Ann Arbor Review


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

AAR history note:  in print 1967 - 1980.  Irregular publications 1980 - 2004.  As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 47 years all together....


Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:



Bold migrants’ autumn exodus,
leaving Pembrokeshire’s hedged fields
in hope of open land’s dominion,
an impulse shared, through centuries,
in tough seasons, by labouring families.

The heart, the hearth, St. David’s head
undulates, cathedral in its hollow,
and is green. But the families, seeing only
a calendar of crusted provender,
saw too the hope of big and reaching skies,
the temptation of elsewhere.



Boyhood and bees.
Being stung, yes. Several times. Painful.
Later, knew several bee-keepers, and once
a friend was stung by an angry swarm
and nearly died. Temperature 105.

Biology came next, in Pooley’s lab,
the learning about the honey gatherers.

Poetry then, the mystical thing,
John Keats’ murmurous haunt
(which was flies, I know, not bees,
but it’s the ambience we felt for).

The memory of summer teens,
cycling down to the beaches,
past hedges’ banks piled high
with August odours, sounds of bees,
the promise of seventeen and health
and the girls waiting.
A lot of myth to recollect.
Got stung a few times too.



Robert Nisbet, Haverfordwest, Wales, UK





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