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 long, west, moon, and news.
If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the new words are build, ground, hungry, and light..
(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole poem)
Seven Degrees This Morning
winter does this to me, buries me in waves
of seamless dismay
the death of society was held softly in the hands of a child
who wanted to turn it into something sweet, some soft art of love
school is my god—
an easy exclamation for a girl from a godless home
Short Days Long Nights Cyclical Annual
i tell you it has not escaped
me how worship sounds
Airport Motel Haibun
Planes fly over that never seem to land.
Winds seem to never blow in from the west.
My amore's eyes this evening shine
with glints of the half-risen moon
Stephanie L. Harper
We didn't stay at Roy's Motel because money didn't grow on trees.
Nights, my father found a churchyard and slept on the lawn.
The Fallen Caryatids
It seems so long
since you left Chicago in darkness and it isn't