for their loss of craggy shores
small sandy hidden coves
and cooling fingers of salt-sea.
We mourn
the death of the rainbow star
whose gradual wasting away
reminds us to mourn for ourselves,
for the times we will find
that color has gone
from our lives.
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“This Exact Moment” by Pam Desloges
with Josie, who will die. (I do not know that now). I hold my face against her fur, feeling every atom of her softness. And, knowing that she will die, savor this moment, because I know, and do not know that she will die.
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“My Friend’s Gal” by Pam Desloges
I went to pick up that gal for him, Him just being out of jail. She wasn't much willing. It took a .45 to get her in the wagon. She was crying, I was drinking. The horse made its way through the mud, Her pretty dress all spattered. I shoulda felt bad. But you do for your pals When they ask, Even in the dead of a winter night. Anyway, it was something to do.
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“BEAST” by Pam Desloges
Music soothes my savage beast, But does not tame it. It picks its feet up, Snapping sharp-nailed fingers In time within me. Grinning. Sometimes I glimpse its eyes In a mirror. I whirl to confront it And it split-seconds sidesteps My sight. Its grin – sharp – Cuts me within. By strength Garnered from despair, I have Cast the beast out many times, And felt triumphant. But then it crouches, Just outside me, Watching. I feel it: Its patience, Its life, Its breath. When I am weak and wanting, It leaps and pierces into me. It sighs. And sighing, Circles within me, Making its soft place to sleep. Then slowly lowers its weight Onto my heart, Keeping it warm.
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“Illumination, In Spite” by Rory Hutchens
The only gift I would receive would be from the flash of a bottle against- still. Still. A mouth full of teeth is a blessing after a night like this. I know. But when does it really become the truth? When does it sink into my skin? After the body caves in? After I wipe the spit from my chin? It was an accident, sure. Say it louder. An accident. An accident. Louder- Lord, I'm so sorry, it was a crime scene. One moment, a shrine of ecstatic movement; the next, clammy palms clawing against whatever the world left breathing. Whatever this place wanted of me. The worst of it is this: I flinched. As always, no strength left for the spoils. Nothing stolen. It was already lost. My love, bring me your starving, your rotting. Bring me your empty bottle, your wide eyes. God, how strange it must be to breed so much horror and fire just to kill this tenderness inside me.
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“Yes, or No?” by Kate Swyers
Yes, or No? I let myself get pulled Beneath the undertow. I hold my breath, And I forget to swim.. I let myself drown and begin again Anew. But the same old questions haunt my days And they taunt me in the night. No matter how many heights I leap from, Seeking flight, The ball and chain that I am connected to Drags me down, Slamming my heart first, into the ground. Shall I speak, or should I just keep my Tongue held tight between my teeth? Would that, then, keep the peace? Would it even be okay to let my words fill up the air around us, or would it just create a denser fog? I don't know all of these answers. I seek them - But I cannot find them within The labyrinth I've built inside my own mind.
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“A Beautiful Face” by Kate Swyers
A beautiful face can not make a man stay; nor can a beautiful soul, either. You can wish, beg, or plead.. but don't. They will always have a plane to catch, a car to drive away in, or even their own to feet will carry them away. Don't hold on tightly to those already gone.
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“I Used to Fill my Mouth Up” by Kate Swyers
I used to fill my mouth up with hazy excuses for you, letting my words spill out to all those who would listen Almost a year later, i'm still fanning the smoke out of the way, trying to see the truth. It took me a long time to see clearly; I had to dig my way out of a grave, that I used to call home. Honestly, I'm still picking dirt from my bones. You felt no remorse when I died - i'm pretty sure you felt victorious with each inch I was lowered Though, to my surprise... I found my way back up, only to see my gravestone, spell out the truth - "Here lies a fool who was used."
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“True Beauty” by Ronald E. Hignite
Today I looked into the sky And there before my eyes, I saw true beauty everywhere. What a great surprise! I saw white dazzling clouds And could not look away. They simply took my breath On this truly gorgeous day. In the sun they seemed to sparkle. Everything about them was aglow. The whitest white I've ever seen! Such beauty from them did flow. In time these clouds departed, But others came along. These too were just as stunning So I kept looking on. I'm glad I took the time today To gaze into the sky For there I found true beauty In the clouds that floated by.
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“The Sea” by Ronald E. Hignite
Let me journey to the sea And feel that peace within. Nowhere have I found it From other places I have been. The waves keep pounding on the shore. Oh what a sight to see! They make sweet music to my ears And form a melody. The music never stops Even when I go away. I'm glad it waits so patiently To play again for me one day. As the waves flow in and out, Whitecaps catch my eye. They glitter from the sunshine, And their beauty makes me sigh. I sense a never-ending strength In the waves now in my view. I guess that's why I've come along For my own strength to renew. Soon I will be going, And the sea I'll leave behind, But as I go I'll take with me Its reflection in my mind.
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“Spring” by Ronald E. Hignite
Exploding colors Formed from God's majestic hand, The beauty of spring.
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“Sepulchres of Self” by Kelsey Burroughs
Meet me at the graveyard, where the air is goosedown Lilies of our memories respire, weighted with murmurs of dew Through faded silk flowers and tawny sandy clay We can traverse liminal space, witness death’s promenade Try to find ourselves among the masoned angels Surrounded by moss, inundated with the sweat of perdition Sacred ghosts of the black wrought gate will let us through But if we want to come out on the other side unscathed Swear not to taste the milk and honey of the blood Leave the flowers sleeping where they lie Let a vestige of the Universe sing you a shadow listen closely as the lilies sigh and the dew dries
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“Mori” by Kelsey Burroughs
"human" is too much thus i retreat, exhausted to rejuvenate underside of fingernails dirty with blue clay my arms are to the elbows in mud, if only i dig deep enough - seep my body in swamp - i might grow (moss)
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“Old Derelict” by Alice Osborn
My wheels, scuffed and half-buried in the split blanket of grass, circles of time repeating, like my owner's circle on his left finger; pale reminder of a lost commitment. His cake-yellow hands no longer grip my steering wheel after parking me next to the barn seven jobs, three states ago. We built carports together in suburban D.C. for one car, four-person families where summer's humidity vacuumed choked air and winter's glass iced cracked roads. I remember him splicing wood, sanding planks, a Winston between his teeth. Tool belt slaps against the tailgate as he fumbles fickle nails in my bed. Imagine he creaks home to a singlewide trailer - mildew traces the last rainfall along the siding, and PBR cans form a Tic-Tac-Toe pattern in the chain-link fence. I stare ahead, sleep to the crickets in the Chatham County twilight, missing his voice, light like rain, yet smoked with whiskey and dust.
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