Ann Arbor Review


Bilall Maliqi
Duane Locke
Eddie Awusi
Silvia Scheibli
Amit Parmessur
Lyn Lifshin
Juan Hongi
Shutta Crum
Peycho Kanev
Fahredin Shehu
Lana Bella
Laszlo Slomovits
Abdulrahman M Abu-  yaman
Elisavietta Ritchie
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Keith Moul
Aneek Chatterjee

Tom Evans
Robert Nisbet
Paul B. Roth
Alex Ferde
Alan Britt

Richard Gartee
Karyn M. Bruce

Ali Znaidi
Running Cub
John Grey

Jennifer Burd
Fred Wolven

Helen Gyigya

Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2018 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida

AAR history note:  in print 1967 - 1980.  Irregular publications 1980 - 2004.  As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 51 years all together....


Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven


Submissions via e-mail:




      On the wild rocks I watch periwinkles,
And cuss ships, my foes since you left the land.
I croon to the wind about our first kiss
      On the wild rocks! I watch periwinkles
Slither like waves that soothe me with their bliss.
Why did you have to flee and leave me cold
On the wild rocks? I watch periwinkles,
      And cuss ships, my foes, since you—left the land.


A Psalm

 Come on, make me your dough and devour me;
     Whip me with the travel lines of your palm,
The muddier, murkiest it can be.
      Come on make me your dough and devour me.
Despite your barbaric, will I won’t flee;
      I’ve learnt to make you my satanic psalm,
Come on! Make me your dough— and devour me!
Whip me with the travel lines of your palm!


The Ghetto Girl

These shacks look pretty, pretty safe and snug.
She must have gone out; how I miss her glow.
Whose little shack this is? I think I know.
We all need to give up on our ego
The way I gave that ghetto girl a hug.
Whose little shack this is? I think I know.
These shacks look pretty pretty, safe, and snug!



Amit Parmessur, Quatre-Bornes Mauritus, UK



Ann Arbor Review   |   Home    |   next  |  previous  Back to Top