e c l e c t i c a
s p e c i a l f e a t u r e
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 hope, walk, sugar, and sky.
If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the new words are dream, check, join, and free.
(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole piece!)
Walking Toddy to Mail a Letter
After I drop my letter in the mailbox,
my reason to get out of my place is gone.
David Mathews
I believed
only in the secular warmth of the home,
the scent of bread, divisions of atoms
Syd Shaw
they were beaten here
lost pride here
trained their little Corinthians how to love
Eric Merriweather
the frescoed rhythm of the dishwasher
scratching the three-day mustard stains
and stanch sugar crumbs on plates
Dorsía Smith Silva
My walking meditation had a focus:
Will I regret...? As I wound around
the pattern like thread on a spool
Kathleen Kirk
It's easy to look into the bay and believe
the sea offers support not found on land.
Joyce Brinkman
what is that?
the scent of sugar creation
spinning wildly in a tin
Jessica Scirocco
Someone must have dragged the table from a nearby park;
Perhaps a restless group of teenage boys,
Or some fairies hosting a garden party.
Kelly Webber
Lately your days go better when you wake up
early, get out and walk, read as if you're
drowning in it like you used to
Jennifer Finstrom
Protestors Cross the Chicago River, May 29, 2020
Hope dons masks and goggles,
climbs atop cars and railings
Evan Martin Richards
