Poetry Winter 2014 fiction all issues
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Debbra Palmer
Bake Sale
& other poems
Ann V. DeVilbiss
Far Away, Like a Mirror
& other poems
Michael Fleming
On the Bus
& other poems
Harold Schumacher
Dying To Say It
& other poems
Heather Erin Herbert
Georgia’s Advent
& other poems
Sharron Singleton
Sonnet for Small Rip-Rap
& other poems
Bryce Emley
College Beer
& other poems
Harry Bauld
On a Napkin
& other poems
George Mathon
Do You See Me Waving?
& other poems
Mariana Weisler
Soft Soap and Wishful Thinking
& other poems
Michael Kramer
Nighthawks, Kaua’i
& other poems
Jill Murphy
Migration
& other poems
Cassandra Sanborn
Remnants
& other poems
Kendall Grant
Winter Love Note
& other poems
Donna French McArdle
White Blossoms at Night
& other poems
Tom Freeman
On Foot, Joliet, Illinois
& other poems
George Longenecker
Nest
& other poems
Kimberly Sailor
The Bitter Daughter
& other poems
Rebecca Irene
Woodpecker
& other poems
Savannah Grant
And Not As Shame
& other poems
Michael Hugh Lythgoe
Titian Left No Paper Trail
& other poems
Martin Conte
We’re Not There
& other poems
A. Sgroi
Sore Soles
& other poems
Miguel Coronado
Body-Poem
& other poems
Franklin Zawacki
Experience Before Memory
& other poems
Tracy Pitts
Stroke
& other poems
Rachel A. Girty
Collapse
& other poems
Ryan Flores
Language Without Lies
& other poems
Margie Curcio
Gravity
& other poems
Stephanie L. Harper
Painted Chickens
& other poems
Nicholas Petrone
Running Out of Space
& other poems
Danielle C. Robinson
A Taste of Family Business
& other poems
Meghan Kemp-Gee
A Rhyme Scheme
& other poems
Tania Brown
On Weeknights
& other poems
James Ph. Kotsybar
Unmeasured
& other poems
Matthew Scampoli
Paddle Ball
& other poems
Jamie Ross
Not Exactly
& other poems
Danielle C. Robinson
A Taste of Family Business
After grace, the head of the family squared her lap.
Using her semi-wrinkled, mahogany hand,
she selected the silver from the left of her plate.
She scooped and sliced the first servings on China.
Then she softly smiled while politely passing the collards
to her first daughter who is sweeter
than her plate of yams and southern tea.
Her only son is the chicken out of the group that
stirs up home-made laughter to choke up every soul in their seat.
Patiently waiting, the new generation
sat like macaroni and cheese until their turn.
Over the savors of spices,
the variety of cuisines dished out silence
followed by a series of traditional “Mmm mmm good!”
First chance, the first cousin sang a hymn;
The second cousin proposed on bended knee;
and the third cousin sat pretty in pink—
announcing the development of a new edition.
By this time, joy was dancing in circles—
limiting water the opportunity to feud with blood.
Then the head of the family spoke
of the past to connect with the future.
The strength of her voice sprinkled wisdom
and tough love with blended whole truths.
Then her sister displayed her buffet of sweetness.
And they were all gravy and well served.
Notes of the Day
This time.
Eyes didn’t go probing for water.
This time.
Stems hid and petals too.
But, it found roots.
Not by the bay,
but gradually sprouting at window.
PITTER, patter.
splash, SCATTER.
Creating musical notes as it fall side by side.
Pinging from the sky to pong the Earth.
Obstructing objects with showers
to satisfy yesterday’s thirst.
PITTER, patter.
splash, SCATTER.
Feeling of the cool and calm pelting me—
as it alarm others with rage in avenues.
Gifting some peace cupped by tea.
Enticing laborers the fancy of sleep.
PITTER, patter.
splash, SCATTER
Next time,
Eyes will hear the sun.
Birthstone
I am from a city of pain,
where few fathers neglect their daughters.
Broken sons are often slaughtered.
I am from the “All American City.”
A home, somewhat quite bold and witty that
centers a market house that stocked and sold slaves,
and the 82nd Airborne—salute to the “Home of the Brave”!
A history of indigenous cultures steered
and speared by the rear of Cape Fear.
Best interest in spring?
Honeysuckles and dogwoods—
plant fresh scent of precious moments of my childhood.
I am little gardenia in queue—
raised on Gardenia Avenue.
Streets over, eyes squint and zoom
before I enter my pink and white bedroom,
Drugs sold and women occasionally auction their souls.
“Don’t leave without permission and be careful”, Momma always told.
I am a pinched carat straight out of coal,
in between hidden smiles and tortured souls,
that barely diffuse “Thank You”—
in the mist of the city’s troubles and midnight blues.
I am from a legacy of struggle—
where doubt politely invite life to crumble,
generations of corruption and abuse,
spirits high off booze and drug residue,
slight education and lack of motivation,
extreme colorism and degradation,
family values shredded by grudges
and overdue monetary value.
Here, the birthplace of my genome,
Polished-upand shine for the city I call home.
Every Night Forever
Over burning candles,
sweet wine kissed our lips
as a chilly breeze circled us.
The sky owns no moon tonight
as our hands practice constellations resembling l-o-v-e.
Behind the taste of laughter,
warmth tickles our hearts.
As our eyes think of a dance,
we extend hands to confirm yes to:
Care for me to be the skyline with you?
Care for us to be those portraits in motion?
Care for me to be that jazz breathing in your ear?
Care for us to glow together for the rest of our lives?
May She Rise
To Dr. Maya Angelou
Above in the sky,
glistening over the lives of millions,
may she rise.
Hoisted proudly in the wind,
flaring and flapping freely
in the honor of all people.
may she rise.
Uncaged, fearless, and melodic
with peace and hope under her wings,
may she rise.
Uprooted from oppression,
stemmed with elegance,
and of blooming beauty,
may she rise.
Fleeing cocoon,
dancing freely,
parading in majestic colors,
may she rise.
Like a soulful mezzo-soprano over an African drum,
joy to the world,
the words of a prayer,
a heart inhaling love,
and a spirit flown into heaven,
may she rise!
Danielle C. Robinson
, a North Carolina native, is the author of A Slice of Purple Pie and the forthcoming poetry book Words I Should Have Said Before. She is a graduate from North Carolina Central University. She loves to dedicate her time to scientific research, writing, painting, African dancing, traveling, community service, and listening to music.