You hear everyday – By Liam Newberry

You hear everyday

By Liam Newberry

You hear everyday
Of those who give up,
Living their lives like
Mediocre shmucks
Contributing nothing
And leaving behind
Nothing but a faded
Husk with no mind
These people, they make up
The population of cities,
Villages, towns,
Boards and committees.
Lifeless souls on a quest with no end
Working towards something
To which their arms can’t extend.
They wander, listless,
A hopeless parade
Pretending their lives
Are more than charade.
But some, some have lived,
As God intended,
Forming their lives
Beyond the pretended.… [Read More]

Reformation Reception – May Grant

REFORMATION RECEPTION

by May Cornelia Grant

 Haiku: 17 syllables
traditional Japanese format
crafted October 11, 2017:
at Central Congregational Church Lecture Series Kickoff

Greeting Asian student,
dark hair shines.

His instinct turns,
pours in MY cup!

 

The Station Waiting Room – Barry Bayon

The Station Waiting Room

By Barry Bayon

Passengers come and go,
Bags and parcels in tow.
Music through station loudspeakers soothes,
Only to be interrupted by announcement of train news.

“Attention please: Train # 1837, the 4:15 arriving from Boston making stops
in Kingston, Old Saybrook, New Haven, Bridgeport, Stamford, Greenwich”.
The announcer voice trails off only to come back on.
“Thank you for choosing  Amtrack” and the voice was gone.

People waiting on benches work their smart phones,
While others are drinking or eating alone.
Riders scan the train information displays
For the latest communiques.… [Read More]

The Train Ride – Barry Bayon

The Train Ride

By Barry Bayon

Station gleaming,
Platform teeming,
Riders streaming,
Train bell ringing.

Brakes bleeding,
Train proceeding,
Speed increasing,
Sights fleeting.

Passengers texting
Conductor ticketing
Children fidgeting
Scenery soliciting

Train slowing,
Station approaching,
Bags collecting,
Passengers expecting.

Brakes screeching.
Destination reaching.
Passengers meeting,
Friends greeting.

Ordinary Day – Anna Tanalski

Ordinary Day

By  Anna Tanalski

A butterfly’s flight draws near

And tickles my nose

With a taste of candlelit prose

Words flowing through my veins

Rhythms of a heartbeat

Stuck like the concrete on Main Street

Taught red ribbons twisted around my soul

Pulling me in one direction

A whiff of sweet confection

Galaxies beneath my feet

Ripped up pages thrown to the side

The tears rip deeper on the inside

Foggy breath on the window

I trace my name and it fades away

It’s just another ordinary day

Musings and Puzzles

All kept within my pocket

My imagination shoots off like a rocket

Paper doll strings hanging above my head

Questions unanswered

Answers unsaid

It’s just another ordinary day

Lips painted scarlet

And the sky turns to gray


Anna Tanalski is 15 years old and in 10th grade.… [Read More]

No Herrings – Ilse Kramer

No Herrings

By Ilse Kramer

The angel who lives in
The stained-glass window
Depicting the Heavenly City
Winks at the sexton
Who is cleaning
The baptismal font

He takes a walk to India Point
I mean the sexton and not the angel
Don’t you know angels don’t walk they fly
He fishes yesterday’s donuts
Out of his pocket
And feeds the sea gulls

The sexton sits on the bench
At India Point
The angel has followed
But declines the donut
Angels carry rations
Of manna

The angel says to the whitest gull
Come see me at home
The gull says perhaps
Are there herrings
In the Heavenly City
No herrings?… [Read More]

On Aging – Jan Corbett

On Aging

By Jan Corbett

There is here.
Then is now.
Dreams are memories
decayed… somehow
Life circles back
End to beginning to end,
And time shapes a womb
Again.


Jan Corbett is a retired English professor who has published two nonfiction books and many articles in small magazines and academic journals but she is just beginning to write her own poetry. Her other interests include oil painting classes at RISD’s extension campus in Barrington and participation in a local peace organization.

Spring Senses – May Grant

SPRING SENSES

By May Grant

Breeze still bitter,
Robin’s image jells like ice.

Sounds still muffled,
Robin’s music throbs a rhythm.
Homes still huddled,
Robin’s feather wafts from heaven.

Seeds still curling,
Robin tastes each worm anew.

Scents still buried,
Robin shouts

I’m Here,

I’m Love,

I’m You!

© 2011  May Cornelia Grant


May Cornelia Grant has been writing all her life, non-professionally. Her articles have appeared in numerous small magazines and newspapers.

Transfiguration – May Grant

TRANSFIGURATION

By May Grant

The ground is littered with my babies.
The dead poems lie in snowbanks,
serene and sere.

When did my words arrive stillborn?
When did my rhyme turn icy cold?
Here and there a tiny fingernail,
a turn of phrase like a rosy cheek,
a metered leg lies still.

But now they rise like dawn’s sharp edge.
The wind knocks on dark church doors.
White-rimmed and strong, my wings toss and climb.

The ground lies littered with my flowers,
white and pink and tan
raise their fingered arms to the sky,
children tall and strong.… [Read More]

Haiku to Climate Change – George Delany

Haiku to Climate Change

by George Delany

In February
No cold, no snow, a hearty
Dandelion blooms


George Delany is an artist, designer and co-instigator behind many special projects at Central Church – including this website.