Ann Arbor Review


Ali Znaidi
Silvia Scheibli
Richard Gartee
Deji Adesoye
Shutta Crum
Solomon Musa Haruna
Alan Britt
Fahredin Shehu
Laszlo Slomovits

Robert Nisbet
Gale Acuff
Rekha Valliappan
Fred Wolven
Aneek Chatterjee
Alex Ferde
Michael Lee Johnson
Jennifer Burd
Running Cub
Duane Locke

Helen Gyigya


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 53 years all together....


Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven


Submissions via e-mail:



a redondilla for Gerry

He is a child of the solstice.
Born on the cusp of the season,
carrying in his hands reason
stolen from winter’s high priestess.
He is a lushness in the heart,
a greenness that can’t be staunched,
the light of many summers launched.
He is the flight, the sting, the dart

that pierces day and sweetens night.
And I? I am a child of fall,
of death’s approach, of winter’s call.
I am his darkness, he——my light.


     (a poem in terza rima)

The customer is always right.
Or so, I always thought—
until this happened late one night

returning something Mom had bought.
Said, Manager, “I see . . .”
When I’d explained perhaps I ought

not dress myself so pink-i-ly.
The man—he was polite.
He bowed and answered civilly,

“Another pair just might highlight
your style, your joie de vie.”
I squealed out loud when I caught sight

of what he held so prettily.
“Perfect,” I cried. “Oh, yes!”
I tried them on—laughed heartily,

then gave them both a big caress.
I bought them for a song.
That week, I wore my pink prom dress

and plaid high-tops into the throng.
But Mom was right—her photos prove
at times . . . the customer is wrong.



Shutta Crum, Ann Arbor, Michigan


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