Ann Arbor Review


Richard Kostelanetz
Karyn M. Bruce
Duane Locke
Lyn Lifshin
Rich Ives
Chris Lord
Anton Gojcaj
Donal Mahoney
Laszlo Slomovits
Alan Britt
A. J. Huffman
Bhisma Upreti
Ali Znaidi
Paul B. Roth
Joan Colby
Rexhep Shahu
Catherine McGuire
Michelle Bailat-Jones
April Salzano

Kufre Udeme
Jane Butler
Jennifer Burd
Peycho Kanev
Joanie Freeman
Jennifer Burd &
Laszlo Slomovits
Frederick Pollack
Fahredin Shehu
Holly Day
Serena Wilcox
Ndue Ukaj
Running Cub

Fred Wolven
Allison Grayhurst
Rose Mary Boehm
Michael D. Long
Jim Davis
Christopher Dungey
Bobbi Sinha-Morey

Jason Ryberg
Douglas Polk
Janine Canan







Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2013 Silver Grey Fox
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida

Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running cub
Fred Wolven

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     Sweating drummers
Growing so wild
     Anxious crowds
Expanding like ringworm

     Hefty hefty
Like a bunch of palm fruits
     Huge shoulders
Dancing into the sandy circle

     Smoky cloud
Drifting across the dying sun
     Human voices
Chanting their names

     Tough palms
Clashing like swords
     Heavy legs
Rooting like Mangrove

     Trickery trickery
One plunged the other down
     Roaring crowds
Lifting him shoulder high.



(For Goodive Sidney Ntiri)

Sons and daughters of Ibom
Is the taste of this Canaan so sweet
That we cease to remember our bamboo fences?
The enemies were not so strong
Have you forgotten so soon
How they brought other hands
To assist in pushing us away
But their mercenaries were not so strong?
No, you must never forget
How we left Arochukwu
That peace should reign
But the enemies pushed further
Don't tell me you've forgotten
How our warriors stood behind
To shield our naked backs
Now, where are those fences?
Where are the Mba Agwu?
Sons and daughters of Ibom
Is the taste of this Canaan so sweet
That we cease to remember our bamboo fences?



It maybe true
this house is flat on earth
but once it was the tallest of all
mansions eyes ever beheld

Fading are past and the future
but present is the master of preference
not at all must it own all emphasis
the triumph of most tomorrow
lies on yesterday

talk about it then
we must
this house shall rise again
as long as its legs and hands are intact

Don't look upon it without hope.

One more chance is
enough spark for the top
trust again in us
fragments will someday weigh
heavier than wholes

this house will stand again
new pillars are sprouting from the stump
Africa shall be great again
If the Creator will let be the world.

Kufre Udeme, Lagos, Nigeria, Africa                   

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