Ann Arbor Review


Michelle Bailat-Jones
Amit Parmessur
Steve Barfield
Fahredin Shehu
Karyn M. Bruce
Richard Gartee
Running Cub
Dejoy Robillard
Yuan Hongri
Lasz.o Slomovits
Silvia Scheibli
Stephen Sleboda
Alan Britt
Gale Acuff
Elisavietta Ritchie
Shutta Crum
Patty Dickson Pieczka

Duane Locke
Jennifer Burd
Aneek Chatterjee
Robert Nisbet
Robert Penick

Alex Ferde
Solomon Musa Haruna

Violeta Allmuca
Fred Wolven

Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2020 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 54 years all together....


Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:





The word was born at the heart just like epic stone

Here and there traces are revealed

Signs are amid the paths of a body

So, I kept the word under my skin.


The day is depending over the arms of lyrics

The night is enlightened and dressed from lightening

A poet is loading his words on a backpack

Unloads them every morning on the world’s doors.


Therefore when the dawn is gone in the kids’ eyes

Their voices gather the earth and sky

Rain is falling and words are wet on the window’s glass

The horns of lightening are shaking the clouds and the sky.


Every time the poet’s instants must be blessed oh man

The word is crowned in a fire and connects two shores

We are birds of memory under the grey capitol

And some squeaking knights of darkness.




I miss a light sparkle to start a fire
I miss my city and the voice of a sublime word
I miss a soul and a divine dream
I miss the face of stones in a blessed land…

I miss the tree of winter that suffers from emptiness
The old Oak and petals over pink rose
The old roof cracked from rain were solitude is soaked
Painted walls with carved names below.

Over the shoulders of a river are missing the sufficient stars
That appear to be waiting to waving across the shore
Muse is attracting me to write although I was not alone
Snow covered with whiteness all of a sudden is lost.

Over the rows of water and of space I listen to your voice
After the dreams I gathered the particles divided piece by piece
I saw the love brightening that was walking on foot
And muse was not escaping, nor leaving me to die…



I was sad because darkness had broken my words

Solitude was looking silently far away the galaxy in dawn

What would I do without a word where I planted the tree of verse

Day, enlighten today this night and roots just like my soul!

Every time I was empty, I called a human breath to come
Words entrusted me, but were suffering from memories of loss
Day was coming very pure with a breath and wind and a few rain drops
Time was separating in the middle just like a sparkling while hitting.

At the deck of a ship I painted with blood your name freedom
Walking through darkness while my time was surveyed
What would I do without you, only to be a guardian of words fleeing
And to empty, while escaping, the verses that were killed before the world


Night gone was an insufficient hope colored in grey
Was hitting time, but then stars begun to scintillate
What would I do without words, without a man, hope nor freedom
I trusted life when stating, that even dreams are flourishing…




Always I have thought that time was coming like a prayer
I kept it in my hands, was descending over the fingers every time
Was staying close to me in a field brightened far away
Was ascending over my shirt and turned into a wind.

Lucky fireflies were brightening the sleepy night
And the river’s water were white butterflies were descending
Darkness had dressed itself in black from the lost dream
Sweating I could not find a place for other days.

Today the time of wind part by part has vanished them completely
The views of thunderstorm surfacing just like in a movie without event
Over our bodies enlightened from an old light bulb
Night was overwhelmed just like magic from surrealistic shadows.

In the morning I kidnapped the dawn and turned off the lit bulb
Time was crawling from the wind and was cleaning my eyes with cold air
All day I fell in love with a heart that I kept in my hands
This is why I kept my soul in rays, to keep it warm.




Violeta Allmuca, Vienna, Austria (formerly Albania)


     Translator (from Albanian) Peter M. Tase, Milwaukee, Wisconsin



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