Flutter of an Eye

The "Flutter of your Eye" on the day you passed away
Reminds us of a "Butterfly as it gently flies away"
And as we see the grazing deer we know that you are near
We long to hear your voice and see your smile again
And know we will again someday and will hold on to the
memories until then.
We will always remember that day and the
~"Flutter of your Eye" as you drifted away~
Sending our everlasting love and hugs up to you and
We want you to know we are thinking of you!


Your Spirit

Your touch, your voice, your warm embrace
The bright smile that lights up your beautiful face
These memories of you we hold on to and remember each year
Especially when your birthday is here.
We take comfort in the love that you gave us and
We know "Your Spirit" always surrounds us!

Sisters

My parents blessed me with two "Sisters" to share my love with in life
There for each other through thick and through thin
I couldn't imagine my life without them
The bond that we have is as strong as our faith
We wouldn't have it any other way
As we grow old together through the years
Through happy and sad times, up and down times
Holding hands through laughter and tears
I thank my parents and the Lord above for
My two "Sisters" that I adore and love!

Take Me With You

"Take me with you" whatever you do
I will always be a part of you
In the good times, bad times, happy and sad times
"Take me with you" down the road
I will be by your side wherever you go
Part of me lives in you since I've gone away
"Take me with you" I'm there to stay

Salute a Soldier

“Salute a Soldier” and show your support for
The sacrifices made even lives were cut short
They will always stand tall even after the fall
“Bravery of a Soldier” will be remembered by all!
“Salute a Soldier”
It’s the right thing to do
For all that’s been given for freedom for you!

“Flutter of an Eye is a short collection of poems written by Tammy Spears in homage to her mother, who recently passed away in 2007 from lung cancer. The chronology order of the poems reflects the last two stages of the grievance process: depression, and acceptance. The first arrangement of poems reflects memories of the poet’s mother and the poet’s future without her. Towards the end of the book, the poet reflects on the blessings she has in this life. Flutter of an Eye is meant to help and inspire those who have lost a loved one.”
— The New England Book Critic

My name is Tammy Spears and I am the author of the inspirational poetry book “Flutter of an Eye”.  My poetry book has been published through iUniverse of Bloomington, Indiana.  My poem “Flutter of an Eye” has also been published in Upon Arrival-Interlude by Eber & Wein Publishing. Various poems have also been published in the 2021 monthly editions of Neighbors of Bowling Green and Franklin Kentucky Magazines.

The book was written in memory of my beautiful Mother, Diana Hullings, who passed away at a young age of 61 from lung cancer. (“MOTHER” is a poem in my book). My mother was and still is my inspiration in life and I wanted to dedicate my book of poetry in her memory to share with family and friends to be inspired as well.

My book of poetry contains inspirational poems of love for a Mother and a Mother’s love, blessings in life, love of family, love to share, God’s gifts and blessings, honoring the military, life experiences, seasons of change, memories of a loved one, reminiscing and cherishing precious time, and love of a child and spouse.

I also have material to publish my second book of inspirational poems that will be titled “Fluttering On”. The meaning of the title of the sequel is that my mother is “Fluttering On” with us as we are “Fluttering On” without her.

We only have “one life” to live, so make an “Impact” while you can, “Reach for Hope” when in need, “Come Together” and “Lend a Hand” to make a difference, “Cherish the Memories”, “Precious Time” and all of “Life’s Blessings” God sends your way “Year After Year”.  Won’t you “Take me With You” on The “Walk” of  life’s journey?  (All of the quotes are inspirational poems in my published poetry book).

The one message I would like to convey to my readers is to Cherish Life and the many Blessings God sends your way! “Dream”-“Dream”-“Dream” you can make your dreams a Reality! This was taken from one of my poems in the book called “Dream”.

My advice to aspiring authors would be to pursue your writing as an author if it is a passion and make your “Dream” come to light!

Please order Tammy Spears’ Flutter of an Eye here.

sacrificed

at twenty years old i worked as a contract labourer for an engineering company. we would be sent out for stints of doing hard manual work in a range of places. the money was ok, and the other blokes were too. at that time most of us were doing life tough in some way.

one job we were on, we were instructed to pull down old buildings on an industrial sight in an outer suburb. the bosses of the company stood back watching us from a distance.
it was as if this urgent building demolition was undercover. nobody else came near as we smashed and bashed and sawed and stacked.

many years later it dawned on me one night as i watched tv, those old buildings had been made of asbestos. the air had been thick with particles and our lungs were also.
we were breathing it in daily, sniffing and coughing at the end of each shift and at home every night.

we had been used for months to destroy what they had seen as a health risk. there had been no protection or information for us; no masks, warnings, or concerns about the long-term outcomes. we had been completely sacrificed by the companies involved; seen as unskilled losers with no value or worth.

