Editor’s Note: April is National poetry month. In celebration, we’ll be bringing you poetry from some of our favorite local and regional poets.
My Sensuality Is Tired
Sensuality, I know you are tired.
You need to be held and fed.
You are too big to fit in my lap but
I have broad shoulders and long arms
to cradle you from head to toe,
rocking back and forth, humming April in Paris.
You fish your tiny fingers under the ribbed collar of my sweater
and brush my skin
like slow windshield whippers
during a gentle rain.
For the moment, you are satiated and satisfied.
You follow me back to my bed, guided by the unmistakable
hoot and happy trill of the horned owl.
Sensuality, are you still awake?
Are you singing to me?
My own lullaby to hear
as every other living soul is asleep.
You are not lulling me to sleep
but waking me up to a peace I did not know was there.
– Heather Rose Johnson
Heather Rose Johnson is from Columbia, Missouri, and resides in Charleston,
South Carolina, with her husband and two children. Johnson
graduated with a B.F.A. in Fashion Design/Product Development from
Stephens College in 2005. Johnson has spent much of her career as a professional
seamstress and pattern maker but has woven her love of story and writing into
creative projects such as fashion events, puppet shows, film, poetry and is
currently writing a children’s book, Nyla Loves to Eat Flowers. Johnson crafted story
from a young age while making hand puppets and marionettes with her mother.
Ninety-six steps
Humidity clings in spider-webbed strands.
The sun heathers a billowing salmon-grey sky.
An avian chorus swells in symphonic greeting.
The marsh rests as the moon urges Lucy Creek seaward.
A rush of red feathers siren across my path.
Magnolia branches swoosh with a squirrel’s leap.
Lemon scented muhly grasses wave along my tabby walkway.
My slippered feet are laced with these gems of dawn.
With a breath of joy I pause before I retrieve the paper.
– Jane Forsythe
After spending a lifetime being a military nomad, as a child and a spouse,
Jane Forsythe has found her forever home in Beaufort, with her husband Barney.
As a retired Early Childhood Educator, she embraces the journey of life-long
learning and found herself in a poetry workshop offered by the Conroy Literary
Center last May. With inspiration teeming along Lucy Creek and the support of
the Moon and Sun Poetry Group, she is discovering that poetry is far more than a
mere search for rhyme!
Quickening
Quickening
amid the roots
unraveling in a musky dance of darkness
pushing through brown earth
weaving ‘round the milky quartz and granite
wrapped in loam and clay
gems and flowering a mystery
beaded burnt sienna buds
dotting fragile twigs of bridal wreath
green shoots escape swampy earth
proof the force below
Quickening
within the womb
my sister’s child
still nourished by her mother’s
mysterious blood waters
stretches curled arms and legs
reaching for a light yet unknown
to her unfurled limbs
her unheard cry now ripples
in May to break the silence
as morning glories cry color
to the passing night
Quickening
a flicker in my dark cave soul
O let the spirit rise
my own azaleas blazing coral
in the golden honey sun
– Jacquelyn Markham
Jacquelyn Markham has loved poetry since she was a child and
written it nearly as long. After her bachelor’s degree in English, she
earned a masters and a doctorate in English and Creative Writing from
Florida State University. Author of two chapbooks and a collection, she
has published nationally and internationally in literary journals,
magazines, and anthologies, including Archive: South Carolina Poetry
Since 2005, Adrienne Rich: A Tribute Anthology, Anthology of
Appalachian Writers, Lullwater Review, Hawaii Pacific Review, The
High Window, and Woman and Earth, among others.
A recipient of numerous grants and awards for literary merit and
the Adele Mellen Prize for distinguished scholarship, Dr. Markham
has taught creative and expository writing, literature, and women’s
studies in universities and communities. She lives and works on the
coast of South Carolina.
