Cover art: Laraine Batis-Gelpi
“I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn't remember especially because the transitions from life to death and back to life are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it.”
Jack KerouacOur theme for the Spring Quarterly is, “Rebirth.”Avery special thank you to all of our contributing writers. Without the courage to share your words and work with others, our little publication could not exist.
Please find our contributors below and follow their pages on social media!
Follow @glassgatespublishing on Instagram for more announcements and future calls for submissions.
● Carla Pamal
● Tammy Cheung
● RitaTaste
● Natalie Mariacher
● Cathy Blue
● anka
● Valeri Fiorini
● Laraine Batis-Gelpi
● Kaylin Weir
● Laura Lynn B
● Zhnaqeeb
● AmandaThuy
● John Dennis David Keane
● Kari L. Moss
● Elizabeth Santaromita
● ArbenAlovic
● Rebirth
● Fresh leaf
● Homecoming
● An Ode to Spring
● BROKEN WINGS
● she waits for me
● Growth
● Shadow
● The Way
● Grave of the fireflies
● FROMTHEASHES
● universe’s daughter
● Anastasis
● Death’s Dance
● The death of colour
● Untitled
Death can only beckon those who attract it
Receiving its guests with open arms
The last stage welcomes all to the final show
That can only go on from down below
Wrapped up in silver and gold
Where the darkness hides
The light follows
Looking up at dead stars
With the brightness it once contained
Leaving only a dull flame
Such is life
We were once beings full of living
But we die as empty broken shells
Our ashes seep into the ground
And harden as a seed
Soon a flower sprouts out
Petals so pretty that they gleam
Astrong stem and bountiful roots
Delve deep into the ground
Such a flower could not be picked
For it has thorns that bring an awful pinch
It will grow and grow until the frost nears
The petals freeze and fall
Until there is nothing left at all
Only a seed remains
The cycle is the same
Carla PamalFresh leaf
Soon it will be a distant memory All the self-doubt, feelings of inadequacy
I have no way of knowing About the place I am going Whether I will still find Things I try to leave behind
But the sun is golden when I woke And in its blazing rays I soaked
Achapter in my book is done And a new day has just begun
Tammy Cheung was born and raised in Hong Kong. She is a graduate of the Bachelor of Psychology from the Chinese University of Hong Kong. Writing has always been her means to string together wandering thoughts, and through her words she hopes to liberate other gentle souls. Follow her work on Instagram @wordsintheflow
Tammy CheungTitle: Burgeon
Medium: Photography - Jpeg
Bio: Hailing from a small farm on the East Coast of Canada- Mae takes an avid interest in hip hop, unusual coffee flavours, and poetry. Her writing and photography are heavily inspired by time spent in nature with her dog, Yuri. You can learn more about Mae on: Instagram- https://www.instagram.com/maerennoe/ Blogger- https://mrennoe.blogspot.com/
after Death takes hold my Spirit will embark on a long journey to discover all that was previously Unknown it will be reborn countless times it will possess many forms until my Spirit is called to its final Home
Rita Taste is an aspiring author based out of California. She writes everything from haikus to epic fantasies and is constantly inspired by the writing of others. She can be found on Instagram at @littlebitespoetry
Rita TasteEthereal anticipation fragrantly blossoms
Vivid life bursts forth Protruding through dead Winter dirt
My own self cracks open Escaping from the constricting chrysalis And I am reborn each Spring
I metamorph into new creation I emerge exquisite I ride on the wings of endless possibility
Natalie is a wife and stay-at-home mother who recently revived her love of writing and poetry after battling a cancer diagnosis. She uses life experience, relationships, her children, her faith, and her struggles with anxiety as inspiration for her pieces. She also enjoys photography, painting with her kids, cooking plant based meals, and being out in nature.
You can find more of Natalie’s work on her instagram page: @whollyembraced
Natalie Mariacher
I had seen birds, Screaming in fear and pain, Caught up in a net, Wiggling to get free, Having their wings stuck more.
Then there were onlookers, Watching the disaster unfold, Waiting for the wiggling to stop, They knew, there was no exit, They had learnt it the hard way.
I wanted to cradle these birds
To my hollow chest, Free them from the net, Offer the safety of love.
We are one, they are me, They are you, We are all wiggling birds, Trying to break free of the net With whatever strength We have left In our broken wings.
Cathy BlueI spend a lot of time looking in mirrors not because I like what I see and not because I don’t but because I’m not sure if I know this person and if I do
I don’t know when we met she moves like I do and yet I cannot tell what she’ll do next I’m trying to get to know her but she doesn’t want to be known she hides behind bare lashes and draws dark circles under my eyes I pick at spots on her chin and she tries on five different earrings before choosing the first ones she tried I watch as she leaves she looks at me when I come back
and it annoys me that while I have no clue who she is she knows exactly who I am but I watch her and I know that she dances in the morning and watches the birds fly outside my window with longing in her eyes
anka a Norwegian poet, currently living in Tasmania. anka started writing poetry to navigate through a life with lots of grief and hardship, while also celebrating living along the way. You can find more work on @anka_poetry on instagram.