now decades later we old past labourers must be walking time-bombs. i’ve read it takes this amount of time for deadly lung growths to occur. to date i’ve taken no action; how can i? i don’t even remember the name of the employee it was so long ago. i know that seems ignorant but it was forty years before.

i feel angry about how thoughtlessly we had been sacrificed; question, where were the bodies to monitor treatment of workers? was there a union i didn’t know about? we were sent to all types of dangerous sites, and we did anything they asked us to do.

i don’t think it could happen in current australia or could it? and does it still occur in other hidden ways? do workers continue to be sacrificed? how many of those original blokes are sick or dead? it was out of our control. we are innocent victims

BIOGRAPHY Stephen House   

Stephen House has had 20 plays produced. He has won many awards as a poet, playwright, and actor. He’s received international literature residencies from The Australia Council and Asialink. His chapbooks “real and unreal” poetry and “The Ajoona Guest House” monologue are published by ICOE Press Australia. His next book drops soon. He performs his acclaimed monologues widely.

In a Day of Spring

Spring is a season of beauty
It comes after the dry winter
To remove all the dryness of nature
And make happy the nature.
Spring is the charming season of nature
It is called the king of all seasons
In this season,
The entire nature makes her so beautiful
The beauty is not possible to explain in words
In a day of spring,
I was walking through the open field
New leaves and flowers grown on the trees
The flowers spread their fragrance
That blows my mind
Many types of birds flying in the sky
If I could be one of the birds
I would fly in the sky! and 
Had gone through many new places
By exploring the beauty of nature.



Don Bormon is a student of grade 8 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.  

Title: Hell on Earth
(Perception of Reality)

Genre: RAP/HIP-HOP

Waking up from sleep
Still in the ill state of slumbering
Anticipating bliss but sunk in pain
Wondering ‘why wake up?’
Another day of working out
To become the real biggie
But being forced to do the smalls
Subconsciously waking up to breaking up
Happiness kept at bay
As if joy is kept at arms length
Seeking inspiration to glide against the tempest
Only to realize this is hell on earth
The living projection from hell
The world being lived in
So twisted that what’s left in it ain’t right
Hell on Earth

Chorus

Hell on earth
What an experience!

The perception of reality
Look at all directions
That’s a pointer(2ce)

Verse 2
Lost in time
Sought for the time machine to bring me back
Only to realize I was in the past, present and future
My predicament was Not Obviously Waiting
The Ascertained Generation of Existence
Likened to flying kites back in the day
And the present AI activity
Expressed Excruciation marking the pinnacle of adversity
The hell of the poor
The  paradise of the rich
Making pain to create gain
That’s the contradiction
The programmed nature of man
The Defined Attainment of Time Embraced
Tantamount to the Hell on Earth ordeal.

Chorus
Hell on earth
What an Experience!

The perception of reality
Look at all directions
That’s a pointer (2ce)

Verse 3
In the train of thoughts
emanates a dynamic release of flaws
Depicted by overwhelming concerns
Put forward amazing challenges
Death and life polarized the essence
Judgmental in the first place
Biased at the end
Consequential absurdities
Tantamount to retributions
Worried About Revolution  as panacea to war
Thought of projecting bullet bars from mars
But outpaced by the mind-blowing speed of light years cars
Heaven the next option
But its 12 Pearly Gates an obstruction
Couldn’t believe the vision
Blamed it on pseudo information
But it became crystal clear
The fact emerging
Then it was true
The hell on earth situation

Chorus
Hell on earth
What an experience!

The perception of reality
Look at all directions
That’s the pointer (2ce)

Sod; What Are You Thinking?                                           

Silent.

Sod.

What?

What are you thinking?

Thinking? Now. What am I thinking, now? I am not sure. Why?

You’re sitting there quiet. You must be thinking.

Why?

Because, even if we’re not hearing what we’re thinking, we are always thinking.

That’s ridiculous.

Why?

Sod began answering with, Okay, it’s—but paused there to shift himself upright in his chair—since he had learned by experience that his habit of slumping down slowly by increments would end with a hot sudden stab of back pain, he’d made a fortress—a mental fortress—of stone, concrete, steel, and many more similar strongs, in self-defense, so long back ago, to pull up periodically—he straightened like that, ‘n, after making ten mental notes (viz old papyrus style) wh’ he hatcheted straight at the doctor, in the form of an answer.

I am not stupid enough, doctor, to have not over the course of my considerable years, formed a way and a passion to periodically sump away through side flushouts an’ mediatations created by my worksquad, which may cause me—umm, hummm, mmmmmm—discomfort, shall I say? Yes, I shall. I shall say that, I’ll say.

The doctor wrote feverishly along as Sod spoke.

