Halcyon days 2017 issue 8

Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 8

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Halcyon Days Issue 8 - 2017 CONTRIBUTORS Elizabeth Spencer Spragins ........................4 Sled Dogs Daybreak in December

Mary Ellen Gambutti ..................................6 Winter Haiku

Anna Kapungu ............................................7 Senses of Rhapsody

Elizabeth Spencer Spragins

Mary Ellen Gambutti

Alexa Findlay

Valerie Ruberto

Joan McNerney

Carl “Papa” Palmer

David Benson...............................................8 Snow Geese

Alexa Findlay ..............................................9 In The Heart of Town Young and Single

DJ Tyrer .............................................. 10, 15 Haiku Sea, Sky and Mist

Gregg Dotili ............................................... 10 Newborn

Darrell Petska ...........................................11 Weavings

Valerie Ruberto .........................................12 Paradise

Joan McNerney .........................................13 Winter Solstice

Linda Imbler ............................................. 13 Winter Solstice Presents

Carl “Papa” Palmer ..................................14 Shadow Lake Snow Snakes

Matthew Harrison

Ken Allan Dronsfield

Ingrid Bruck

Ann Christine Tabaka

A. Elizabeth Herting

Matthew Harrison .....................................14 Winter Sun

Ken Allan Dronsfield ................................ 16 Sting of a Snowflake As the Wind Howls

A. Elizabeth Herting .................................17 The Quest

Ingrid Bruck .............................................. 18 Invisible Angels

Ann Christine Tabaka .............................. 19 Winter at Daybreak Ode to Spring

© Romolo Tavani - stock.adobe.com

Halcyon Days Magazine ISSN: 2291-0255 Frequency: Quarterly Publisher | Designer: Monique Berry

Contact Info http://halcyondaysmagazine.blogspot.ca Twitter: @1websurfer monique.editor@gmail.com

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Daybreak in December

By Elizabeth Spencer Spragins snow-dusted dogwoods warm their fingers by the fire as daystar kindles diamonds hidden by the dark light woodland paths with wonder ~Sky Meadows State Park, Delaplane, Virginia

Sled Dogs

By Elizabeth Spencer Spragins ten powdered muzzles tunnel through a wall of wind on unbroken trails glazed with frozen diamond dust booted paws pursue joy ~Fairbanks, Alaska

Š PHB.cz - stock.adobe.com

Elizabeth Spencer Spragins is a poet, writer, and editor who taught in North Carolina community colleges for more than a decade before returning to her home state of Virginia. Her tanka and bardic verse in the Celtic style have been published in England, Scotland, Canada, Indonesia, and the United States. Shades and Shadows, a collection of her bardic poetry, is scheduled for publication by Quarterday Press in winter 2017. Updates are available on her website: www.authorsden.com/ elizabethspragins.

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Š Zeferli - stock.adobe.com

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Winter Haiku

by Mary Ellen Gambutti

Christmas is coming!

In the woodlot, snow crunching.

We cut spruce branches.

Wintertime baking scents: nutmeg, ginger and spice fill our home today.

© PublicDomainPictures - Pixabay.com

© Mareffe - Pixabay.com

Evening fire roarsGingerbread and mulled cider warming hands and mouths!

Wind has drifted snow against porch stairs and black trees.

Meringue frosting comes to mind.

© PublicDomainPictures - Pixabay.com

© tuomaslaatikainen - Pixabay.com

Mary Ellen writes about her life as an Air Force daughter, search and reunion with her birth family, her gardening career, and her survival of a stroke at mid-life. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Gravel Magazine, Wildflower Muse, The Remembered Arts Journal, The Vignette Review, Modern Creative Life, Halcyon Days, and The Book Ends Review. Her short memoir, Stroke Story, My Journey There and Back is self-published. She and her husband live in Sarasota, Florida, with their rescued Schnoodle.

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Senses Of Rhapsody

By Anna Kapungu

Love is its own universe A realm of fantasy Songs of flowers in the winds Raindrops of rubies and pearls Sunlight like gold on Gods path Dwells in the comfort of the petals of a rose Rivers of oranges, purples and stars A flying beacon of the galaxies Moving at the rays of moonlight In its depth, height and width A formula unknown Senses of rhapsody and seventh heaven Leaning without latitudes Windfall ,a haven where it touches The heart ascends with love A nucleus that is a force Like the Mercury’s fire Lantern in the midnight gleam Tranquil like autumn in season Euphony immunity to melancholy Breathe easy, the universe moves softly

