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 better, doubt, mode, and wrong.
If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the new words are run, ever, rise, and green.
(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole piece!)
Your evil friend brews himself along
with the tea bag and I stare at the horrible slideshow
of decaying faces and drink it down
Kristen Sirianni
When I was small, it was easy—
being plucked from the earth, once, twice, three times.
Melanie Hyo-In Han
On The Need For A Pinch Of Optimism
Perhaps it's wrong to be
pessimistic all the time.
D A Angelo
Sliced from pink gums like a baby woken from slumber,
you all cried and bled until both jaws were swollen.
Susanna Skelton
He drives recklessly from the sacred
grounds, gets pulled over for trespassing.
Richard L. Matta
Take your glowing emulsification, and put it straight in the oven.
Holly Payne-Strange
Quandary: I harbor doubt weather archaic or à la mode would be better, a phoenicopter than a homophone
Ellen Sander