I am constantly growing.
I am evolving into the best version of myself that I can possibly be. I no longer want to be a frightened child; scared of offending people with my existence, terrified of ruining the perception others have of me. I have grown exhausted of being frightened, scared, and terrified of how others perceive me.
I no longer want to be an angry teenager; pushing people away out of fear of being hurt, snapping at those who only want to help, becoming upset over any minor inconvenience. I have grown exhausted of pushing people away, snapping at others, and feeling upset easily.
I no longer want to be an attention seeking adult; doing anything to receive affection, ignoring my own boundaries to make others satisfied, spending money as a form of retail therapy. I have made so much progress, I can’t give up now. I continue to make myself proud every day. I want to keep healing, to protect my heart and my soul.
I am starting to no longer be concerned with what people think of me. those negative, false opinions of me don’t matter.
the only opinion that should matter to me is my own.
Valeri FioriniI do not need to hide behind the shadow of timidity shadow of not good enough shadow of “imposter”, not real… Come out ofThe Shadow but do not let it leave Grasp its hands and stand with it… stay with it as its Darkness dissolves…
I raise the Shadow’s veil of fears to see there was nothing there
-no doing of me
-no being of me
The Shadow of Fear was empty, I did not need protection from myself! no longer between me & she
That cloak now lays upon my shoulders as medicine
Aradiant cape ofTruth + power + magic… no place to cover!
I still bow to the power of my source but this Cape…
ahhh this cape that was a Shadow… rises above timidity, flies me above “too much” & “not enough” This Shadow bids the Imposter goodbye
The shadow is theAlly and I am them all
Laraine Batis-GelpiI smell the air
I see the trees
Ameadowlark, fall on my knees
I catch my breath
And take my hand
Can’t see myself from where I stand
Born a baby
Born a saint
Alife, we tried to orchestrate
Around the ifs, the whats, the shoulds
And now we’re somewhere in the woods
I wish I may
I wish I might
Know my knowing shining bright
Light the way
Born anew
It’s been a journey, finding you
Kaylin WeirKaylin Weir lives in Arlington, VA, with her husband and two young girls. She is a full-time mother and part-time graduate student, studying to become a licensed professional counselor. In her spare time, which is often short in supply, she enjoys hiking, reading, and writing poetry and prose centered on motherhood, mental health, and self-compassion. Her poetry has been published in The GGP Collective and Poetic Reveries; she can also be found on Instagram @kaylinwrites.
Fallingin love with you was like digging a grave for a firefly, beautiful, tragic and unforgivable, full of pain and the light inside me dying with every waking moment when I was with you, but leaving you it was like all those fireflies came back to life and burst out of their graves like they’ve been alive this whole time just waiting for the moment to come back.
Laura Lynn B Laura Lynn B has been writing for six years and you can find her on Instagram under lauralynnbpoetry_Does Mother Earth bothered about the heat? when wildfire razed it's bossom black and barren, lush greenery stripped bare naked, scorching flame and black ash flew wicked, echoing cries in deep jungle wailing like siren, fleeting lives live in deciet.
Yet when all hope were lost, mother earth let bloom once more, seedlings that shall grow stronger, from the ashes of the old, celebrating life once more.
Zeidan Naqeeb, 19, is a young and aspiring writer from Malaysia who publishes his work in local magazines and wrote mostly on social media. He fell in love with the beauty of the English language since young and is currently pursuing diploma in mass communication in MARA Institute of Technology University. He find freedom of expression in poetry and most of his works can be found on Instagram under the username zhnaqeeb.
Zhnaqeeb
her gaze pierced straight through to the other side of the moon; there by light of moon, she swam in a celestial lagoon. the stars they sparkled in dazzling light all around, in that time and place no one else was to be found; a moment carved in time far from life's chagrin, where there were no losses and no wins.
she spent the day wading in heavenly waters, reborn as the universe's daughter. with strength of cosmos and heavenly light, she returned home full with vigor and might. darkness no longer over her took hold, she now possessed light of sun and moon gods of old.
Writing has remained a constant in Amanda’s life since childhood. She went on to study English Literature and Law. As life and career continued, Amanda never lost her passion for writing. Her work explores dark and light shades of life, personal experiences as well as fantasy.
Amanda ThuySprings temperate breath melts this icy veil
Ared plume brightens my eye
Soft white scuts prance in the thicket Flecked with green, yellow and pink
I rise between the Oak andAsh Limbs reaching ‘for the comfort of the sun
Aroused, from the long brumal gloom
John was born and raised in The Bronx and currently resides in Westchester County, New York. He was the corecipient of the inaugural Mark Plesent commission from Working Theater in N.Y.C. He is also the author of several short, one act plays that have been performed in N.Y.C. You can find John on Instagram @Jkay____
John Dennis David Keane‘bout to take flight. Had to lose it. My heart buried comfortably under your watchful eye— that “other guy” and the scenarios add up: the circumstances still, buried up hill. We laughed and we’ll laugh still, but take me to the top. Find my purpose on the map. On the road. On the back. Of a path that’s marked by gravel and sentiment. Mom hands me spearmint
I chew and chew, spitting out the loaded bubble to find your shoe.