© potter_101— stock. Adobe.com

Anna Kapungu is a poet and children’s book writer who has published a poetry collection entitled ’Water falling between words’ with Austin Macauley. Her second book to be published by Pegasus will be entitled ‘Feet on unstable waters’. She is a Canadian citizen currently residing in United Kingdom. Anna is a graduate of South bank University London with a BA (Hons) Degree in Hotel Management and a Diploma in Public Relations, Marketing and Sales Management from Commercial Careers College. Publishing credits include Pegasus, Carrillion, Onepersonstrash, Magazine, Adelaide Literary, Aadun Journal, Austin Macauley ,United Press UK ,Eber and Wein Publishers USA, Forward poetry UK, The Sentinel Journal Magazine and The Eustere Journal.

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Snow Geese

By Dave Benson Hallucinating white geese waywardly southward against the cobalt vault, majestic tundra trumpeters cackling like Canadians, foraying, foraging, fleeing the northern glaciers; again that night against frozen black heavens, an arrow of white stars across the dark firmament, flying to frontiers via routes known only to atavistic aviators— Go geese, snow geese, go to where you know, know the way you go, where below you flow memories as time unfolds

Dave Benson is from Baltimore, MD and Madison, WI. He has traveled in several European countries, the US, Mexico, Central and South America, including Colombia where he lived for 7 years. He writes poetry in English, Spanish and French, and tries to write poetry that is accessible to everyone. Recent poems have appeared in the online literary reviews Locust Magazine, Yahara Prairie Lights, and Bramble. He enjoys reading at Mother Fool’s coffee house in Madison, and has read for the past two years at the Madison Winter Poetry Festival. © 12019 - Pixabay.com Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 8 |

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In the Heart of Town

By Alexa Findlay

After The Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh

a quiet town sits surrounded by vast hills & dated homes on a starry winter night—

© 14398 - Pixabay.com

Young and Single

By Alexa Findlay

After Rain Princess by Leonid Afremov

there strolls a young woman on a rainy night dressed in a solid black rain coat carrying an umbrella inhaling the fresh winter air in a town so peaceful & secluded as she unwinds from the daily struggles of life so young and full of life single & ready to mingle— c Michael Shake - stock.adobe.com

Alexa Findlay is an Undergraduate student at the University of California, Riverside. My work has been featured in El Camino College’s Literary Arts Journal: Myriad, See Beyond Magazine, Pomona Valley Review, Better than Starbucks Magazine, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Halcyon Days and Halcyon Days' Founder Favourites and forthcoming in The Quail Bell Magazine, Grotesque Magazine, and Blood Moon Rising Magazine.

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Haiku

By DJ Tyrer Our lips gently brush A perfect moment with you Blossom frosts your hair © silberkorn73 | Pixabay.com

DJ Tyrer is the person behind Atlantean Publishing, was placed second in the 2015 Data Dump Award for Genre Poetry, and has been published in The Rhysling Anthology 2016, issues of Cyaegha, Carillon, Frostfire Worlds, Illumen, The Pen, Sirens Call, Tigershark and California Quarterly, and online at Three Drops from a Cauldron, Bindweed, Poetry Pacific, Scarlet Leaf Review and The Muse, as well as releasing several chapbooks, including the critically acclaimed Our Story. DJ Tyrer's website is at http://djtyrer.blogspot.co.uk/ and The Atlantean Publishing website is at http://atlanteanpublishing.blogspot.co.uk/

Newborn

By Gregg Dotoli pure blessed and of bliss wishes don’t yet exist

© Nelly Kovalchuk | stock.adobe.com

Gregg lives in New York City area and has studied English at Seton Hall University. He works as a white hat hacker, but his first love is the arts. His poems have been published in Quail Bell Magazine, The Four Quarters Magazine, Calvary Cross, Dead Snakes, Halcyon Magazine, Allegro Magazine, the Mad Swirl, Voices Project, Writing Raw and Down in the Dirt.

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Weavings

By Darrell Petska Another scarf vibrant, warm: fingers flying— she's 89!

Small faces dancing in her eyes' twilight guide her needles straight and sure.

A dozen? Two? Better stitch more for the little ones she won't see grow.

Yet she'll be close, her heart weaved tight in the warmth they'll feel: great-grandma's love.

Š AlexMaster - stock.adobe.com

Darrell Petska's writing has appeared in Red Paint Hill, Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, Chiron Review, Perspectives Magazine, Star 82 Review, Bird's Thumb and elsewhere (see conservancies.wordpress.com). Darrell worked for many years as communications editor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, leaving finally to focus on his own writing and his family. He lives in Middleton, Wisconsin.

