Jul/Aug 2005 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 mutant, polar, temple, and shrimp. Below are the resulting selected poems.

If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the new words are hemisphere, indignant, thistle, and wipe.

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


I was six before I saw he was the sunshine,
eight before I knew he was a god.
Jennifer Finstrom


Contemplation (Louisiana, 2004)
Last night we argued. I woke reduced, a kettle of soup,
kept over low flames, not far from boiling.
Jayne Pupek


Leaving the Restaurant
Shrimp shells
litter his plate,
like the empty remnants
of his bi-polar rage
Deborah P. Kolodji


Nothing Planned
Grief was lost in wild confusion
amongst weeds and growth wrecking
the sky. Everything removed
from regulation kept her from dying.
Barbara De Franceschi


Polar Bear, Shrimp Fractal, Temple Incense and the Mutant Nurse
There's a grasshopper under the desk and
my analyst strokes the run in her stocking.
Arlene Ang


Snapshots of My Brother in Asian Countries
This is my brother not caring that the Phillipines is the only
Christian country in Asia. Or that Abu Sayyaf, a Muslim
extremist group, has been targeting foreigners.
Julie King


He drops
his line and waits. I watch
from my window as he reels
back in
Carol Fant


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