Archive for February, 2007


By Wren Fallon

(For Sharon Olds and Jackie Kay)

Poetry about

Succinct visions of
items and common
that feel extraordinary
as they course through
your veins

The thrill that tickles your gut
spreads up and down
tackling your heart
teasing your knees
catching in your throat
before it bursts forth
from the head, hands, and

A literary orgasm
as you recognize
a piece of yourself
in someone else’s

Wren Fallon has neither a website nor a blog, and that’s the way she likes it.

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inviting my muse

inviting my muse
by Sylvia C.

it’s a new moment, now
I’m sitting here
inviting my muse

asking her
what she wants of me
what she has for me
and what I can give her

she’s a sneaky lady
in all of her disguise
still only revealing herself
when I am fully ready

though she won’t
just take my word for it
i must prove to her
with an open heart
and a sincere soul

only she can tell
if I am ready

and only I can tell
when she has come

Sylvia C. lives and writes in Kansas City. Poetry and children’s literature interest her most. Sylvia also enjoys reading, going on walks, listening to music, and dancing. Click over to her blogs to learn more: and


Man at the Playground

Man at the Playground
By Harry Bernard

One would think,
in this supposedly
the sight of a man
at the playground
wouldn’t immediately
trigger fears of paedophelia.

A man is capable
of staying home and
being the primary caretaker.
Even of triplets.
It is a challenge.
But if a man can walk on the moon,
he can take care of children.
And if a woman can bear children,
she can tackle the corporate world.
Especially if she prefers it.

I am not weak
because I like to stay home
and perform domestic chores.
Nor am I emasculated.
Just ask my wife.
Just ask my kids.
I prefer to nurture.
My wife is a natural warrior.

Yet if our children are
we are both ferocious.

Harry Bernard is tired of the double standard applied to stay-at-home fathers.


Valentine’s Assortment

My Wife
By Hunter Cole

When I first met the girl who would become the woman
who would become my wife
she was laughing at something the
professor said in an American History Lecture.

I wondered how history could be so funny.
I soon discovered that she finds life delightful and amusing,
approaching it with lust and humor.

In addition to her laughter, I am enchanted by her
kindness to people, animals, objects, theories.
I awaken each day knowing I am blessed,
and go to sleep each night, giving thanks for the blessings.

Love Is

Colin Galbraith

For Fiona and Nolon
July 8th 2006

The diamond twinkle in a lover’s eye,
The knowing of hope and not of why,
The laughter, the tears, together on high,
The embrace of two hearts through fall or rise.

Love is a river, winding and deep,
Sparkling rapids and weirs to leap,
Love is the wind, the birds and trees,
Ocean to ocean, soaring and free.

Love is a mountain, the deepest hole,
A silent promise from heart to soul,
Love is a whisper of quiet devotion,
Two hearts beating in silent motion.

Love is forever – love is peace,
Love is united – love is…

Valentine Epiphany
By Luke Pierce

I realized,
one dateless Valentine’s Day
that I was happier
being with a group of
mixed friends celebrating
our friendship and shared experiences
that pretending love
in order to get laid.
Had I not made that discovery
I would not have met
my wife and have the loving
life we now share.

Best Day
By Lesley Sloane

We get to skip
The stress of Valentine’s Day
Because we share a true love
Celebrated every day.

Hunter Cole is enamoured of his life and his family in the Maine woods. Someday he’ll create a website in honor of his home state. He is a regular contributor to Circadian Poems.

Colin Galbraith is the author of several books of poetry. Fringe Fantastic: The Poet’s Experience of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, was his first paperback release and met with critical acclaim in December 2005. Brick by Brick was published in April 2005 as an e-book, as was Silly Poems for Wee People Vol.1 in March 2006. His latest chapbook, Poolside Poetry, is due for publication soon. Colin lives in Edinburgh, Scotland, with his wife and daughter.

He has a website at

Luke Pierce is learning to let go and enjoy life as a learning process.

Lesley Sloane celebrates life and love every day.


Finding Poetry in Daily Life

Finding Poetry in Daily Life
By Cecily Thyme

I’m tired of people taking poetry so seriously. It’s an art. It’s a craft. It’s not easy. It’s not something just anyone can do. But it doesn’t have to be painful.

Look at the world in which we live. Look at how much beauty is all around us – the sunshine, the trees, those little kids bundled in their winter clothes until they can barely walk. Soon, spring starts, with all of its blossoms and promise that the new life of the earth holds a new promise for all of us.

Your life is not meaningless. So you’re not rich, you’re not famous, you’re not in a glamorous job. But there are so many people just like you, trying to make it through the day. If you write about it in a way to which they can relate, you make it easier for them to get through their day, which in turn, helps you get through yours.

Even the not-so-nice stuff is inspiration. Does something make you angry? Write about it! For centuries, writers were feared because of the power of words. Grab some of that power, make it your own, and make a positive change in the world!

Every breath, every heartbeat, has the potential for inspiration, and, therefore, the potential for positive change.

Cecily Thyme believes if more people work for positive change, negativity can be defeated.


Love of a Book

Love of a Book
By Charlieyne Maguire

A book has a secret.
A secret only I can navigate.

It is a portal
to another world.

Each book
holds a world.

I feel like a goddess
capable of world-juggling

Each time I carry a stack of
books home from the library.

Whenever I choose one world
to enter, it is ectasy.

I am the ultimate

Charlieyne Maguire is a bibliomaniac.




By Jordana Jones


The wind bites

like a passionate lover.

The sun caresses

tempting me away.

The mountain teases,

daring me to . .

and, of course, I do.

The winter spirits

captured my soul

before I could walk.

When I was a tiny

little thing, tapping

the window impatiently

as the dancing snowflakes

laughed at me

on the other side

of the glass.

When I was old enough

to open the door

and run outside

I did.

Running and rolling

and laughing

in the snow.

Lovers come and go,

but winter is

my soul mate.


Jordana Jones writes about skiing and snow whenever she breaks a bone and can’t be out there.



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