Say I’m not stupid enough, doctor, to have not developed a handy hidden lever-style handle to push and flush out my bads s’pous’nal gullet—bad thoughts, the bads of my thoughts, which do pressure out expansively inside me, from time to time mainly, because, I know what your next question will be like 1, 2, 3, 2, 1, oh, and so, Sod; what usually happens to cause you to need to pull the lever and, that’s—eck aha ha ha-s-swat, there you go assuming I am the one pulls the lever, buh, no. I am not the one who pulls the lever, doctor, not the one I doctor pull, doc the do’ lever ‘oc, the do-lever doctor-doc, I am not 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Off.

Patooey.

Oh? said the doctor, eyebrows raised—then, who?

I assign a man. From my staff deep within. Within what, you ask? Well, within me of course. Where the hells else’s, eh eh e’, Eva, where the hell else, come dance with me 1, 2, Eva 3, 4, come dance with me 4,3,2,1; I assign a man from the troop riding ‘sides me, to pull whichever of the many levers i’sides me, why would I do it myself? Why then, doctor-oonio? Why would I do so myself that would render me guilty of what may might m’ mm happen. Y’know?

Suss.

Okay, but—Sod. What if the lever caused something good to happen? Would you take the credit for it, in that case?

Fing-pointer, up!

Many wrongs there, Seelie; embedded in that question. Many, many wrongs. First off, I did not pull it. Can claim no credit, therefore—oooooh. Second—what is credit? Credit to be taken? No, nah yah yah, silly! Credit is just another f’rm of guilty. Praise is just a milder form of—condemnation. Take France, Willies? Look out there; there’s France. The door’s open a crack. And a crack’s enough. Sess’pecially that there crack. Hello! Wide enough for a dog—but bear in mind, not a full pack. Oh no. Oh no. Much too expensive, that. Uh oh o.

Hey Doc. Where the hell were we?

We were about—here—yes here. I asked you what you were thinking.

And—that question is funny? Why are you laughing inside, Doctor?

I am not laughing inside.

Yes, you are, we all always are, and that what you said, that right there—that there you just said—s’ why we are all out of synch with ourselves. So ‘flicted conflicted feeling uneasy seeking out this doc, that pill, this needle, that powder, buck, not to mention all the hot mating gone, out o’ the world in this very bus we’re sitting in here, and now, ah, but no matter. What bus’s not useless without a driver. ‘tonomous or autonomous fleshly big small big-lickety splittereenianne’s spit; you got to let yourself go. We’re all laughing inside. Let it go got to let it go and, then. See it burst out ‘neath the forms all erect, meant to keep it back but, it is not to be held; is about to burst in every single and every married one too heenianiannes even—even in that far lick of an outcountry, the forms will blow their concreational slabberies, ‘nd, the damned incompetent workmen responsible for the failure will bite their lips bloody; just as Dumas’ musketeers would do all the time, when the going got rough, there they were bite bit bitten bitte—look the damned thing up, okay, because, I can tell by your faces—ah—that you do not believe me! Ooosh—so, I let it come just, like you all ought to do and, it slid out over what they wrongly considered their proper ways to be, and—like you doc, you’re afraid to let go; your proper way to be. Say no, I’m not, yes you are, not are no’ ‘re n’ e’ ehhhhh—let it damned go, you’d be better off ‘s me doc. Than you. I mean look at you. Just look at you. So sad, doc, so sad—that thing up the wall back ‘hind you there—that diplicotonious of what have you’s called—says you’re fully trained boy, so, let me see boy, how well you’re trained, let me see boy, let me see; woof, woof boy?

Woof woof?

Uh—eh. Where’s the doctor?

Doctor. Are you still there, doctor?

Now where the hell’d ‘e go this time?

Here boy here boy here boy here—

‘s whistledy-splick.

Jim Meirose’s short fiction has appeared in leading journals. His novels include “Sunday Dinner with Father Dwyer”(Optional Books), “Understanding Franklin Thompson”(JEF), “Le Overgivers au Club de la Résurrection”(Mannequin Haus), “No and Maybe – Maybe and No”(Pski’s Porch), and “Audio Bookies” (LJMcD Communications) coming in 2024. Gen’l info: www.jimmeirose.com @jwmeirose

VERTEBRATE EVOLUTION

You, sweet guest at a sugared feast,
soon may just be dust in a seared waste.
Today I carry the lash
but tomorrow wear the leash.
Fates and fortunes shift and swerve.
Voices drift from noise to verse.
Some of us skeletons shall end as relics.


A QUESTION OF BEAUTY

Are you, my dear, a sloth,
agnostic of appearance?
Maybe your self's a ghost
and you depend on your clothes.
Your beauty, inherent
or of workmanship a boast?

