E. W. Richardson, Poet, The 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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Subscribe (print issue)
e-mail list (updates / news)

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

E.W. Richardson—Poet, Columbus, OH

E.W. Richardson is a former Marine and Vietnam veteran, editor of Distant Echoes, a literary journal and author of “Through Smoked Glass” and “Cascades”. Raised in Kenton, Ohio, his work can be found in a variety of print and electronic publications, such as Niederngasse, California Quarterly, Voice Magazine, The Circle, Quill and Parchment, The Sidewalk’s End and Erotic Tales. E.W. Richardson won two writing awards from the Combat Correspondents Association, Best News Feature, 1976 and a Best News Story, 1978 and is the creator of the soliloquy and storyteller forms of poetry.

Ode to the Inner Child

(Soliloquy 5)

Through my window, now decorated
With borders of frosty filigree,
Snowflakes dance wildly with no place to be
Creating views of sharp contrasts and soft textures.

Inside, I watch with a smile and warm heart
As past memories gather to greet the new,
Mingling and replaying impromptu
And planned moments of life’s delicate joys.

Earlier this day, like a child,
I stood face upwards, catching flakes
On my tongue, a simple thing lost when time overtakes
Simplicity with so-called maturity.

But do such things have to be put aside?
Where is it written that childish ways
Have no place on adulthood’s cumbersome tray
Of overcooked reason and under-done dreams?

Personally, I prefer a life decorated
With imagination and reason in textures
Woven into the fabric of the heart
With bright knowledge and colorful joys.
I refuse to abandon my inner child
To implacable maturity.
I accept and will not put aside
Responsibility, but will not discard my dreams.

Forever Near

(Storyteller 3)

Across the water, a sax is blowing
Smoky notes and red embers of desire…
In my mind’s eye, I can see the sax-man,
Sweat running down his face, eyes half closed, lost
To all but the rhythms of his soul,
A song of lost love and love found again.

Within the willows, the moon lays, listening,
While among the lily pads, stars conspire
Playing peek-a-boo, as only stars can.
Under a sweet, magnolia tree, crisscrossed
With moonbeam and shadow, two lovers stroll
Sheltered from the wind, kissing now and then.

With a sad smile, I wish them well, then turn
Wishing I could be sheltered from a wind
Of dark eyes and bittersweet memories.
It’s a heartless wind, fanning flames, which burn
Replaying each touch, each word in a whirlwind
Of glory days, never again to be.

To the sax, invisible frogs keep time
As my feet lead me to where she now rests…
In the shadows, I talk to her with tears.

Finally, sheltered from the wind, I climb
Again into the sun at her request…
Though she is gone, she is forever, near.