Creative Writing Commons^™

The New Girl, Angela Marie Meredith

Electronic Theses and Dissertations

The New Girl is a collection of poems in which the poet assumes a direct, unfeigned voice. These rhythmic poems cover the deeply personal to the universal and social. The body is presented as a record of experiences both good and bad. Feminist issues pertainingto marriage, work, and sexuality are explored. Whether the poem is about a personal relationship or some aspect of society, it is likely to be multi-dimensional and suggest a duality. Overall, the poems are rooted in the spiritual and attempt to relate, with holistic honesty, a sense of reverence for the impure parts of life.

5th Anniversary Edition

Bryant Literary Review

No abstract provided.

Poem Written In Revlon's "Fire And Ice" Lipstick, Marie Harris

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I secretly wanted to be the girl

you dreamed about as you stood

staring at the phone number

Palden Gyatso Comes To Town, Anne Hanley

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I always go to hear

Tibetan monks

Even though

I cannot understand

Their words.

The First Seven Pregnant Women I Knew, Jim Daniels

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were teenagers. Some kept the baby. Entered

the desert of marriage, their childhoods

mirages wavering on whispered streets.

It's Simple, Tim Bellows

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Sunday after a short stack

of blueberry pancakes, half a cup

of ginger-and-cream tea,

Horowitz In New York, Tim Bellows

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Precise blocks of keys.

He brushes them

and in the ear's inside chamber,

we hear. His fingers white as a baby. Seems the notes

beam across cold deserts-

and hidden sprigs of grass

think to nose their ways

upward, harboring a thin sense

of yellow warmth despite

the presence of ice.

Written On Water, David Thornbrugh

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The man whose smile is a whetstone

excels at kissing knives.

What does the sliced throat say

to the knife that kisses it?

Billy Moran Stands In His Back Yard, Saying His Prayers Over One Last Glass Of Bourbon, Michael Scott Cain

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Our Father, thank you for the bourbon,

for the ice cubes, for the way the color

of the booze lightens as they melt,

for the fragrance that prods the senses.

The Red Chiffon, J.T. Ledbetter

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Sleep wouldn't come, and the valium did nothing,

so he looked through the window at the man next door watching television,

his wife gone to bed after changing him.

Then he closed his eyes and listened to cars racing on Market

come back slower, looking for girls.

The Hospital Ships, Carmine Sarracino

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They might have freighted dry goods--

blouses and trousers, spools of bright

gingham-- from ports to upriver towns.

Things Pulled Off Refrigerator Doors, Charles Harper Webb

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That's me in Maui, underneath a tire-sized hat,

pointing surfward as if I've just invented

waves. There's Katie wincing on a fern-

draped ledge, splashed by a mile-high

waterfall.

After Hearing There Are Only 7,000 Stars Visible To The Naked Eye, Charles Rafferty

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With its better eyes, does the housecat

cry beneath the majesty

of 70,000 stars?

The Reverend Henry Evers Has Been Conducting A Lot Of Funerals Lately., Michael Scott Cain

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The old men are quietly dying.

Each day fewer go to the park

or the Paradise Tavern. The aisles

of the malls are less crowded.

Dawn Camping, Steven Proulx

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Night slithers off into the horizon

a canvas of ancient pastels in its wake

air is virgin

ground marks no tread

Workout, Dave Evans

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From my lofty indoor bike seat,

facing a bay window, I see a real fly

caught in a metaphorical Lake Michigan

Same Old, Mary Crow

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The same old story is different with each

re-telling. What did mother say? One of the sisters asserts her truth to the other's

incredulity-- someone has to be right.

My Grandmother's Slops Bucket, David Thornbrugh

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My grandmother kept a slops bucket

behind a curtain of blue-flowered calico cloth

tacked over the bottom shelf in her kitchen pantry,

Owl, Joe Survant

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The owl glides in

on secret wings,

silent as a leaf flush.

He knows the quick

motives of chipmunks,

the intimacy of mice.

Homage To Montale, Baron Wormser

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This morning

The hummingbird's

Pure zigzag

Surprises you.

The indifference to

The long steps

Of your mood.

The Widow Of War, Jon Mccolgan

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Before allure began to pour

out of her sore onto the floor

she stored the door to her heart's core

beneath the boards of her store's floor.

The Boys Of Night Winter, Paul Sohar

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Their puffy winter jackets lifting their

faces high above the horizon

the boys troop in from the snow

A Persistent Error, Dorinda Clifton

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My-Hundred-Year-Old Window

I live on the second floor of an old building. One room, one window. Having only one window keeps me focused on the life I can see within its perimeter.

Touching My Reflection, Michele Heather Pollock

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I peer into a mirror
of last night's rain

In A Field Near Sardis Dam, Louis Bourgeois

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Silence. A scarecrow flickers in the wind.

The corn is dead. Geese speckle the horizon,

followed by crows and herons.

Dress Rehearsal For Utopia, Karen Donovan

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We're glad they made Clear Falls.

The white rocks love the water,

the water loves its splash and brim.

The Wounded, Dave Cappella

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The one-legged pigeon understands

the loneliness of the man.

Hobbling under the patio table

behind a chair, the bird waits

for a morsel from the stranger.

In Oxford Cemetery, Louis Bourgeois

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You thought because

the trees moved

and the stones didn't

Lights And Shadows - 2004, University Of North Alabama

Lights and Shadows

Art and Literature Magazine

The Bridge, Volume 1, 2004, Bridgewater State College

the bridge

Volume 1 Staff

Lauren Carter, Editor-in-Chief
Jennifer Stodder
Kaitlin MacLean
David Mitchell
John Butler
Christina Warsheski
Courtney Smith

Jerald Walker, Faculty Advisor
Linda Hall, Alumni Consultant
Rosann Kozlowski, Alumni Consultant