Tag Archives: #NationalPoetryMonth #ZingaraPoetryReview

“Running With The Wolves” by Bruce McRae

An hour of joy, an ounce of sorrow.
This monumental moment, in part and in whole.
I’m being touched by moonlight, so a little bit mad.
Moonstruck and nightblind. Gone the way of the wolf.
I’m lying in a loony half-light and recounting the myths,
the stories we tell ourselves in order that we might carry on.
Meaning imbued over coincidence. Memories shorted.
The past redacted and redressed, so all is calm.
You can put away those nerve-pills and quack confections.
You can rest easy. Write a poem. Go whistle.
A full harvest moon, and you can see into the darkness.
You can sail that moonbeam over the shallows of paradise.
Hang tight, my passenger, it’s full on into morning.

Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician currently residing on Salt Spring Island BC, is a Pushcart nominee with over a thousand poems published internationally in magazines such as Poetry, Rattle and the North American Review. His books are “The So-Called Sonnets” (Silenced Press), “An Unbecoming Fit Of Frenzy” (Cawing Crow Press), and “Like As If” (Pskis Porch), all available via Amazon.

Read these other poems by Bruce on Zingara Poetry Review: “Hinting at Eternity,” Making Do,” and “Stop the Clock.”

 

 

 

 

“The Road” by Carla Schwartz

The road of asphalt, still covered in winter’s detritus,
the road of lined up houses that part for a parade,
the road of school, of church, of aqueduct.

I travel the road by bicycle, by the side of the road, the shoulder,
my shoulders, a little hunched,
my thumbs resting on break hoods.

The road of large brass sewer covers,
of small round or square plates for gas, for water,
where the road dips and rises like a pillow.

The road of potholes, of layers of asphalt,
eaten away by salt,
successive thaws and freezes.

The road of roadkill — headless rabbits, flattened turtles, snakes,
sparrows, and turkey plumes spread like a headdress
in the middle of the road.

On the road, I listen, keep a watch for glass, for dips.
On this road, the shoulder narrows, then widens,
my pace slows down as I ride uphill.

At an intersection, on the road,
metal eyeglass frames, squashed and skewed,
one lens missing, the other shattered.

Carla Schwartz is a poet, filmmaker, photographer, and blogger. Her poems have appeared in many journals. Her second collection of poetry, Intimacy with the Wind, is available from Finishing Line Press or Amazon.com. Find her debut collection, Mother, One More Thing (Turning Point, 2014) on Amazon.com.  Her CB99videos youtube channel has 1,700,000+ views. Learn more at carlapoet.com, or wakewiththesun.blogspot.com or find her @cb99videos.

 

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