Three Poems by Gordon Ferris

 

In the voice of elderly confused women in a hospital ward not sure where she is

Midnight reverie 

Where am I

Did I have a fall

At home

Mopping out the hallway

Will you sit beside me

Talk for a while

Sure Cathleen you never

Come and see me anymore.

Would you not stay a bit longer

The house is so quite

without you

Where am I

Did I have a fall

At home.

Mopping out the hallway.

Who are You

Will you sit beside me?

Did I meet you before?

Am I in Hospital

You're a nurse. ( sceptical tone)

Ara stay a bit longer

Ye never visit

Mammy misses you   so much

Where am I

Did I have a fall

At home.

Mopping out the hallway.

ARGH, NO; LEAVE ME ALONE

Will ye leave me alone

I am so alone

Cathleen why won't you speak to me

The Silence,  deafening

With your absence

If you hear me 

cry out in the night

Or talk to an 

invisible Unseen 

Or ask you where I am

And who you are 

Then repeat all

Please forgive me

This seems unreal

As if in a dream

Am I here

Am I really here

Am I   really here

Seeing

can you hear it 

when a child cries 

words they try to say 

imploring you to understand 

do you know the 

places they have been 

the worlds they have seen 

the words they have heard spoken

can you hear it 

when a child cries

that look of recognition

seeing things that 

are not there

the smile

with no source of amusement

can you hear it 

Can you hear it

When a child cries

How they copy the things 

they see you do

and look up in wonder

At the childish magic you still possess

How they wait and 

never sleep until you are home

On the Church steps

on the church steps

with sincere condolences ringing 

staring out the gate

looking for the signs of

souls departing

hoping this will be the end of hospital wards

with drafty corridors–waiting 

For consultants to have that conversation

In hushed sympathy

too many times beforeĺ

has this same song been played

ending in the procession

to the opened ready grave – covered in green  

God, I hope this is the last for now.

Gordon Ferris was born and raised in Finglas, a North West suburb of Dublin. In the early eighties, he moved to Donegal where he has lived ever since. He started writing in 2014 and has had many short stories and poems in publications including Hidden Channel, A New Ulster, The Galway Review, Impspired Magazine, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Live Encounters and Flare. He has also won prizes in the summer 2020 HITA Creative Writing Competition for his poem ‘Mother’ and was joint winner in the winter competition for his poem ‘The Silence’.

Poetry Ireland awarded Gordon a Poetry Town Bursary in 2022.

In January 2023, Impspired published his first book, Echoes, a short story collection. In December, Impspired published his second book, A Mirror Looking Out, a poetry collection, under the brilliant guidance of the late Steve Cawte.

Five Poems by A.M. Hayden

 

Full of Beans 

 

Vin is…

           

is a cup of love made from a chewed tin

            glowing with sunshine’s reflection

 

            is survival on a stick

            has a wiper blade thick lick

 

            is satin and sinew

            unconditional through and through

 

            is under the protection

            of angels and knows a resurrection         

 

especially our Lady Guadelupe,

            Lady of Mercy, Mother of Pups,

 

            is a Zen Monk in disguise,

            full of beans, and Satori-wise 

 

*Title in reference to Mary Oliver’s poem, Self-Portrait 

 

Beach Boy

 

He loves the beach most of all

There is nothing to run into, no obstacles

Just smells for miles, distinguished

Scents of kelp, brine, and jellyfish

                        in the distance

 

Nose flared, ears perked like tents,

twitching at the gull squawks overhead

Sandpipers skipping to their allegro melody

He can’t see the pelicans’ kamikaze dive,

scoop their stew of fish in fishnet bills

 

but he can feel the sun warm his black shiny coat

infinite microscopic crystals, rocks a million years old

give under his pads like earth’s memory foam

does he recognize the same stardust he’s made of?

ground coral, ocean floor mysteries

 

Vinny thinks the beach is the best

he can have sandy paws, pause to dig in his claws

Circle wherever and however he likes

because this beach has no leash laws,

                        just boundless freedom, zero flaws

 

Brave Illumination

 

Brothers from different mothers,

Vinny and Aloka walk a similar path.

 

Every day a vow of peace.

Every day a new chance for compassion.

 

Aloka, a stray from India, found and rescued.

Vinny, a stray from Mexico, found and saved.

 

“Aloka” is Pali for illumination.

“Valentin” is Spanish for brave.

 

Both survivors, both beloved,

and both would walk thousands of miles

 

to be with their people, curly tails excited and swaying,

like prayer flags waving, good dharma spread with each wag. 

 

*Aloka is the “peace dog” that was adopted by and walked with the Buddhist monks during their Walk of Peace from Texas to Washington DC from Nov 2025-Feb 2026. 

 

“Absolutely Nothing. He’s Perfect.”

 

 

What we say

each time

someone

predictably asks,

 

What is wrong with him?

Teaching Moment

 

Kids will sometimes say,

“but, look! He does have four legs!

We say, no, just three.

They point under his belly,

“right there!” they insist, “the fourth!”

Yeah, no, that’s not a leg, bud.

