FOUR FEATHERS PRESS ONLINE EDITION: SKY KEY Send up to three poems on the subject of or at least mentioning the words sky and/or key, totaling up to 150 lines in length, in the body of an email message or attached in a Word file to donkingfishercampbell@gmail.com by 11:59 PM PST on March 14th. No PDF's please. Color artwork is also desired. Please send in JPG form. No late submissions accepted. Poets and artists published in Four Feathers Press Online Edition: Sky Key will be published online and invited to read at the Saturday Afternoon Poetry Zoom meeting on Saturday, March 15th between 3 and 5 pm PST.

Tuesday, March 11, 2025

Marieta Maglas

The Rainbow


In the violet blue sky, nature's

symphony; the light gets absorbed;

photodissociation or

photosynthetic photolysis.

Makes the Earth's oxygen and

the green of the leaves;

staying in the light to see

the Nepalese poppies

trembling in the wind~ still red.

Frozen leftovers can break through

the hot crust of the orange sun~

staying in the light to see 

the wheat field

shaking its weary yellow.

The dying stars become light

in the absorbing darkness;

astral jazz blues chord progression;

people dressed in 

indigo banana leaves;

absorbing love;

love means not victuals to be left over.




The Eye


A cosmic dimension liberated her from

the confines of epistemic reasoning.

Raindrops flowed down

her oval window,

sounding like ancient 

lachrymose songs;

a feeling of regression.

The window became 

a cosmic eye that

shimmered in the bluish hue 

of the nascent stars

that began to dissipate 

from their gist;

miscarriage; reminiscence;

heavy-heartedness.

She knelt in front of 

omnipresent God;

old, woeful words 

have been released

from her tongue of love.

Their significance 

have become obscured in

the rhythm of the rain;

a sense of mourning, despair,

and indecision.

The blue of the stars seemed

to merge with

this deepening sorrow, evoking

a sensation of blindness; 

fading away;

Celtic knots and stony eyes




The Numbers


I am convinced that

the depth of words 

is shaped by numbers.

For instance, 

the hieroglyph ‘4’ signifies

‘to breathe out of mouth’ 

and ‘44’ indicates

‘nice to meet you’.

Although the chance of 

our meeting is

still merely a potentiality,

I can devote time meditating.

I might not understand 

these mysteries.

Similar to the Pictish language,

they elude my comprehension,

yet I do acknowledge that

the journey of understanding 

is cyclical,

akin to a tondo or a circular loop.

It will invariably contain 

imperfections.

The moon plays a crucial role in

influencing our feelings.

It moves in a way 

that is misaligned 

with the sun,

continuously shifting from 

what is present to

what is about to happen.

While time is simply 

a cognitive construct,

the moon's path is 

a concrete truth.

It is through 

the mathematical mind that

one perceives 

the progression of time.

Love keeps you intertwined 

in my dreams,

and I long for your presence.

Time is not constant;

it varies with our viewpoint.

While numerous experiences 

happen concurrently,

our failure to perceive them 

is attributable to

the absence of harmony.

Harmony is the key to 

any relationship

and can result in an encounter.

This is why I am starting to 

fine-tune the numbers.


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