Nonfiction Commons^™

D Minor, Jean Siskel

Manuscripts

With stealthy passion
The music filled the room,
Brushing with mystic melody
His throbbing heart.

Outside the stony window frames
Were trees,
Rustling excitedly,
Bowing with frantic grace.

Do trees have hearts? Can they too
Feel the stirring touch of tone?
For trees, there is wind;
For men, music.

On Nantucket Sound, Lucy Kaufman

Manuscripts

Do you recall the morning on Nantucket Sound
when white wind whipped our sails against the August sun,
when we stood tanned and laughing, loving the sea, and bound
for any port or none?

Do you recall that out from the tiny towns which lay
along the coast, came salty strangers seeking cod,
tanned and laughing as we, plundering the bay
with net and fishing rod?

Do you recall that when the west waxed pink again
homeward we turned the tiller, and as we came around
with sails set full for shore, lights flashed from a world forgotten
on Nantucket …

Dry Leaves, Mary M. Schortemeier

Manuscripts

In stealth
Stalking its prey
Winter is creeping
Groping its way.

Today
Summer is reigning.
Only the dry leaves
Show it is waning.

Too soon
Comes one final leap
For winter - for summer
Only to weep.

Today
My heart is young.
Dry leaves for me?
From mortals I'm sprung.

Flamingos, Lucy Kaufman

Manuscripts

Far through the jungle, bird cries mark night's end.
Eastwardly the sky is streaked with pink,
and near the water's edge black orchids bend
beneath webbed-feet, as white flamingos drink.

Deep among the spindling silent stalks
which border banks surrounding the lagoon
wet reeds stir, and a tall flamingo walks
infringing on the sleep of afternoon.

Flamingos showing silver in the night
fly far above the jungle toward the west,
and following a star's transluscent light
at length reach home, and white flamingos rest.

Excerpts

Manuscripts

Excerpts from additional submissions by authors: Melvin Kuebler, Richard Jowitt, Mary Elizabeth Black, Quentin West, Edward F. Wright, Margie Ann Hukriede, Margaret Dawson, Don R. Cutsinger, and Suzanne Van Talge.

Two Poems, Margaret Byram

Manuscripts

On Discovering a Book of Shelley's Poems

A portion of the feeling that once hallowed Keats
when he kenned the vast unknown
And stood, a Watcher, rapt, alone,
Came to me, a vision, swift, unbearable
In beauty scarcely born.

The joy of fusing with a master's soul,
The searching bliss of first discovery
Swept my mind, and left me tense and free,
A spirit treading the fresh-dewed grass
In early morn.

My Attitude Toward Poems, Richard Outcalt

Manuscripts

I am not interested in most poems. At one time I disliked poetry to the full extent of my ability, but as I grew up I became aware that to many people, poetry was all right. On careful consideration of this awakening, I decided that there were undoubtedly merits to poetry, but that you had to be in the mood to really get anything out of them. This mood to me seemed to signify a pale thin fellow skipping with gaily outstretched arms and fingers, romping through sunny fields of buttercups chasing gorgeous butterflies, then, tiring of this strenuous exercise, …

Credo, Mary Wiley

Manuscripts

In our sad days it is a woman's part
To keep alive the things that ease the soul,
All music and delight. It is her role
To pour out lovely songs to fill the heart
With tenderness again, and hopeful start
The hymnal in the church; amid the whole
Of dark, confusing time out of control
To sing, and let not loveliness depart.

Unfaltering faith is difficult to keep
When futile tears fall on the changeless earth
And still are dried by the recurrent sun.
Mankind may perish if its women weep
Too much, too long. We will allow no …

The Silversmith, Joe Berry

Manuscripts

The child was born unto a silversmith,
born son and grandson both of silversmiths
in the small room behind the dusty shop.

