Here’s a pic of my poem as it appears in the entirely wonderful print journal: Crosswinds Poetry, Volume IV, 2019. Many thanks to the editors for including it in their spring issue!
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Great Expectations
My mother and I are like the hands of a clock –
she, the seconds that move my minute
and I, the minutes that move her hour.
I was born on her twenty-first birthday.
We are always walking hand in hand
between the astonished faces of
what’s to come and what has been.
This poem first appeared in North Shore Magazine (14 years ago!). Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there, especially mine!
Poem Up in “Upheavals”
More good news! My poem VANISHING POINT is now live in the “Upheavals” issue of Wordrunners e-chapbooks. Many thanks to editor Jo-Anne Rosen for selecting it. Here is another link to the chapbook content in full, where you can read some of the other wonderful writings or download the entire book for free: Upheavals
Poem Up At IthacaLit
My poem “From The Front Porch” is now live in the spring issue of IthacaLit
along with the other finalists in the 2018 Lauren K. Alleyne Difficult Fruit
Poetry Prize (which I won in 2016). I am thrilled and honoured to appear again
in this gorgeous journal. My deep thanks to editor Michele Lesko!
PS – If you go to the Home page, where she introduces the issue and poets,
there’s an opportunity to click on my picture to indicate a “like” in the shape
of a heart. But only if you like it!
7 Poems Up At “The Zen Space”
I’m happy to report I have 6 haiku and an ekphrastic poem, inspired by Lenore Conacher’s painting “Busy Time”, now up at The Zen Space. As you scroll through the Spring 2019 Showcase for my poems, please allow the other poems and photographs to take you somewhere quite wonderful… My deep thanks to editor Daniel Paul Marshall for asking for a few nutshells.
River At Night
The river behind the house at night
has so much more of a voice
in the darkness, rushing
toward the ends of the earth as if
this is the journey of all journeys.
The world I was born into has hurried
me through forty-seven years, never
stopping to place me where I belong:
I want to lie firm and wondrous in the arms
of the river, a boulder of great faith.
Then when it hands me the moon
shimmering and full, and gathers
the rippling stars in close, I am part
of a circle of sisters, sharing stories,
named in their alphabet of light.
Ask me then about ecstasy,
and I will say it runs gleaming
through the secret universe
of my body, that it calls me
home.
An older poem, first published in North Shore Magazine, and included in my first chapbook “Stealing Eternity”. And since its writing, happy to say I found where I belong.
Changed
Today a friend, old before her time,
passed by—younger, it seemed.
Losing her husband, she had lost
her footing in the world for years,
change—the stranger most feared:
hidden in dark rooms everywhere.
I was struck by her face: wax-white
and smooth, like a cupped candle,
her eyes, calm reflective pools
no longer hooded
or stoned with grief,
as if she had sunk through her own tears
to the cold bottom of that well
until it was emptied
of the one held most dear,
and stood now, looking up,
drinking from the buckets
of light that filled it.
Another older poem, included in my chapbook “Stealing Eternity”.
Love Note
It seemed impossible to love you any more
than I already did, until I saw a photo of you
I hadn’t seen before—taken from a great distance
yet still you loomed large—a jewel in the eye
of the lens.
To see the beautiful fact of yourself caught
midtwirl across a glittering dance floor
like that, lucky marble in the pocket
of our universe—my girl—where,
what would I be without you?
Thought I’d offer a different kind of love poem. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!
Dark Cupboards
So much gets lost
down the labyrinthine
corridors of my mind:
not just the great ideas
I can’t keep pace with,
nor the facts and details
distinguishing the writing
on one wall from another,
but the hoof and paw,
the hand and footprint
of lives that once ran
shoulder to shoulder
with mine.
It takes the opening
of dark cupboards,
the revelation of the shelved
shirts and sweaters,
the white wool shawl,
the tennis ball sitting
in the big red bowl and the
pink blanket still threaded
with short black hairs,
to bring the lost ones back
into my hands again,
to wring from them
the fibre and scent
of loveworn years.
Another poem from my first chapbook “Stealing Eternity”. Those were my two beloved dogs – Spats and Brandy – never without a tennis ball!
Chapbook Confession Up at Underfoot Poetry!
My essay for Underfoot Poetry’s “Chapbook Confessions” is now live and can be read here
It’s a behind the scenes look at the making of “Irresistible”. Many thanks to Daniel Paul Marshall for accepting it!
Lynne Burnett 