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By Peter Venable The eye is the lamp of the body. —Matthew 6:22 Through a red lens I see shells, missiles, fiery explosions, smoldering rubble, bloodshot skies, body bags . . . Through a blue lens I see souls downcast, grieving, sorrowing, suffering, strollers left at trailway platforms . . . Through a yellow lens I see specters of worry dusting sulfur powder over every surface, every face . . . Through a black lens I see the world in smoke and darkness, hope shaded away, the eyes of The Skull . . . Through a pink lens I see salmon hues on blossoming lilies outside an abandoned limestone vault . . . Seeing those colors kaleidoscoping in me. I take off all lenses, clearly see the Light of life within and without me. The writer has written sacred and secular verse for many decades. He’s appeared in Ancient Paths, Prairie Messenger, The Lyric, The Anglican Theological Review, The Christian Century, The Merton Seasonal and Windhover. His Jesus Through A Poet’s Lens is available at Amazon. He is at petervenable.com and on Facebook.
Peter's other work on Foreshadow: A Saturday's Quartet (Poetry, June 2023) Truth Is Subjectivity (Poetry, April 2024) Behold (Poetry, May 2024) Jesus' Face (Poetry, June 2024) Imago Dei (Poetry, July 2024)
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By Joe Bisicchia a moment ago from now shall be as two thousand years a moment ahead from now shall be countless more for time knows no shutter speed except the moment now every moment speaks they all say to me veronica such wonder like words upon words no words just grace I simply say this-- upon my rags fixed let Who I see be no matter the distance piece by piece by the peace You leave You stay a face always in place An Honorable Mention recipient for the Fernando Rielo XXXII World Prize for Mystical Poetry, Joe Bisicchia has written four published collections of poetry. He also has written over 250 individual works that have been published in over 100 publications. To see more of his work, visit www.JoeBisicchia.com.
Joe's other work on Foreshadow: Driving to Emmaus (Poetry, May 2024) Burning Bush (Poetry, June 2024) Editorial note: One of the meanings of the name Veronica is 'true image', as derived from the Latin word vera ('true') and the Greek word eikon ('image'). By Megan Huwa saints of thunder and night, saints’ souls plundered for light-- bend low, and give Me your tears. I have come to glory: this life, this body turned upside-down is right-side-up, right by my side, kept, your hand cupped in My palm, I’ll draw you up. your brokenness is worth redeeming, My brokenness is your beauty. we grasp Your hand reaching near, and though we fear, You draw us to the Maker’s mirror: your surrender, My glory | My glory, your splendor Megan Huwa is a poet and writer in southern California. A rare health condition keeps her and her husband from living near her family’s five-generation farm in Colorado, so her writing reaches for home—both temporal and eternal. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Vita Poetica, Solum Literary Press, Calla Press, Ekstasis, Solid Food Press, San Antonio Review, The Midwest Quarterly, LETTERS Journal and elsewhere and featured on The Habit Podcast, Inkling Creative Strategies, and Fieldmoot. Follow her @meganhuwa or visit her website, meganhuwa.com.
Megan's other work on Foreshadow: prison's prism (Poetry, July 2024) By Scott Schuleit The leaf obeys its Creator, wavering its green in the tireless, unfailing wind. And the sky continually bears on its immense back a burden of blue. And when a storm comes on the clouds darken, weaving together without question, and from this, lightning looses its silver, its flicker and flash, always obeying with sudden bursts of illumination. The rain falls willingly, dropping down to pummel dry earth, mixing it into mud as it should, a task performed without hesitation, yet the dust, that which is most blessed, crowned over all creation, burns, burns with a rage deep in its breast. Scott Schuleit's poems have appeared in publication including Ekstasis, The Penwood Review and Christianity & Literature. The author of A Pernicious Correspondence: Letters from a Devil (Prevail Press, 2021), he also serves as an associate pastor.
