melissa davis

October 26, 2014 Comments Off on melissa davis

“A Poem”

Blank notebook pages wait
Beckoning
A yellow pencil taps
Nervously
A solitary body sits
Meditating
Tense hands pause
Wondering

An open mind wanders
Searching
Nerve synapses snap
Finding
Inspiration Arrives
Fulfilling
Loose fingers type
Poetry

“The Wind”

A whistle
A whisper
Something did pass
A gust
A gasp
Hair and fur twirl with time
A swish
A swoosh
Trees way yet stand tall
A holler
A howl
Animals give way
A pulse
A purr
Pause, silence

February, 2014

February 26, 2014 Comments Off on February, 2014

Please enjoy our winter issue of Inner Art Journal. Several new poets have joined us while those that you may have come to know continue to share their jewels. The poems will be posted over the next several days.

Leslie, Nelima and Esra

exciting news for our poets

December 27, 2013 Comments Off on exciting news for our poets

We have a few announcements to share with you. Valerie Rosenfeld, one of our frequent contributors, has had several tanka accepted for publication by the Bamboo Hut. You can find them here: http://thebamboohut.weebly.com. One of our editors, Esra Sarioglu, has had poetry accepted to Ardea, http://www.ardea.org.uk and A Hundred Gourds: http://www.haikuhut.com. In addition, one of Esra’s works will be included in an upcoming anthology. We so pleased and proud of our authors!

On a different note, Ava Burton is offering a collection of essays on pottery: http://www.amazon.com/Potters-Journey-Four-Essays-Artists-ebook/dp/B00GU2BA3S. The collection is for ceramic artists and art lovers who would like to explore both technique and perception.

Featured Poets 1.1.2012

January 1, 2012 Comments Off on Featured Poets 1.1.2012

allie marini batts

I never wore a wedding band

nonetheless

my ring finger feels too light

now that we are no longer

married

allison miller

noticing how I

get caught

in my own web

I marvel

at the spider’s feat

anne tourney

a forgotten lake

retreating from the valley

left its name in the sand

along the empty basin

where I make a fragile home

anthony ward

I’m spending my time

trying to keep up with it

forever falling short

ellen pratt

stopping myself

before I regress

flashes of blue and white

blue jay pulls up just in time

to miss my windshield

eric muller

he waits as she cleans

dreading when she’ll stop to talk

about what happened

a finch bumps against the window

and falls dead out on the deck

jane blanchard

How I envy the marsh

accepting and releasing

whatever flows its way

season after season

year after year

joan mcnerney

an outdoor concert

which is sweeter, the flute

or bird song in the woods?

kevin hogg

Dusty children hack earth with shovels, sticks, property stakes.  One saws at a problematic root with a pilfered steak knife.  Dirt tossed carelessly from the void.  Silent concentration, broken occasionally as gritty, negligently tossed particles are spat aside.

Carefree afternoon

China can’t be far away

Knee-deep but gaining

kileen gilroy

She taught me how to catch a firefly

using a glass and small hands

sitting on swings at dusk

I remember now

how good it felt to be next to you

holding light

laurie dehamer

I am becalmed

in the middle

of a lake

my boat

filling up with tears

mamta madhavan

eyes hold

silver trinkets

unsold

on racks

fridge magnets lie

in stacks

but my

hands pick you a

blue eye

michelle russo

every smile

frozen in time

we never see

the outtakes

of our somber selves

sara backer

At the mowed margin

of a dying field of corn

I spot the pointed

black ears of a kitten

crouching in wet stubble

sebastian rimehaug

stalk-still

buried in spray

heron douses its beak

hitchhiking

for fish

susan hogan

You speak the softest words by heart,

So soft I cannot hear-

Then look up at me with a start,

You speak the softest words by heart.

Your face is coming all apart.

You cannot hide the tears.

You speak the softest words by heart,

So soft I cannot hear.

tom clausen

a little red

begun in the crown

of the maple…

that reserve of love

I still have left

valerie rosenfeld

 I dreamed

I remembered

how to fly~

what freedom

to challenge gravity

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