PANTHEON

Whose slaves are we and the world?
Maya's
Dreams of tomorrows
children:
twirl with the Milky Way,
Vishnu,
feast on wine and bread,
Jesus,
and die and die and die
Buddha,
among the stones and sand and stars.
Allah....

AT YOUR GATE

Be careful! There's a charmer
who's smiling at your gate.
He may be selling dharma,
he may be selling hate.
It may be he's a Witness
or one with a hit list.
He may be selling makeup,
he may be selling plates.
Or you may be a Jacob
who's wrestling with your fate.

ADAM AND EVE AND ENTROPY

But Newton's
apple tree
took root,
bore fruit
as infinity's
axle tree.

My universe
comprises
my consciousness.
But for a part
of the heart
of time
we entwined--
your universe
and mine
embraced,
shared space.

Your-near-my-far
showed no gulf
until time--
diamond mine
studded with stars--
time -- swallowed itself.
Our universe,
our consciousness,
exited existence.

But galaxies
of progeny
expanded eternity.

COMMUNION

God gave us our nakedness,
the bulge and curves
that enmuse and then infuse
the poet's words.
And so, as now we embrace
infinity,
I don't ask you to undress
virginity
but request you to address
divinity.

A Book review by Linda S. Gunther

“ETERNAL” by Lisa Scottoline

With a trip planned to the wine country this past weekend, I couldn’t wait to get away for a few days. It was a long drive from our house at the beach in Northern California to Sonoma County, and I was in the midst of reading ETERNAL, an historical fiction novel set in the 1930’s and 40’s in Rome, Italy, written by Lisa Scottoline.

I get carsick if I read as a passenger which means I was incredibly frustrated during that 4-hour car journey. I had started the novel the night before and read about 135 pages, my eyes in the book until the last minute, digesting another 20 pages before my husband and I left the house on Friday morning.

I just didn’t want to put the book down. I like to run my fingers down the pages of a good book and because I’m a novelist myself, sometimes I make notes in the margins or bend the page corners because of something so beautifully written. I learn so much from every book I read, so I haven’t ever considered switching over to audiobooks. I sat in the car and suppressed my impatience until we arrived at our destination. At the hotel I flopped down on the cozy love seat, curled up in front of the fireplace, a glass of intoxicating Cabernet on the table before me and held ETERNAL in my hands, ready to savor every page.

The story starts out joyous, the three young protagonists as children (Elisabetta, Marco and Sandro) in Rome, hanging out together, biking the city, splashing each other at the foot of the Tiber River. The story begins with a love triangle. Best friends, Marco and Sandro are both secretly captivated by feisty Elisabetta. She favors one of the boys but loves them both in different ways for different reasons. I won’t say more about how this topsy turvy love story works out but it’s not what you’d expect and I mean that!  Your heart will be turned inside out going through the ups and downs of young love.

The timeline of this novel spans decades through Mussolini’s rule of the country, the start of WW II, Italy’s unification with Hitler’s Germany, the Nazi occupation of Rome and the chaos that ensues with a barrage of anti-Semitic laws that morph into a living hell for all Italian Jews, one of whom is Sandro. 

The back cover of the book describes ETERNAL as a sweeping epic and for me that’s a perfect description for this page-turning read, a heart-wrenching tale full of twists and turns. 

The added bonus in this read was learning all about the craft of pasta-making! The secondary character, Nonna, the proprietor of exclusive Casa Servano, the only restaurant in Rome to serve the highest quality of home-made pasta, urges her protégé, Elisabetta, to finally take control of her young life, become independent of men, and savor everything there is to know about cooking and how to run a flourishing restaurant business. 

If you enjoy a good pasta as much as I do, then you will swoon over ETERNAL’s Chapter Eight-five where Elisabetta prepares spaghetti alle vongole (spaghetti with clam sauce), complete with the fresh chopped garlic, oregano, parsley, salt and olive oil. I could actually smell the dish on the page as the narrator described the precise preparation. As soon as I read it, my meal out that night in the wine country was a plateful of linguini and clams with a robust glass of Coppola Cabernet. 

One of my favorite historical novels of all time is Kristin Hannah’s The Nightingale, now being made into a film. In my opinion, the intriguing characters in Scottoline’s ETERNAL, their complex relationships, the deep dive into the internal dynamics of all three families and the delicious nuggets of Italian culture sprinkled throughout, places this novel in the same league as The Nightingale. And so, I give ETERNAL the highest rating of 5 out of 5! 

Linda S. Gunther is the author of six published suspense novels: Ten Steps From The Hotel Inglaterra, Endangered Witness, Lost In The Wake, Finding Sandy Stonemeyer, Dream Beach and most recently in 2021, Death Is A Great Disguiser.

Her short stories have been featured in numerous literary publications. Linda’s passion for travel and continuous learning fuels her fire to create vivid fictional characters and unforgettable story lines.