Sipping Raindrops

By first light, we would
Taste rain in the wind
And watch clouds putter
Into frowns between sprinkles
We might even catch the moon
Pale and naked in his nightclothes
Either up too late or too early
For bed, suspended in the blue
Powder blush of daylight
And later, long after dusk
We’d delight in the peace
Of a colorless night lulling us
Into slumber hammocks
Until the moon would return
To chase us inside with his bright
Beams of confidence, flooding
Rooms through open windows
Like bold interrogation lights
sisters looking out window on a rainy day

I am an artist, hospice nurse and fiction author of two published novels, The Permanence of Waves and When Color Fades (LangMarc Publishing 2011/2013). Cien Pamieci, the Polish translation of When Color Fades was published by Proszynski Media (2013). My poetry has been published in Verse-Virtual poetry journal (2017) and by Transcendent Zero Press in Harbinger Asylum magazine (summer 2017). Sipping Raindrops, is from my collection called Raining Pears on Sunday.

Photo by Lane Erickson


It was so beautiful,
gleaming huge and iridescent
gold and green and blue and black.
With wings that should have been clear,
filled with shining rainbows
not like this, twisted at strange angles
and dulled with sticky silk.
Not stuck there waiting
to be prepared for some spider’s supper.

I held it gently
and took it from the web.
I carefully removed the sticky silk
and saw the rainbows sparkle as they should,
saw it’s eyes brighten and gleam
with the prospect of freedom.
It took a while, this disentanglement,
a delicate task to free this fragile creature.

And when it was ready,
I opened my fingers and
let it fly away.
It bit me then.
No parting kiss,
but a bite that
left a bruise.
Such gratitude!

By Lynn White

brown dragonfly on twig

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. Her poem ‘A Rose For Gaza’ was shortlisted for the Theatre Cloud ‘War Poetry for Today’ competition 2014. This and many other poems, have been widely published, in recent anthologies such as – ‘Alice In Wonderland’ by Silver Birch Press, ‘The Border Crossed Us’ and ‘Rise’ from Vagabond Press and ‘Selfhood’ from Transcendence Zero – and journals such as Apogee, Firewords Quarterly, Indie Soleil, Midnight Circus and Snapdragon as well as many other online and print publications.

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Photo by Dave Marks

Ineffable Whisper of Introspection

In the quiet of the early morning,
Walking with my horse before
The sun climbs to the high heat
Of a summer day,
I step through the
Ineffable whisper of introspection,
Weaving along my own path of thoughts,
Both miscible and immiscible, wondering…

Where does the field of waving grains start and
the trail of dark ants end?
Where does bird song start and
The sweet smell of ripening figs end?
Where does the glow of sunrise start and
The sound of hoof on packed earth end?
Where does the taste of rose petals start and
The touch of thick mane on fingertips end?

When is it time
To simply turn to the lodestar and acknowledge
The harmony that connects all the senses?

By Heather Gelb

White horse watching sunrise

Heather Gelb grew up hiking through the Colorado Rocky Mountains. She feels most fulfilled leaping from hilltop to hilltop, as she writes in her recently published memoir about her spiritual and physical journey from the heart of Africa to the heart of Israel, Hilltop to Hilltop. Her poetry has been published in such diverse works as Poetica Publishing, Stepping Stones, Jellyfish Whispers, Deronda Review, Green Panda Press, and Dead Snakes.

Photo by the author

Lyre Birds

Well above the boulder-lined mountain creek,
the tangled profusion of vine and tree,
the spreading glory of strangler fig,
the remnant cedar’s towering beauty,

where the mountain steeply slopes,
where filtered sun casts a dappled light
where tall trees grow from leaf-littered ground,
stop for a moment in hushed delight.

Two young lyre birds cavort and display,
practising for some more urgent time
their dance, spread of tail and joy of song
with beauty far beyond the power of rhyme.

Their tail is two curves of yellow and black,
enclosing silver gossamer wisp
as delicately coloured as dew-filled web
or wind-blown sea mist.

This glory they arch over their backs,
graceful, delicate, surprising long,
then dancing a quick, little, staccato bob
pour from their throat liquid miracle of song.

Mimicry of diverse forest sounds
in effortless beauty from their throat pours-
kookaburra’s laugh, whip bird’s soar and crack,
king parrot, rosella and many unknown more.

Hush! The vault is blue, white and green,
there are ethereal slants of light,
great supporting buttress columns of trees,
and a choir praising in unrestrained delight.

Walk quietly away from this pure moment.
What you have seen is sublime.
Your heart is full of gratitude.
You sense a glimpse into the divine,

For on that on that mountainside
with effortless grace these small birds raise,
without tuition or much thumbed page,
their hymn of beauty and praise.

By Neil Creighton

close up of a lyre bird

Neil Creighton is an Australian poet whose work as a teacher of English and Drama brought him into close contact with thousands of young lives, most happy and triumphant but too many tragically filled with neglect. It also made him intensely aware of how opportunity is so unequally proportioned and his work reflects strong interest in social justice. Recent publications include Poetry Quarterly, Poeming Pigeon, Silver Birch Press, Rat’s Ass Review, Praxis Mag Online, Ekphrastic Review, Social Justice Poetry and Verse-Virtual. He blogs at

Watch and Listen on YouTube: Sounds From The Lyre Bird – David Attenborough – BBC Wildlife

Photo by Susan Flashman