A.M. Hayden served as Poet Laureate for Sinclair College from 2021-2025 and is a Tenured Professor of Humanities, Philosophy, and World Religions, receiving the League for Innovation Teaching Excellence Award (2020) and the Distinguished Faculty Scholars Award (2024). She has two full length poetry collections (American Saunter: Poems of the U.S. and Old World Wings: Poems of Europe) and one chapbook (How to Tie Tobacco), published by FlowerSong Press and Wild Ink Publishing. Twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize and a River Heron Editors' Choice Winner, she lives on a windy farm with her family and many rescues including a blind, three-legged dog named Vinny Valentine and a three-legged goat named Old Man Jenkins.

Three Poems by Nikollë Loka

 

Down the Balcony

The evening shades fall aslant
towards the stairs.
Down the balcony lie the bushes,
lie the woods, the long abysses.
Down the balcony lie the quinces,
lie the apples,
the muses,
the wells,
and the waves of the Ionian.
Shade after shade, until the last hill,
fears lie down,
the shakings, the rains,
the equations
and the doubts.
Down the balcony are the winters,
are the ups and the downs.
Down the balcony are the muses,
are the lemons,
the hands,
and the passing desires,

a flight of waves that fade.

   

 

In the eyelashes of your eye

A galaxy fades into the boundless sky
of your eye.
Endlessness sends you far-
on the Milky Way now you are.
This dream that you are dreaming
connects you to me,
and I read
over your eyelashes,
and wrap myself in it
like a spider’s web.

You transform before me
into a comet approaching.
Fiery,
you burn the coldness.
And then, in the ups and downs
of feelings,
my star seeks to find a place
in your sleep.

You leave this world quietly
at the speed of a comet.
You wander
through interstellar space
and fill your eyes
with a new light.

I feel
the slowing down of time,
the oblivion of this world
in your eyelashes.

 

 

My feeling

My feeling

a windy

flood

that drowns

in your time.

A morning vision

a wanderer,

an undressed rose

from the sin.

 

My feeling

a lonely Juilette

isolated

in word castles

is waiting.

In sky shadows

in the edge of the evenings,

a muse

that injures in the soul.

 

Nikollë Loka was born in Mirdita on March 25, 1960; graduated as a teacher at "Luigj Gurakuqi" University of Shkodra; master's degree in pedagogy at the University of Tirana, doctorate in history of education at the University of Tirana.  Author of ten poetic volumes in Albanian and three poetic volumes in Italian (two of which with co-authors); included in the anthology "La Poesie contemporaine albanaise", "L'Hartmattan" publications, Paris 2024. In addition to Albanian, his poems have been published in Italian, English, French, German, Arabic, Romanian, Swedish and Mecedonian. Winner of several literary awards in the country and abroad. Included in the Lexicon of Albanian writers 1501-2001, editions "Faik Konica", Pristina 2003 and in the Encyclopedia of Italian language poets, "Aletti Editore" Rome 2021.

 

Four Poems by Tracy Lee Duffy

 

Adam’s Berg (Mulkirigala), Reclining Buddha, Jan Brandes, 1785 (Rijksmuseum)

R Eye M

The dream was so vivid I just had to call and tell you.

I don’t usually remember dreams.

I don’t have time to hold a grudge for too long.

 

Large, very large boxes were filled and slid to the outside foyer

and a man and a mover came, that I do not know.

Unlike your alternate life; they were kind

yet wayward eyes - to me

genteel. Firm, enough to take a hand and lead you out.

 

Then the rain came and you left with a black plastic bag

and the boxes remained; as I still wondered after the gentle kiss

that wasn’t a kiss, but a hug of the lips like rubbing noses.

I pushed out my belly bump like this is ransom for a “normal” life.

Collateral rather, and still so puzzled that I played with the old stereo

that you would have taken - that you may be back for. 

 

 

Stages

 

I plea, I beg, I cry. I step one foot

then upper body thru this curtain. Lights glare

shadows stare. I differ. I lean, I push one heavy drape aside

Shake my fists at technicians pulling chords.

I’m not a marionette but yet, I fall into second half

with no intermission. I resolve a decent finale. 

 

 

Walk-In

 

Closet of self for one/privacy/preservation/colors and

textures/insoles/canvassing for re-creating

It’s no secret/necessity/feminine reflection/heart protection

mending/draping body for pleasure/warmth/acceptance

Emerging lovely/calm/respected/closet of self 

 

 

Stratosphere Birth

 

Sent down as a brightening sun

Led down by far, a glistening star

One child of much endurance

One child, blessed assurance

 

Both of beauty – both of peace

Splendor, grandeur loves release

 

Nestled in my arms of nurture

Dreaming, praying of a future

These great miracles of birth

Blossom as a sunrise mirth

Tracy Lee Duffy -Tracy’s poetry reveals the essence of her female life through marriage, career and motherhood. That artistry has been a solace in trying times; like those friends that you get in touch with every so often and it is soothing, like yesterday. Teaching vocational instruction, screening newborns, assisting senior care, have provided human connections that remind her to breathe, appreciate, write it down. Published in Bacopa; Open Door Magazine; Anti-Heroin Chic; Passage; Sandy River Review; Bluebird Word; Ravens Perch; Hudson Valley Writers Guild; Poets for Peace Sunflowers Rising Anthology; SHINE Poetry Series, Fulcrum Review. More poems can be found at:

https://www.instagram.com/tracysprayingpetals/