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Paradise

By Valerie Ruberto Man and woman at one another’s side; pensive reflection yields guessing directions to get back to my home in your arms.

Set me under a cricket chirp sky.

Lay me down on a green blade bed, wrapped in your jacket as the light takes me home.

Exchanging our darkness at Atkins Glen, and being here with you is a paradise: my ration of Heaven, my keepsake of a reality more four dimensional than my own.

Each star mimics the glint of light in your eyes in a desperate attempt to surpass their beauty, but I can’t connect the dots in constellations as well as I can when I go ice fishing through your eyes.

© Kellepics—Pixabay.com

Valerie Ruberto is a psychology major at Tufts University. She is originally from Montvale, New Jersey and has been writing poetry as a hobby for five years. To read more of Valerie's poems, go to her personal website, www.valerierubertopoetry.weebly.com.

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Winter Solstice

by Joan McNerney Hurry, short days are here, too much to do to.

Get ready, find gloves, hats, scarves, sweaters.

Stopping to see the shape of a snowflake.

Hurry home to luxuriate in dim light listening to heat hissing finding warmth from hot teas.

Bundled in bed comforted by mounds of blankets, books.

Finally succumbing to our northern goddess, whose black nights are long and silent as evergreens. © Foundry - Pixabay.com

Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary zines such as Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze, Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, Halcyon Days and included in Bright Hills Press, Kind of A Hurricane Press and Poppy Road Review anthologies. She has been nominated four times for Best of the Net.

Winter Solstice Presents

By Linda Imbler

At this powerful time, the sun stands still.

Winter Solstice gives the North’s best present, it begins with great darkness and holds us and shows us new promise and solace.

Even within the depths of blackness, it gifts essential rest and dormancy.

A dormancy birthing new energy, carrying us into the yule season.

There are gifts we take, there are gifts we give.

The Winter Solstice allows the children of the Earth’s top half to share their own gift.

Our lighted candle beacons using light to brighten places where light is most needed, sending hope to places unimpeded.

Flickering candles, silver, white, argent with lambent glow, effulgent, radiant, lit against angled corners and niches or shone within porches and kitchens.

There are gifts we take, there are gifts we give.

© Reni95 | Pixabay.com

Linda Imbler is the author of the published poetry collection “Big Questions, Little Sleep.” She is a Kansas-based Pushcart Nominee. Her work has appeared in numerous and international journals. Linda’s creative process and a current, complete listing of sites which have or will publish her work can be found at lindaspoetryblog.blogspot.ca Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 8

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Shadow Lake Snow Snakes

By Carl “Papa” Palmer

Not the inviting cotton candy snow scene on a holiday greeting card or sparkling fluffy flakes floating softly in the shaken crystal globe, These wind whipped ice shards blown, thrown, stinging, not sticking, hurled, swirled across bare brown ground like long white snakes slithering in the sand.

© Natalia Kollegova - Pixabay.com

Carl "Papa" Palmer of Old Mill Road in Ridgeway, VA now lives in University Place, WA. He is retired military, retired FAA and now just plain retired without wristwatch, cell phone or alarm clock. Carl, Hospice volunteer and president of The Tacoma Writers Club is a Pushcart Prize and Micro Award nominee. MOTTO: Long Weekends forever

Winter Sun

by Matthew Harrison The rising sun tints rose the tower’s crest, then like a brightly shining wave it sweeps over the hillside to the place I rest and rouses thoughts of home that my heart keeps.

Cool morning breeze clears clouds from eggshell sky, blows staleness away, cleans this narrow street; I walk past long streamers the breezes dry, the ruffled blooms waiting for day’s dry heat.

Breathless afternoon, tree tops powdered gold: all poised in an unchanging moment lent by time. Evening now falls swift and cold, shadows leach colour away. My thought’s bent on England’s cloud-blown skies – breath steaming white, tramping through muddy fields to home’s warm light.

