Anthony Watkins, Poet, Stellar Showcase Journal ISSN 1911-1827

Stellar Showcase Journal
ISSN 1911-1827

2006

Fall Issue

Contents

HOMEPAGE

Editor
Welcome to the Fall Edition

Stellar Showcase Journal
News

Federation of Poets
Tracy Repchuk, Pres.

ON Poetry Society
Oshawa Branch Mgr

Call for Submissions
Stellar Showcase Journal
   Poetry
    Short Stories
    Articles
International Fame Radio
    Poetry Show

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Articles
*Getting Your Poetry Out
There - J. Graham Ducker
*Listen To The Music -
        Marjorie Ludlow Green
*Thoughts on Writing -     Carolyn Manning
*Start Your Own Local
Poetry Group Stella Ducker
*Writing, Talent or Market-
ing? Fiona Jean McKay

Short Stories
Blue Moon -
   Rachelle Arlin Credo
Colourful Thoughts -
J. Graham Ducker
Lucy - Stella Ducker

Poets
Anthony Watkins
Cendrine Marrouat
Charles Frederickson
Christina Ann Amie
David Laffler
David Trame
E. W. Richardson,
Howard Camner
Jay. C. Hershberg
Jennifer Baker
Jim Greenwald
Keith W. Saunders
Sandre Clays
Sandy Hiss
Toni Calvello
Tracy Lynn Repchuk
Vicki Samson

Publisher
Hidden Brook Press

Can You Help?
Canada Cuba Literary Alliance

Chapbooks
Publish Your Chapbook
More Chapbook Info
Layout & Design

Anthony Watkins—Poet, West Palm Beach, FL

Fourth generation Mississippian, Floridian for twenty years. Published in M.A.G., Erosion, Poetry Superhighway, published Scene/Abundance from 1995-2002.
Anthony currently host the Night Heron Poets' Reunion site at: http://www.myspace.com/nightheronpoets

Must Have Been a Three O'clock Moon

After a good night's sleep
I awake at five a.m. to find
A cantaloupe sliver of a moon
Shiny silver in a quiet black sky

It sits about twenty degrees
Above the ocean in the eastern sky
As I admire the beauty of its solitude
I am struck by the sadness

That my cancer causing friend
Will so soon replace it
Must have been a three o'clock moon
Rising for four hours of glory

And while it's pale crescent will remain
As a wispy white ghost against
The brilliant blue morning
By noon it will go mostly unnoticed

So I sit and watch, it and me alone together
In a world of peace and quiet
That will end in the bustle of a weekday
Where even I will forget this perfect moment

As the day overtakes us both.

In My Yard

I sit at the patio table listening
To the trains rumble by a few blocks away
And watch the weekend flyers
Soar out over the ocean

Yet the stillness of my solitude
Is only broken by a tight rope walking possum
Who scurries by twenty feet in the air
On the back yard power line

I wonder at its ability to move at speed
On a small wire stretched between poles
And wonder even more at the thought
Of how it gets on and off without dying a smoldering death

As the glass of water collects beads
Of distilled vapor and puddles on the glass table
I sit in my yard and watch the world
Of man and beast pass before me

I wonder if any of it notices the silent man