Legacy

Written by Michael Holland

As a boy, I used to watch my Aunt Moira
apply cream blush to the apples of her cheeks,
warming the brush, pressing it in, curious
at the ritual as she applied powder afterward,
slipping cinnamon gloss onto her lips
as she prepared for ungrateful guests
at our family’s reunion. The ritual prepared
her to smile widely and mentally, to look
ready as she crumbled,  just slightly under
mossy pressure, the weight of arguing
third cousins, the insolent criticism
of people she barely knew odious.

“When will the burgers be ready?”
“Who’s going to organize the picnic tables?”
And once again,
“When will the burgers be ready?”

“You’re stronger than you know!”
I would say admiringly, unsure of precisely
what I meant, but meaning it wholeheartedly.

My admiration multiplied as I watched Moira
do it all: make potato salad, bake a lemon
chess pie, preparing her famous marinated
eggplant, flipping those perfect burgers
on that late, hot, sticky August afternoon, causing
me to reflect on all the burger makers
that came before her: Grandma Ruth,
Aunt Allie-Beth, and Grandpa Houston. I’d
yell – “Stand tall guru!” — as she would slip
me a smile along with a coy wink, meant
for just us two, only, serving the masses:
grumpy folks who had nothing in common
except distant blood lines, and stories
of Uncle Ray, who could complete a back flip
and land on his feet at fifty-one years old
to the delight of misty children. It was in these moments,
that I’d marvel and be in awe of her salty determination
and cornflower sass, and melt into a world
of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies,
as this crystal clear memory floats into my current
consciousness of years past.

Aunt Moira passed when I was twelve years old.
We stopped going to family reunions after that,
Instead visiting my Grandma Ruth’s dairy farm
on gentle spring weekends, the smell
of cornfields palpable, but Moira’s indelible
footprints left me dazzled and speechless,
a true pioneer among women living
in moldy small towns, emerging victorious
without even a bat of a false eyelash.

Michael W. Holland received his B.A. in Humanities from Michigan State University with emphases in English, Psychology, and Music. Michael only began writing four years ago when an outpouring of words occurred, calling him to let them out.

He began in a writer’s group based on the A.W. A. method created by Pat Schneider. So grateful to have found this passion, Michael realizes now that writing is indeed a gift. He’s taken classes in the M.A. program for Creative Writing at San Francisco State University in Poetry. It was an honor to be accepted into their program.

Michael has two poems published, “Blow By Blow” and “Living Past Doubts”. “Legacy” which is featured here today is his third, e-published work. The author notes that he is always grateful for those who read his work and he appreciates it when the reader takes with him a piece of his work that speaks to their heart.

Michael Can be found creating poetry at All Poetry and Flexwriters Creative Network (FCN), he enjoys writing challenges and interaction with other writers in his genre. You can friend him at FCN, Facebook.

Opulence Drift

Written by Katharine Hemingway

Is running in our Poetry/Prose section. This really is a must read!

Katharine Hemingway Author and Artist has been privileged to show her work in many Art exhibits, Kubus Hannover Gallery in Germany as well as in Wexford, Ireland and Undercover Pages, International Hand Made Artist Book Exhibition at the National Library of Wales, Aberystwsyth. Katharine comes from a long line of artists, she is self-taught in both poetry and art. She has published a book of poetry now available titled CENTRE OF THE SPHERE. To order her book or her art email orders@katharinehemingway.co.uk Katharine Hemingway can also be found Facebook and Myspace. Feel free to friend her and enjoy her latest paintings as well as her poetry and prose.

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• The poetry post (nebraskapress.typepad.com)

M A G I C

by Tarringo T. Vaughn

I walk through this world in awe.

Tattooed sidewalks of flawed granite smothered by footprints of graffiti connecting generations of magicians give off the aroma of something amazing. There are days I wonder how we came to be. There are days I try to imagine who made the sky the perfect shade of blue on gray days of rain and who made the ocean waves the elegant force of gentle rage. I wonder how flowers came to be the scent of comfort and the symbols passion, comfort and sadness and how emotion became that great potion of transient tears connecting all of us through the many languages we communicate. Every since I was a little boy I’ve admired and been held in a sensual but rugged curiosity of how this all came to be. Maybe this existence is nothing but an illusion but an illusion from what? Is our reality really a dream or just a discovery of all the possibilities…out there?

We live inside a journey of invention.

I have come to realize that it is our minds that are magic. The processes of intelligence we exhibit is fascinating. There have been those who have cured by mixing science with healing and those who have built tombs with hands of genetic precision. There have been those who have written the history of future mankind with metaphors perfectly intertwined into the masterpiece of translation and there have been those who have imagined the technology of imagery and brilliance. But what is my magic on this wonderland? Sometimes I think it is my vision as I can see things others may ignore to see but most times I feel it is my interpretation as through my poetic understanding I am able to become a witness outside my own stanzas of existence because as poets we can be anywhere at any time; we can be many places at once and turn simple objects into complex fountains of description. We can fool the eyes with hidden meaning and hold them blindfolded with clarity. We invent through our pens and with the wordplay of endless thoughts and observations. The many questions of this world are the answers we create through the written language of magic.