© Matthew Harrison

Matthew Harrison lives in Hong Kong, and whether because of that or some other reason entirely his writing has veered from literary to science fiction and he is currently writing poetry. He has published pieces in all of these genres. Matthew is married with two children but no pets as there is no space for these in Hong Kong. www.matthewharrison.hk Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 8 |

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Sea, sky and mist merge Black fishing-boat silhouette A mirror image Silence seals the scene, pale grey Seek the horizon, no sign

Š Free-Photos - Pixabay.com

DJ Tyrer is the person behind Atlantean Publishing, was placed second in the 2015 Data Dump Award for Genre Poetry, and has been published in The Rhysling Anthology 2016, issues of Cyaegha, Carillon, Frostfire Worlds, Illumen, The Pen, Sirens Call, Tigershark and California Quarterly, and online at Three Drops from a Cauldron, Bindweed, Poetry Pacific, Scarlet Leaf Review and The Muse, as well as releasing several chapbooks, including the critically acclaimed Our Story. DJ Tyrer's website is at http://djtyrer.blogspot.co.uk/ and The Atlantean Publishing website is at http://atlanteanpublishing.blogspot.co.uk/ Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 8

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Sting of a Snowflake

By Ken Allan Dronsfield The old barn moans and groans as bones creak on this coolish day.

Stepping outside into fields of corn now cut leaving an apocalyptic view.

I watched the winds conspire with shafts of wheat tickling the sunset.

From a dark cloud drifing above, a lone snowflake floats down and stings the tip of my warm red nose.

I’m feeling a tinge of winter as the warm summer dreams disappear, replaced by frosty car windshields or cold floors on bare feet each morning.

Twilight time chases the light away near the dead crab apple trees on the old farm where I once roamed. © victorgrow - stock.adobe.com

As the Wind Howls

By Ken Allan Dronsfield Flames reflected within the cat’s eye a glass of spirits await a parched soul wool socks warming my chilled feet the hound listens as the wind howls.

Teapot whistles in a shrieking pitch inside a little cabin on a snowy night as loneliness wreaks of rumination a harsh stare from the napping cat.

Ink flows smooth on nights like this; imagination tickles a swirling mind image of acute emotional darkness seeking the shadowed muse inside.

The cat naps with one eye open and the mouse creeps on the window sill the snow shovel falls with a clamor everyone jumps as the wind howls. © pascalmwiemers—pixabay.com

Ken Allan Dronsfield is a poet who was nominated for The Best of the Net and 2 Pushcart Awards for Poetry in 2016.

His poems have been published world-wide in various publications throughout North and South America, Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa. Ken loves thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night, and spending time with his cat Willa. His new book, "The Cellaring", a collection of haunting, paranormal, weird and wonderful poems, has been released and is available through Amazon.com. He is the co-editor of two poetry anthologies, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze and Dandelion in a Vase of Roses available from Amazon.com.

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The Quest

By A. Elizabeth Herting

T

ime was running out. Only mere minutes were left before it would be too late, his fate hung precariously in the balance. Chuck pressed his foot down on the gas, trying not to speed and risk getting pulled over. There was no time to waste. He had been all over town, racing against the clock as the final dregs of daylight slipped away into a cold winter night. If he couldn’t find it, all would be lost. Chuck dreaded the very thought of it.

He pulled into the lot and leapt from the car, almost losing his footing on the icy blacktop. Scrambling to the door, he yanked hard on the handle, racing past a bewildered employee about to lock up for the night. Thundering down the aisles, he discarded hundreds of items in his all-encompassing, quixotic quest. It just had to be here, there really was no other option.

On the very last shelf, in the very farthest aisle, he stopped. A voice came over the intercom advising him that they would be closing in five minutes. He’d better go about his business quickly.

He moved several items aside. Chuck had worked way too hard to give up without exhausting every last possibility.

As the dust settled on the shelf, he reached behind another item in a last ditch effort. He might fail in his endeavor, but he would leave no stone unturned. Pulling it aside, he took a deep breath and reached behind it. In what had to be one of the happiest moments of his life, the object of his quest sat before him. He pulled it off of the shelf, clutching it in sheer triumph. The voice scolded him over the intercom again, they were about to close up, but Chuck didn’t mind. He had done it. Like a victorious general emerging from battle, he strode purposely to the front. It was all worth it now that he held his treasure.

T

he little girl’s large hazel eyes widened as she pulled the last of the last remnants of wrapping paper off of her final gift under the tree. Joanie was just fifteen months old that Christmas. Her very best friend in the world was her pink stuffed animal named “Funny Bunny,” they were inseparable. Her parents could already see the first signs of wear on the bunny, wanted to get her another, but it had to be exactly the right one. Chuck had run out on Christmas Eve, frantically searching at every toy store in town.

All of the searching instantly paid off as he watched his baby squeal with delight. She pulled out the blue kitty and hugged it fiercely to her chest. He was dubbed “Silly Kitty” and joined the bunny as Joanie’s constant companion, one under each arm, everywhere she went.

