Ann Arbor Review

INSIDE THIS ISSUE:

Lana Bella
Deji W. Adesoye
Chris Lord
Ali Znaidi
Francis Annagu
Olajide Vincent Ajise
Lyn Lifshin
Akor Emmanuel
Duane Locke
Running Cub
Paul B. Roth
Fahredin Shehu
Laszlo Slomovits
Silvia Scheibli
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Amit Parmessur
Irsa Ruci
Elisavietta Ritchie
Alex Ferde

Richard Gartee
Robert Nisbet
Alan Britt
Changming Yuan
Nahshon Cook
Peycho Kanev
Jennifer Burd
Fred Wolven

Karyn M. Bruce


Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2016 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
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AAR history note:  in print 1967 - 1980.  Irregular publications 1980 - 2004.  As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 47 years all together....

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staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
 

Submissions via e-mail:

poetfred@att.net

 

JUST WHAT WAS IT LIKE
DISCOVERING WITH PETERSON?

                 For  Duane Locke

Tell, if you will, just what was it like,
what kind of man could create such
exact likenesses of so many birds,
so many kinds of fowl, with the care,
the clear and vivid detail rendered
within each and every portrait?

Yes, what was it like accompanying
such a figure on jaunts made to
discover, uncover, capture, when
ever possible the essences of so
many creatures of our natural world,
ones of the many populating what
once was our very peaceable kingdom?

You, too, long since become a very
dedicated naturalist, a photographer,
a poet, become an environmental
preservationist, one daily venturing
into urban wilds in search of the
common, uncommon, unusual, and
unique creatures—the fowl, the critters,
so many, wildlife often unseen, even
unknown to most passersby.  Just what
is it like to experience, to know such life
and to be able to somehow cultivate such
within so at once artistic, so complete
renderings, such composite studies?

Yes, tell us, before it is too late for
us to remember without your prompts,
without your scenes, your photos,
your words, just what was Peterson
like, what is it like to touch the soul
and come to present it so, so well?
Please, tell us, if you will, tell us. 

 

A NEW POEM FOR OUR BROTHER 
        “We do not find the meaning of life by
         ourselves alone—we find it with another.”
                      --Thomas Merton

It has only been a few short months now
Yet it seems like a long, long time….
I miss you more than I thought possible.
You gave so much of yourself to others
To me though I didn’t digest enough
At least, not as early in life as you.

Sometimes, like now, my regrets are
Several, more than I can recount.  But,
Feeling sorry just doesn’t make it now.
Hopefully, brother, you are at peace
Which you so deserve after such a long
Long suffering stretch enduring so much.

This morning as I walked the back road
And unpaved pathways moving along in
Open fields and through brush and trees,
I catch the brilliant reds of cardinals,
Watch the liftoff and winging of herons
Up from several stretched electric wires,
And notice the two small young anhingas
Gliding quietly on the pond’s surface.

Still taking in the beauty of nature’s
Delights, absorbing colors and sights
All the while finding yet more and more
To remind me of your nearly silent grace
As you lived out your pained-filled days
Always aware of the needs of others.

                

Fred Wolven, Southeastern Florida

   


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