Apr/May 2017 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 afternoon, ordinary, obscure, and spoil.

If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the new words are gallery, siren, ribbon, and uniform.

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

Almost Sonnet Begun The Day After The 2016 Election But Finished Several Months Later, With a Line From A Wrinkle In Time
Today it feels like the conference room where
I have worked since early this morning has become
its own planet
Elizabeth Kerper


When You Cannot Ask for Directions
And I want to live. And write. And write differently.
And love differently.
David Mathews


Luminous Human
This sudden invocation,
obscure and primal, calling me by way
into cellular phosphorescence
Mikaela Curry


Three Word Poems
When you feel the sun
emerge after a rainy day, there is a pressure to it,
a need.
Judy Kaber


Beethoven's Hearing
A reputation for absent mindedness
saved Ludwig from mockery
as he gazed into the distance
Bob Bradshaw


A Wednesday in April with Pigeons, Daffodils, and Broken Glass
I grew suddenly breathless, unable to explain why statues make me feel unmoored
Jennifer Finstrom


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