C

huck sighed with nostalgia at the memory as he got ready to drop Joanie off at college. The years had flown by so quickly. His curly, dark-haired little girl was now a young woman. Chuck could hardly believe it.

The very last items Joanie packed up were her onetime friends, Funny Bunny and Silly Kitty. Very old and worn and full of thread and patches, Joanie tucked one under each arm in a well practiced motion. He knew she would hide them when she got to the dorm so as not to get teased, but they would be there anyway.

Just knowing they were there would be enough.

As he closed the door to her room and followed Joanie down the hallway, Chuck felt tears begin to form in his eyes. His quest had been a success and now it was her turn. He felt good that her old friends would be joining her on this new quest, from childhood to adulthood.

It was going to be the best year ever.

It was going to be the best year ever.

© kichigin19—stock.adobe.com

A. Elizabeth Herting is an aspiring freelance writer and busy mother of three living in colorful Colorado. She has had short stories featured in Bewildering Stories, Cafe Aphra, Clumsy Quips, Dark Fire Fiction, Edify Fiction, Everyday Fiction, Fictive Dream, 50-Word Stories, Friday Fiction, Literally Stories, New Realm, Peacock Journal, Pilcrow&Dagger, Quail Bell Magazine, Scrutiny Journal, Speculative 66, Storyteller, The Flash Fiction Press and Under the Bed. She has also published non-fiction work in Denver Pieces Magazine, bioStories, and completed a novel called “Wet Birds Don’t Fly at Night” that she is hoping to find a home for. For more of her work/contact her at sites.google.com/site/aehertingwriter Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 8

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Invisible Angels

By Ingrid Bruck

Our senses translate the unseen, it’s the place where guardian angels roam, a child bumps into their solid presence crossing an empty floor at night and knows her protectors are there.

The invisible feels real because it is.

You don’t talk about it the way you’d discuss people and wouldn’t consider asking these questions: How tall is the wind?

How much does a song weigh?

Is the sun’s heat tall?

Is the snow’s cold short?

Does a smelly lilac need a cut and wash?

Would you ever ask your eyes how old do they have to get before they can hold a view that takes in a hundred miles of mountains?

The senses translate the whirr of a hummingbird’s wing, the siren call of red on a woodpecker’s head, cold rosy cheeks carried inside the house, the melody of Smetana’s Moldau river flows from nose to toes, from brook to ocean, the breath of a poem blows out of the mouth like wind, pushed by air that lifts waves, fills sheets and rings chimes.

In fog you smell wood smoke and know a warm fire is waiting.

© Nastya_Gepp - Pixabay.com

Ingrid Bruck writes nature inspired poetry, makes jam and grows wildflowers. She’s a retired library director living in the Pennsylvania Amish country that inhabits her writing. Recent works appear in Unbroken, Halcyon Days, Nature Writing, Entropy, Leaves of Ink, Poetry Breakfast and The Song Is. Poetry website: ingridbruck.com Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 8 |

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Winter at Daybreak

By Ann Christine Tabaka Venus, the morning star, is still visible in the sky as I step outside.

The bright sun breaks through the cold crisp morning air.

My breath drifts heavenward, floating on a cloud of mist.

I watch as it dissipates into wisps of fine vapor.

The cold embraces me and I shiver, for a moment.

Then I stop and look around me.

I take in all the beauty of that winter morning.

Frozen moisture encases every branch and twig.

It is as if I happened upon a magical wonderland, where everything is made of glass.

Where sparkling crystals hang from every tree.

The cold no longer has a hold on me, for I am warmed by all the magic that surrounds me.

I continue on with my day, taking with me all the wonder that this morning has presented to me.

My heart soars. © tatsuo115 - stock.adobe.com

Ode to Spring

by Ann Christine Tabaka In the grip of winter I sow my seeds With hopes of spring The soil heeds The frozen earth Its mouth open wide The soil heaved The seeds fall inside From my hands The seeds scatter forth I dream of spring When the earth gives birth

The fissures swallow With hungry lust Each tiny seed Beneath its crust Soon came the rains The seeds to nourish The barren ground Soon to flourish © PublicDomainPictures - Pixabay.com

Ann Christine Tabaka lives in Delaware. She is a published poet and artist. She loves gardening and cooking. Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her most recent credits are The Paragon Journal, The Literary Hatchet, The Metaworker, Raven Cage Ezine, RavensPerch, Anapest Journal, Mused, Apricity Magazine, Longshot Island, Indiana Voice Journal, Halcyon Days Magazine, The Society of Classical Poets, and BSU’s Celestial Musings Anthology.

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