By Claudia Wysocky Once again Diderot's beautiful ruin stands in the corner of my mind, the great book-city he described in Les Bijoux Indiscrets. It stands there with its cupola and wings and spires; the vast cranes that have been thrown up over the roofs, the towers of every color and shape, like laments; the wide-open windows that look out across the city's view: and here a rich man's palace, there a poor man's hovel, and everywhere the same old poverty and misery. The sun shines on Diderot's ruin, but it is not enough to warm the air. It glares on the golden spires and cupolas, and melts the stone and marble into liquid gold. The shadows lie across the dusty streets like a veil of fire; the scorched pavement is strewn with broken glass, with splinters of wood and bits of plaster; the dead leaves rustle, and amid that universal silence one hears the distant hum of a city in pain. Claudia Wysocky, a Polish writer and poet based in New York, is known for her diverse literary creations, including fiction and poetry. She authored All Up in Smoke, published by Anxiety Press. With over five years of writing experience, Claudia's work has been featured in local newspapers, magazines and even literary journals like WordCityLit and Lothlorien Poetry Journal. Her writing is powered by her belief in art's potential to inspire positive change. Claudia also shares her personal journey and love for writing on her own blog, and she expresses her literary talent as an immigrant raised in post-communism Poland.
By Royal Rhodes The veteran chaplain spoke of God sometimes hitting the still world with the force of a hint and poets like Eliot and later ones heard the hint itself understood in being called by love the chain of guesses in how you gesture in all the ways I yearn are brokenly offered, received like telescopes positioned in flat desert wastes that record processions of stars and a meteor flash your presence outside me and inside me gives me sudden breath that surpasses my breathing so that I exhale your name you give me in what was empty air that answers: I know the bright world I thought as whole was wholly you and from that living atlas it reveals only you here under a pear tree with temptations of being I can release the need to be other than one with you. Royal Rhodes taught religious studies for almost 40 years. His poems have appeared in various journals, including Ekstasis, Ekphrastic Review, The Seventh Quarry, and The Montreal Review, among others. His poetry and art collaborations have been published with The Catbird [on the Yadkin] Press in North Carolina.
Royal's other work on Foreshadow: A Road Through Ohio Spring (Poetry, April 2023) A Pilgrim's Song (Poetry, May 2023) Journey to Silence (Poetry, July 2023) Remember David (Poetry, July 2023) Magnolia (Poetry, October 2023) A Morning Walk into Light (Poetry, November 2023) A Crisis of Angels (Poetry, December 2023) Birth Night (Poetry, January 2024) Sweet the Wood, and Sweet the Nails (Poetry, May 2024) By Peter Venable “…the gods of the Ethiopians were inevitably black with flat noses while those of the Thracians were blond with blue eyes.” —Xenophanes From our projection booths we project shadowy images on the universal screen “God”—super- impose luminous and ominous features on Him (her, it) our own likeness-- and forecast our features on “God.” In our era God has more shades and shadows than light—so many see their “godly” silhouettes flicker against cave walls since all see through glass, darkly.* Peek into an eternal lens, back to a seer writing to his doubting workers in an ancient Greek city. With a few strokes of a reed pen, he inks He is the image of the invisible God.** *1 Cor 13:12, **Col 1:15 The writer has written sacred and secular verse for many decades. He’s appeared in Ancient Paths, Prairie Messenger, The Lyric, The Anglican Theological Review, The Christian Century, The Merton Seasonal and Windhover. His Jesus Through A Poet’s Lens is available at Amazon. He is at petervenable.com and on Facebook.
Peter's other work on Foreshadow: A Saturday's Quartet (Poetry, June 2023) Truth Is Subjectivity (Poetry, April 2024) Behold (Poetry, May 2024) Jesus' Face (Poetry, June 2024) By Megan Huwa the synchronicity of pain is my prison’s prism, and i am a sacred lonely. it stitches me in my concrete corset with its spellbound hold. but you see the color, and i wear the corset and ache in witness: to feel wing’s shadow, to see hue in night, for what is color but made in darkness and syncopated but refrain? your needle hems a gold- dusted chorus—faint, the weaning of life to the meaning of daynight’s dyes: from dust to gold to life-forged light, my glory-made sight. Megan Huwa is a poet and writer in southern California. A rare health condition keeps her and her husband from living near her family’s five-generation farm in Colorado, so her writing reaches for home—both temporal and eternal. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Vita Poetica, Solum Literary Press, Calla Press, Ekstasis, Solid Food Press, San Antonio Review, The Midwest Quarterly, LETTERS Journal and elsewhere and featured on The Habit Podcast, Inkling Creative Strategies, and Fieldmoot. Follow her @meganhuwa or visit her website, meganhuwa.com.
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