Poems for Persons of Interest

Maura H. Harrison is a writer and artist from Fredericksburg, VA. Her works have appeared with Ekstasis Magazine , The Windhover, THINK Journal , and others. Smart Phones Each person’s engaged with their screen. They touch and stroke their machine. Their shoulders are hunched, Their stomachs are bunched, Their souls in a virtual scene.

E.J. Hutchinson  is Associate Professor of Classics at Hillsdale College and Director of Hillsdale's Collegiate Scholars Program. His poems have previously appeared in various fora in print and online.   Telemachus in Pylos Telemachus went to see Nestor: Since he would not puff out his chest or Fight the boys in the yard (That would just be too hard), He went abroad for the semester.   In the Cave of the Cyclops When trapped by the freak Polyphemus, Ulysses thought, “He’s gonna cream us!” So he gouged out his eye. Afterward, passersby Heard him crying, “Nobody’s the meanest!”   Philip II of Macedon King Philip has croaked in Vergina. With a laugh, his foes raise a retsina. But the joke is on them: Alexander’s sworn in. He’s a lion hungry for hyena.   The Edict of Thessalonica Way back in old Thessaloniki, Since the Arians’ faith was so sneaky, Theodosius proclaimed That Nicaea be named The imperial gyro...

  Martin Redfern  is a public opinion researcher living in Ottawa Canada.   Two Limericks There once was a man from Lambay Who sought to write verse a new way He thought t’would be grand To write five lines that scanned Rhyming AA then BB then A.   *** His poetry form was called cute By the marketing men in their suits, But for branding, they claimed, It should take on the name Of a West Irish town of repute.

Felicity Teague  (Fliss) features regularly in  The HyperTexts  and edits  Well Met , a modest showcase of metrical poetry. Her second poetry collection is out soon. Not Dr. Foster There was once a mad medic from Gloucester with a name that was not Dr. Foster; he’d a fetish for rain, it was said, to explain why he drank all the puddles in Gloucester.

D.W. Baker is a poet, editor, and father from St. Petersburg, Florida, USA. See more of his work at  www.dwbakerpoetry.com Parallax We both saw the light of the mind: Mysterious force undefined. If God is your name for cognitive flame, what makes you believe She’s your kind?