***

Tarringo T. Vaughn lives in Massachusetts. His work is widely published via the internet. He’s the Founder of The Flexwriters of Poetry and SOE (Soldiers of Expression). He is the CEO of Flexwriters Creative Network- FCN and Flexwriters Online Magazine. A published Author, Beyond Rainbows and Yellow Brick Roads, American Publishing © 2010.  You can contact Tarringo at: tarringo@flexwritersonline.net

This essay,“MAGIC” From Public Journal © 2010

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Starlight Review Feature of the Week is Author, Katherine Wyatt

I have read Katherine Wyatt’s book, THE CORE OF THE ESSENCE.

I was amazed at the depth and light in this book.  I found some of the most breathtaking poetry, she’s a writer of ethereal proportions.  Having acquired her Masters Degree in World Religions and Humanities.  I’m thrilled to feature Katherine and share with all of you a taste from her book, THE CORE OF THE ESSENCE.

“Poetry really is the art of ones soul.   As word emerges from within and allows itself to flow, like paint on a canvas so is word to paper.”  -Quote by Kristine Kenyon

Like art, this is how I view her writing.

Katherine, otherwise known as “Trinity” in some writing circles was born in Pennsylvania. As she tells us on the jacket of her new book, she came from a long line of artists and writers dating back into the 1500′s.  Her Mother was a cartoonist, whose work has been published all over the world and her father, a writer, wrote in the corporate world. He started his career in newspaper journalism as a young man.  It’s wonderful to follow in such creativity.

Ms. Wyatt’s book was published this month by Publish America and is available for purchase in soft back now on their site by clicking their link.

“Look within yourself if you want to meet me”

- Katherine Wyatt

WITHIN

by Katherine Wyatt

I am the sound of the wind rustling through feathers

As the eagle soars between mountain peaks

I am the space between the last breaths of the dying

As they leave life behind for the next and grow weak

I am the gray that floats in the fog when changes arrive

Holding the potential for new choices; neither black or white

I am the eye of the storm where it is quiet and I set the its course

Yet having no motion I am the measure of the hurricane’s great force

I am the silence that the birds sing to in the night

I am the blood coursing in their veins and the will that gives them flight

I am the homeless woman on the corner whose eyes you look through

I am the dark and the light that revolve within you

I am the proton, electron and neutron at play

The saints in their glory and the one who betrayed

I am without bounds and wear time as a cloak

With my hand I spin the cosmos with one brief stroke

I am a bug on a leaf on the bamboo tree

Look within yourself if you wish to meet me

~ * ~

When I read “Within” a sense of warmth cam over me. It was almost as if I could hear the quietness, the stillness within the poetry, giving me a revealing eye into the soul of the poetess as she reflects within. Her words here have made an imprint on me.

This Review by: Kristine Kenyon

Notes about the Author:  Katherine Wyatt, aka Trinity runs a forum at FCN called The Muse every other Wednesday.  You can be inspired by her there. She has an extensive portfolio of work and it can be found in various places on the web. She can be found as Trinity at www.wordmachinist.com, www.flexwriterscreativenetwork.net – My[____] and Facebook as well.  And, last but not least you can find her here at katherinewyatt.wordpress -

Today join Kristine Kenyon as she prompts you to write “Positive” poetry in the Positively Inspirational Group at the Flexwriters Creative Network-

http://www.flexwriterscreativenetwork.net/forum/topic/201

My life is a vapor of ether

fluttering in the mist.

Thought as it is, toggles

back and forth, wondering…

Questioning universal knowledge,

mystic and divine in nature.

Secrets still yet, to be revealed

unknowing is my fate…

In the vast of Nothing

there is something to which,

I am not privy to know

and in that, I am content…

Content to allow my fate

to run its own course

between now and heaven.

And for now, heaven can wait.

© Kristine Kenyon

Kristine Kenyon, a writer and poet who is always on the look out for the upcoming and new talent whose looking for more exposure. She is linked to a community of writers and poets. Kristine may be able to help you share your work with a larger audience for greater exposure.

Read About Us at The Starlight Review and contact Kristine Kenyon at starlightreview@gmail.com to see if you can be published in the Starlight Review too!

"Spreading Wings" by Kristine Kenyon

Past Disabilities -

To New Possibilities

Incredibility

lives within me;

as I can see

past disabilities.

Viewing life

with renewed hope;

dazzling starlight

in thoughtful strokes.

Holding thoughts

captive in delight;

in secret, I was taught,

spreading wings, taking flight

© Kristine Kenyon

by Kristine Kenyon

When I wake in the morning

I begin the day of an ordinary woman,

although I’m living in a surrealist world.

The extraordinary lives within me,

yet I must suppress it some; for now

as I ready children for the world they live in.

Educating and encouraging them

to become all that they can be…

Living this simple life, being here for them…

That is what matters to them at this time.

It’s how much I am here (for them), how much I care…

This is the way my children know they are loved.

When they sleep, I roll out the world beyond,

at the tip of my fingers, as I’m writing and creating;

the birth of new life emerges from the pages….

Like a butterfly fluttering among flowering trees,

It is through the imagination of this ordinary woman

stories are born and will live on for them, longer than me.

© Kristine Kenyon

(c) 2010