Jan/Feb 2011 Poetry

e c l e c t i c a  
s p e c i a l   f e a t u r e


In an ongoing series, the editors, former contributors, and readers of Eclectica have been invited to write a poem containing four pre-chosen words. The words for this issue are gull, attic, trample, and metallic.

If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the new words are cowl, reveal, granite, and unfinished.

(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole poem)

Nothing Much
The waiting woman
turns on the radio, puts more blood
on to boil
Jude Goodwin


There are mornings when your loss
is a distant roar, a metallic shine
that glimmers at horizon's edge
Brent Fisk


Two Word Poems
Disintegration is my peace,
my blessed break, release.
Ray Templeton


Bear in Mind
One day you're contemplating
shades of gray and the next,
it's ashes to ashes.
Antonia Clark


I am half-ready to believe in a tidal tomorrow.
Barbara De Franceschi


Year by year,
the same small birds seem to return,
but what I am seeing are generations.
Jennifer Finstrom


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