Your eyes are the
brushstroke of amber
Your skin the color
of newly fallen autumn leaves.
Your hair the shades of summer
swept across your earthen brow.
Your kiss is drawn from sea
and mountain
or Avalon plums left in a
still life to ripen.
The sound of your voice is
river over stone or tender
whispers of a rippling pond.
The hot core of stars or
cool as April showers
your touch.
The dreamers walk among us . . . and so do the dreamed.
Maggie Stiefvater — ” Call Down the Hawks”
They circle the lush verdure that lines the river, darting through and over high branches. Spotting us, they rise and swirl on the current like fantastical beasts of air and feathers, an ever-changing cloud that darkens the earth. At night they rest in the crowns of ancient trees, innately knowing that they are near their destination. Near dawn they take to the heavens again, mission bells calling them home.
art by Mary Giacomini “Old Mission Bells”
On the bank of a river
I found you wet and worn,
beaten to the silt by wild horses.
I rubbed you smooth and honed,
held you like a secret,
something sacred, a final kiss,
a cherished poem.
You slipped from my grip
Through the inlet of obsession.
How weak we were against
it’s gaping mouth.
We wanted something concrete, something to hold on to, we wanted so much to be strong.
Verlust
Am Ufer eines Flusses
fand ich dich nass und verbraucht,
groben Quarz, in den Schlamm getreten
von Hufen wilder Pferde.
Ich rieb dich glatt und blank,
hielt dich wie ein Geheimnis,
etwas Heiliges, einen letzten Kuss,
ein behütetes Gedicht.
Du rutschtes aus meinem Griff
in den Einlass der Besessenheit.
Wie schwach wir waren gegenüber
den gähnenden Mündungen der Flüsse,
wir wollten etwas Festes,
um uns dagegen stark zu fühlen.
Übersetzung: Bernd Hutschenreuther
Augbach.de
The whorl of summer
lifts the hem of her skirt
unfurling sunsets
of crimson and gold.
She festoons the earth
with unfastening coils
tight throated corollas
raw bursting blisters.
Warring birds swoop up
new born buds
unwilling to wait for
Winters red meat.
I will always disappoint you
my verse is no where near roses
pigment stained and tear smudged
overflowing with sudden downpours
a spiraling monsoon that can
not be held back with the tenderest
sighs.
I tell lies lovingly
each line a litany of devotion
or a buzzed serendipity.
I will fall in love with the sleeved
heart of every poet.
Save me from obscurity, give me a purpose
sugary rose petals or the embryo
of a pearl washed ashore.
Lennon’s fun-loving working-class parents, Alfred and Julia Lennon, married briefly and late and declined to raise their quick, sensitive, gifted son. Separated traumatically from each of them by age five, he was raised strictly in Liverpool by his maternal aunt, Mimi Smith, whose husband died during Lennon’s adolescence, as did his biological mother, who had taught him to play the banjo.
Such circumstances were not uncommon in the wake of WW11 but in Lennon they generated anger that he sublimated with brilliance and difficulty and an intense need for human connection. At age 21 he married the supportive, traditional Cynthia Powell, whom he divorced in 1968. At age 28 he married the independent, unconventional Yoko Ono, Much earlier, at age 16, he founded a skiffle band that evolved into the Beatles, the most important musical group of the second half of the 20th century.
Lennon began to withdraw from the Beatles, a process accelerated as of 1968 by his relationship with Ono, his declarative side took over. This dovetailed with the artistic ideas of Ono, a well-born Japanese avant-gardist seven years his senior. Lennon was first fascinated and then influenced by her terse, sometimes paradoxical directives, such as: “Count all the words in the book instead of reading them”
Lennon’s music became a core medium for his peace advocacy. Songs such as “Give Peace a Chance” and “Imagine” articulated his vision of a world without war, borders, or oppression. “Give Peace a Chance,” recorded during the Montreal Bed-In, became an anthem for the anti-war movement, regularly sung at protests against the Vietnam War. His lyrics often combined personal reflection with universal calls for social change, influencing a generation of listeners and activists.
Beyond music, Lennon actively engaged with political authorities and movements. He opposed U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War, supported draft resistance, and publicly criticized government policies, which led to scrutiny and attempts at deportation by the Nixon administration. L
In summary, John Lennon’s peace efforts combined public demonstrations, music, and political engagement to challenge war and injustice, leaving a legacy that inspires ongoing movements for peace and human rights.
Art by Resa McConaghy
*Britanica
**John Lennon Biography
The dance floor is filled with revelers. Their drunken laughter fills the cafe. Seasons slip away, they need something to remember.
A year has passed , still I light my candles for the window though hope fades like summer into fall.
The mirror has no mercy, a reminder of all that has passed through these hands. There is no holding back the past or what lies ahead.
As the night deepens we raise our glasses to seasons past and the aching memory of lovers slipped away.
Fabian Perez
In the portrait
she wears a coral
shawl across her
shoulders.
Terracotta lips
are set in granite.
Her eyes are the
color of the earth,
they scream the
anguish of the world.
Her image is etched
into ragged tapestry
hung from nails
on a farmhouse wall.
She is captured by the
hand of a woman uprising.
She is proud,
she is Mexico.
“Sometimes one must go on, as if nothing, as if no one, as if never.”
Frida Kahlo
When words were your only nourishment
I fed you calla lilies budding in my throat.
From the stacked shelves of your smoky library I read to you Aristophanes,
of all poets we loved him best.
In the final hours we longed for rippling fields, anything windswept, certain of life and death.
It’s my dream to visit the Blue House…Equinoxio has taken us on an amazing
tour of the former home of Frida Kahlo, the Mexican surrealist artist, who is so fascinating I
once wrote a poem about her. I may dig it up one day. Do visit, it’s enchanting
. Thank you, Equinoxio!
House of Heart 