Metamorpho-sisterhood

Blog Thank Yous.

The Invisible Truth was featured on this website: http://www.publicbroadcasting.ca/archive/2007_07_01_archive.html

where you can learn more about arts, politics, and policy in Canada.

Thank you as well to my readers in Reston, Virginia. Don't think I haven't noticed your loyalty.

Bubbles

Windows to the Soul
After William Carlos Williams

To stay put
and let the world
travel through you;

to grieve the loss of love
as if life itself slipped
like sand
through your fingertips
during a grave silence;

to smell the burning leaves aching
into the sky;

to feel the sea creeping
through tickled toes;

to taste the freshly baked bread
rising from chimneys
of the corner bakery;

to watch sand, thrown
in ovens red hot and congealing,
spindled around pokers,
into blown glass;

to hear sparrows calling
each other through tree
skeletons;

to see the world
through
multicoloured
kaleidoscope glasses;

this is what it
must be like
to watch the sun rise
from the highest
landlocked point in your
hometown.

by Trevor Cunnington

Electric Current "C"

Photo by Trevor Cunnington

Dusk's Numb Perimeter

A dove feather's will.

She sits in her own world, alone on the brink,

held aloft by a dove feather, will.

Satin wraps a form that bellies inner strength.

For being alone demands unimaginable skill.

Her passion's unadmired, leaving dust in the air,

If only for a moment, there was someone else there.

Her beauty deserves more than darkness' kiss;

An unfettered heart laid bare.

Born in Fountain Inn, SC on Sept. 29, 1965, Frank
Blakely started artistic endeavors at the age of 4
when his mom made him draw a rose. He has been a
photographer, painter, author and poet; baker,
police officer,waiter and marketing director.
He lives now in Dallas, Tx, looking for the
love of his life.

New Canadian Poetry: Night and Day

Night and Day
by I.B. Iskov

A whole city of night

sprouts arms in all directions.

In the private landscape

stark and windswept,

hidden, light surfaces.

With the certainty of gravity

slices of sound

signal in the blue velvet,

anchor my senses.

I float in the gray cradle

with a feeling of lightness

as if my shadow could breathe,

I am free.

My feet follow long shades of caution

this craving for connection,

this desire for shine

rises with the sun,

transports my dream into the concrete.

In this noisy neighbourhood

I want to believe something,

trace the curve of clouds,

scratch beneath their surface,

fly beyond my vision,

be a star in daylight.

I.B. (Bunny) Iskov is the Founder of The Ontario Poetry Society. She is also the Literary Judge for Early Harvest, sponsored by Vaughan Public Libraries. Her work has been featured in many fine literary journals and anthologies, including Quills Canadian Poetry Magazine, Surface & Symbol, Henry's Creature - Poems and Stories of the Automobile (Black Moss Press) and in North America Maple. She has several published poetry collections. Bunny is currently working on her second full collection of poems. She is married and lives in Thornhill, Ontario in a lovely two story house on a dead end street.

A New Chapter for The Invisible Truth

I've been in a little rut for writing lately. I know that a good cure for Writer's Block is to read. Then it struck me. If I opened this blog up as a platform for other writers to get some exposure, I would be reading good stuff, and getting unpublished good stuff out there for people like you to read. It's a win-win situation. I don't have to come up with as much content, I give other writer's exposure, and you get the variety of a literary journal rather than Trevor, Trevor, Trevor. Know that if you return, you will meet some new writers' quality material. It will spice things up around here.

P.S. Happy Pride Week everyone!

The Geography of Colour

The Capital of NOW is Aquamarine.