We be grounded right?
We be grounded all night. And it ain’t my fault the ground done slid, And it ain’t my fault we be grounded in the sky.
Try the scale.Test the slide
I can’t lose weight
I ain’t never gained
You can’t speak children
Or play the Red Rover game.
Levity you’ll scoff at the opposite of brevity. Water and truth sprung like Old Faithful
Did you see that eruption from the safety of your eyes?
We’d never felt more alive or more grounded. They shot you first and I was hung, Everybody done bite their tongues.
That was more than 100 years ago when we soared above chance— 100 years to know the earth outside of death
Kari Moss is a poet and writer that lives in South Carolina. She possesses a Master’s in Literature from Eastern New Mexico University, and a Bachelor’s in English from University California at Santa Cruz. After years in higher education, she is now immersed in her passion full time, arriving on the literary scene as an emerging writing. You can find Kari at her website www.loveshouldbe.com, on Instagram: kari_loveshouldbe, or Twitter: @_Loveshouldbe.
Kari L. MossRebirth (2022), Eva Marschan-Hayes
Mixed media. Oil pastel painting, digitally modified.
The Butterfly, shown in pastel, spring like colours, is meant as a metaphor for rebirth. Two figures on top of the butterfly, guiding a soul, from the earthly to the spiritual dimension. We can also view it as the other way round.
Eva Marschan-Hayes is a neurodivergent mixed media artist and poet, based in the south of England. She creates images to inspire the imagination, exploring, spirituality, memory emotions and fantasy. You can find her on Instagram and Facebook @evas.poetic.imagery
I died a different kind of death the day you died in me. The kind where colour was drained, even from simple everyday scenes.
Days where everything was as grey; Grey as the ultrasounds of your face, The only reminder I have that you and I, we once shared this space.
Days that were red, hot with anger. Red, like the way you bled, From meSome days are still tinted that cold grey blue. But there’s a palette of colour in your sister. Sent down I wonder, by you?
Colours to drown out the greys and the blues. The heartache and broken memories, all now muted hues.
Life's colour is returning brighter than ever; Truly a rainbow, baby.
Yellow in her laughter, Rose in her cheeks, Green in her eyes. She brings colour to my weeks.
Reborn with her, In me, what died with you.
Elizabeth SantaromitaElizabeth Santaromita is a twenty-four-year-old published writer and Mum of one; studying English and Creative writing at Murdoch University in Western Australia. Elizabeth struggles with chronic illnesses such as endometriosis and adenomyosis and hopes to dismantle the stigma and silence surrounding them. Elizabeth also identifies as part of the LGBTQ+ community as a Bisexual.
Can I reach you?
If I threw all my wishes, Into yesterday, Could you catch them?
Pull them together, tight as a safety rope, To find your way, And meet me here in the future? My soul, it strains, To grab you, breath life, into who you were. But who are you now?
I wonder if, you’ll even recognize me now. Those nights running beneath, The lights of the city, Are distant. I haven’t chased, The moon since.
But this desire, this desperation, Reminiscences of now impossibilities, Always bring me to the question; Is there any way I could hold you?
Keep you, safe, from the past, Reshape, recreate, you, Arebirth, fixed from, The mistakes, of what we shouldn’t have, Ignored.
Is this wishful thinking, Hoping for, intervention beyond, Human reality.
I know the answer, But I seek ways to defy it nonetheless. To find contradictions to reality. Is this the origin of creation? The reason why, we shaped God, In our image?
Regrets held, Of those, lost along the way, Elevated to a place, Where humanity’s ending, Isn’t the conclusion, but a paradise, Where we may see, Long desires once more.
I wonder if heaven, is just, Ahope that, there is another time, Where we could say hello, once more.
“
Our dances, with the reaper, The slow steps, almost maddening, The rhythm of this sway, towards the future, Its unpredictable, frustrating, Maybe I’m not the only one, Who’s struggled with these goodbyes, That litter the path ahead. An infatuation of times gone by; Afear of times to come.
I’m broken, Traumatized, coping, Finding whatever way to keep you alive! Living, existing, never forgotten. Over and over, in my stories you reanimate! In the laughs of a Saturday night, Where your madness still calls for a round, Acelebration to your existence!
Or in these solitary walks, alone, Where I keep you beside me, recalling, What you would have said, if you could have said, Anything at these moments. You come to life, in the moments, When I can’t understand, the consequences, Of the end.
In what sign of my imagined divinity, Will I find you next?
Arben AlovicHaven’t figured out why I write, who I write for and who I hope to reach. Though if my words find their way to you, the reader, and you find something there, I’m happy. My memories, my thoughts, and my soul found in my poems are for you. Shape them, mold them, and breathe whatever life you’d like into them. I just supply the poems, but you give them meaning and understanding. Till next time, I hope you find what you’ve been looking for.”
Socials: Instagram, @December_Without_You
Based out of NYC.