The old man stopped his pounding on his bench,
his son turned down the fiercely blasting fire
when the child was born. But when he breathed, cried
and howled, they worked again, as they had done
all morning - and as they had done
for years before, the old man and his son:
silver sculptors, bracelet makers, fashioners
of all small articles from gleaming blocks.
Now they were glad; not for two hundred years
had the house lacked …

April Thoughts In War Time, Helen E. Hughes

Manuscripts

Sonnet

Blue skies are cruelest now; immense, they bend
Over the lonely land, uncompromising,
Unconcerned, aloof. Unnatural friend!
Whose time is April when the sweet surprising
Daffodils spring up to rival such
A brave and tender blue! We who are used
To turning calm eyes skyward now see much
Of heaven that is alien and confused.
Where once we laughed into the sun's embrace,
Once welcomed friendly rain, once searched the broad
And democratic sky for Saturn's face,
And, searching, strained to touch the hand of God;
We now stand under skies that vomit fire.
Be angry at the blue …

Poem, Ardath Weigler

Manuscripts

I Ivy and jew growing in pink and blue
mugs
Mugs meant for small children
Mugs settled primly on lace doilies
Atop a spinster desk ....

TWO MONTHS LATER
II He was standing there under the neon
sign-tall, hair rough in the wind-
broken outline of glasses and upturn-
ed collar ....
Dull tap of narrow black heels on
the asphalt.
He turned as they walked toward
him, to him, past him.
Her heart did a flat-footed ballet
as she thought, "This is the end, fool."
-tugging, choking, adolescent heav-
iness crushing her breath with its
vacuum.
He thought, "She's …

Lines From The Night, Josephine Rosenfeld

Manuscripts

The vanity
of the trees leaning over the rivers
adjusting and readjusting their coiffures.

The solemnity
of the brook gliding by
laughing as the rocks tickle it.

The processional
of the moon
bringing in its trail the princesses
of the sky-the stars.

The strains
of music ascending to the heavens
carrying the heart and souls of the listeners.

The Awakening, Harriet Bishop

Manuscripts

And there I stood, a useless, living form
With roughened hands in worn out pockets pushed
And felt some force, not mine, had changed my will,
I turned my face up toward a darkened night.
There at my feet was spread an ancient world,
While high above there whirled a universe;
And far within the depths of treasured years
Strange, kindly voices dimmed the call of space.
For far below was all that used to be
While out in space stood life's futurity.

The Blind Man, Helen E. Hughes

Manuscripts

I know you as you walk among my rooms,
Your head turned thus, your shoulders moving so,
Your hands made busy with the sound of brooms,
The many little tasks that women know.
Dear brilliant lady, as you come and go,
Is light lent to my days. In you I find
A roof against the rain-let winter blow!
Look on me, love, with kindness; for my mind,
My heart, my searching hands that clasp you-are
not blind.

After Diana, Mary Wiley

Manuscripts

The clink of coffee-cups is pleasant here.
See, I have drawn the curtains fast, and shut
The moon's distracting light from our bright hearth.
Your grave brown warmth is heightened so
And I do not remember with such pain how sweet
The star's carress falls on the traveller's face,
When first he lifts it up to worship them.

The Lantern, 2013-2014, Isabella Esser Munera, Rayna Nunes, Blaise Laramee, Chukyi Kyaping, Bobbi Stone, Erica Gorenberg, Anne Rus, Dana Kluchinski, Arthur Robinson, Emily Duffy, Jane Lee, Leah Garrity, Brian Thomas, Michele Snead, Melanee Piskai, Chloe Kekovic, Kevin Moore, Codey Young, Dominick Knowles, Richard Schulz, Quinn Gilman-Forlini, Collin Takita, Amanda Sierzega, Mara Koren, Epiphany Summers, Caitlin Jackson, Benjamin Jones, Joshua Hopkins-Desantis, Rebecca Galarza, Kelsey Knowles, Aubrey Atkinson, Michael Heimbaugh, Sophie Zander, Kendal Conrad, Nora Sternlof, Henry Willshire, Elijah Kineg, Joshua Hoffman, Maxwell Bicking, Andrew Tran, Arthur Robinson, Nicolas Shandera, Grace Buchele Mineta, Meaghan Geatens, Nina Petry, Sean Dolan, Kayla Sallada '17, Sam Cermignano

