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Sentimental Poetry edited by Anthony Watkins


When the sweltering South was struck with cold

And Dad dripped the pipes, the dangers of ice

Made us realize that my parents are old.

“Take your iPhone with you” my mom advised

So she’d know to save him before he dies,

Sprawled on the driveway like any well-bred

Southern man over fifty. Bundled head

To toe, Dad waddled out to Hell’s ninth ring

While Mom watched out for any frozen threat,

And I observed what affection time brings.


Why do hands on a piano look so

Elegant? Is it how the fingers curve

And move into shapes like making shadow

Puppets? No, it’s because they truly serve

The beauty that lies within their maestro,

Transforming the face that you had known first.

The allure of birds on the wall is made

In what you may glimpse within the dim shapes.

Mary K. Gowdy

poetry magazine, kelly writers house

One More Summer


There was a place I used to go

As a boy some years ago

A place onshore of a big lake

Where seagulls swooped for fish to take


Long walks on a soft sand beach

White breakers crashing within reach

The sun warming my back and face

How I grew to love that summer place


I’d gather wildflowers growing free

Beneath a gnarly black oak tree

Then climb a stretch of rolling hills

Still dotted by some old saw mills


Greens and violets lit the nights

From skies adorned with northern lights

A sweet smelling girl with sun dyed hair

Maggie and I had our love affair


Just once to return to that fine time

When everything near me seemed to rhyme

How joyous it would be again

For one more summer way back then

Alan Balter is a retired university professor. He had a wonderful career, spanning 35 years, at the University of Illinois and Chicago State University. His job was to prepare teachers for children and adolescents with special needs. Now, in retirement, He has turned to writing fiction, poetry, and personal essays. This helps keep his neurons firing and his dear wife sane.

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