The Lantern Literary Magazines, 1933 to Present

• Strikes
• Pietro di Venezia
• To the Lover of Small Things
• Jim's Big Day
• Akademiks
• Redamancy
• A Love Poem for Arctia Caja
• Mother River
• The Lyrics to Your Song
• Nerves
• Gemini Season
• White Interface
• The Last Time I Played with Dolls
• The Mechanic
• My Goldfish
• Put Down Your Hammer
• Strip
• Hollywood
• Identity
• The Grey Zone
• Sophia
• When I Became a Poet
• Unbroken
• The Veteran Aeronaut
• I Have Running Water but They had the Stars
• Not …

2014 Spring Quiz & Quill Magazine, Otterbein English Department

Quiz and Quill

No abstract provided.

The Molloy Student Literary Magazine Volume 11, Damian Hey Ph.D., Kenneth Bornholdt, Kristin Cardino, Annie Darcy, Brianne Schieffer, Caitlin Breen, Angie Elkaray, Charisma Karnavar, Joseph Ostapiuk, Ryan Roberts, Roger Smith, Lauren Spotkov

The Molloy Student Literary Magazine

The Molloy Student Literary Magazine, sponsored by Molloy College’s Office of Student Affairs, is devoted to publishing the best previously unpublished works of prose, poetry, drama, literary review, criticism, and other literary genres, that the Molloy student community has to offer. The journal welcomes submissions, for possible publication, from currently enrolled Molloy students at all levels. All submitted work will undergo a review process initiated by the Managing Editor prior to a decision being made regarding publication of said work. Given sufficient content, The Molloy Student Literary Magazine is published twice annually in Spring and Fall. Interested contributors from the …

Soliloquy At Dusk, Bob Harris

Manuscripts

Turn low the lights

Half shut the shutters

Seek out the comfort

Of your favorite easy chair

And there

In the intermingled mists

Of lights and shadows

I shall relate to you

The Story

Of Robert Lee

Flames Along The Thames, Richard H. Jowitt

Manuscripts

A thousand flames ascend on high;

A thousand voices shouting cry,

"Oh, God, why must you now deny

our homes!"

The Life Of A Pledge, Betty Lee Snyder

Manuscripts

Rush week, came, and after the whirl

I emerged a sorority girl

(Oh no-I mean a potential one--

My year as a pledge has just begun).

Two Poems, Mary Wiley

Manuscripts

Two poems: "Realism" and "Finale."

Question On A Street-Car, Jack Kilgore

Manuscripts

"What do tired-eyed people live for?

They seem to have no joy."

"They have their joys the same as we;

Be silent, little boy."

Shadows, Donald Bradley

Manuscripts

Oh silent strength

dont vanish yet.

Written On A Wet Page., Tommy O'Rourke

Manuscripts

I could spell it out

in eyelashes but the invisible

boa constrictors that spring out

from your pupils

to strangle and decipher

every scribble are too busy shedding

their scales to sound out "delicate."

(No Title), Tommy O'Rourke

Manuscripts

Distilled crystals

in the fine print.

Antidepressants, Ella Paul

Manuscripts

Sometimes

I don't believe in anything

The Body Of Christ, Bob Barrick

Manuscripts

The scent of embalming fluid

from bearing the pall at my grandfather's funeral--

She's Much More Than Cool, Earl Townsend

Manuscripts

Mussolini's in the parking garage eating Fettuccini Alfredo.

I'm in a museum eating squirrel from Philadelphia.

Sometimes I take a shower with nothing else to do.

4 Tricks To Make Her Orgasm- Askmen, Bob Barrick

Manuscripts

Her shoulder, white like a page.

Her sex; her words.