By Bryant Burroughs I wish there were letters from heaven, the return address of my mother and dad, not for an insider’s scoop on happenings there nor answers to the Big Questions, but to feel them again in their script, their sentences: my mother’s encouragement, my father’s counsel. I know the angels, though many, are too busy with God’s matters to deliver mundane messages like some owl at Hogwarts. But if they had an assignment here, could they not drop postcards and letters from the clouds? A voice inside me and yet not me, a very familiar voice, says, “You are their letters. They wrote their hearts onto yours.” It’s not enough, I think. But then I look and listen with all my heart. Bryant Burroughs is a poet and short story creator whose work has appeared in online literary sites such as Agape Review, Clayjar Review, Pure in Heart Stories and Faith and Hope & Fiction. His first collection of poetry is published as Where Do My Words Go? Bryant lives with his wife Ruth and three cats in Upstate South Carolina.
Bryant's other work on Foreshadow: The Widow Whose Son Lived (Fiction, July 2022) The Youngest Day (Poetry, November 2022) The Widow's Psalm (Poetry, February 2023) The Leper and the Healer (Fiction, May 2023) Pearls of Ignatius (Poetry, August 2023) Song of the Star (Poetry, December 2023) A Long Walk Toward God (Poetry, January 2024) All the Dead Heard His Voice (Poetry, March 2024)
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By Peter Venable Warner Sallman’s 1940 “Head of Christ”-- stained-glass portrait, dust framed in church parlors, looking sideways. Stately. Jesus? No sir, Jesus had no Greek nose, no shoulder-crested flaxen hair, no Germanic cobalt eyes But a Galilean tan-- Hebrew nose-- piercing russet eyes-- curly black hair-- dusty beard. At the food pantry they come with open plastic and cloth bags as we pack juice, cereal, beef stew cans, toothpaste and at the counter: whose face looks at 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) By Joe Bisicchia You appear, dangling that current vessel which presumably once held wine. You offer yourself to a world that is deaf and blind as you sit on your steps outside some old forgotten church, surely hungry and just another avoidable homeless figure you are. I am, you say, and I cannot turn my eyes away. No blistering light like a regretful awakening. Rather, glory of heaven ever near and welcoming. You are for the poor and yet rich, the homeless, home, in what otherwise would be a Godforsaken old town for us all if not for the image and likeness of the Burning Bush here. 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) By Peter Venable spring twilight. The backyard porch. Frankincense wafts to rafters, as it did eons ago in Ephratah. Child, sit down! We have honored Magi. A bright star twinkles above dark pines-- the beacon then? Ghost crabs burrow in my skin. Sand fleas scamper in sea-oat hair. Leg worts burgeon like barnacled pilings. These saltwater channels narrow, motor sputters, chipped propellers idle. The stern leaks and steering wheel loosens in dead calm. My last blink will look like winter cottage shutters. Behold, I tell you a mystery—we shall all be changed. in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye . . . * Crickets’ serenade. Glow of Incense burns out. The North Star, past The Milky Way, beyond Hubble’s peek, speaks the greatest mystery, I shall be raised a spiritual body. * *1 Cor. 15.51, 44. 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) By Joe Bisicchia You and I have labored the way, the one Sinatra sings. Tried to force our way straight. Despite all the inevitable swerves. Never works. You and I eventually meet every day, intertwine, crash, or pass on by. We have somehow rutted the orbit over and over again. Have never arrived at the choice-point, or so we thought. Perhaps we suffer too much hate. Of ourselves. Of this place. Too much road rage. Perhaps we suffer too much self-admiration to notice beyond the rearview mirror how bread breaks in every face as wondrously this-- the precious presence of the Gift. To see Who God is. 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.
By Ryan Keating The way a crumpled page torn from the hymnal looks like a landscape of snow stained with earth falling freely and the paint on your cheeks is peeling in the manger in the scene suspended on the wall of the church in worship, o come, o come, Emmanuel singing through us in our voices together rising as word breathed into life by heart, and by hand make every page smooth, every cheek retouched and new, and this living temple healed and holy. Ryan Keating is a writer, pastor, and winemaker on the Mediterranean island of Cyprus. His work can be found in publications such as Saint Katherine Review, Ekstasis Magazine, Amethyst Review, Macrina Magazine, Fathom, Dreich, Vocivia and Miras Dergi, where he is a regular contributor in English and Turkish.
Ryan's other work on Foreshadow: Jonah Moves (Poetry, September 2022) Drawing from Deep Wells: Ryan Keating and Pilgrimage (Interview, February 2023) The Wine Remembers (Poetry, June 2023) Presence (Poetry, June 2023) Snapshot of a Man in Front of a Mural (Poetry, March 2024) By Jane Blanchard The Spirit moved across the Earth, And what was made was given worth; Since man and woman chose to sin, Their children must be born again. So those enslaved could be set free, There was a parting of the Sea; And still they wandered through the sand Until they reached the Promised Land. Yet sadly predisposed to err, They proved unfaithful anywhere; The Son who would deliver them At last was born in Bethlehem. This Savior showed them how to love, Thus how to serve the One above; He made the Father pleased and proud, So said the Spirit to the crowd. Christ, knowing why he had been sent, Proved perfectly obedient; When prayer did not spare him the cup, The cross indeed was lifted up. Within the tomb he would not stay So followers could learn the way; Once he ascended, they felt lost Until the gift of Pentecost. Let all of us each day embrace A life of goodness, peace, and grace; Redeemed, baptized, sustained, inspired, We have what Eden’s own desired. A native Virginian, Jane Blanchard lives and writes in Georgia, USA.
'Continuum' was first published in Intégrité. It has been republished here with the author's permission. Jane's other work on Foreshadow: Liturgy (Poetry, November 2023) By Peter Venable Wrightsville. Wind blustery at thirty knots. On the horizon leviathan thunderheads advance, promise a deluge too soon for comfort. Wind surfers zigzag between Crystal Pier and Wier Rock Jetty, their crescent sails like painted sickles of aqua, crimson, and lime, cleave through whitecaps and skirt each other. One pelican guides inches above waves, black-tipped wings steering his purpose. From the pier two pigeons scud across, land, court, bob and rub their bills, brazenly mate by blankets of curvaceous co-ends. A tattooed guy points, thumbs up. A couple cuddles like spoons oblivious to winds, sails, pigeons-- she coos, he groans as a few feathers blow over dunes and God knows where. Thunder. Windsurfers tack to shore-- bathers stream to the street-- a beach umbrella somersaults-- pigeons fly to roosts under the pier. Rain pours graphite sheets, smudging seagulls, sandpipers, and one wet-suited surfer riding a crest seconds before lightning strikes. 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) By Evie Huang your Beauty is a glowing lamp that bursts through the night, no, it’s blinding me, no filling me with light, no, the lamp transforms into a work of art it’s transforming into an echo of myself morphing between me and You and meandYouandYouandme i reach for your presence and words are tumbling from my mouth to the ceiling, creating holy ground but it is all somehow inadequate. i keep digging deeper and deeper and then there is an aching arrow in my heart i pull it out and gaze at the wound, burned clean by your blood. i feel a sharp soreness in my soul but it is welcome. the rivers well up and overflow, my voice is breaking under the weight of it all for You are cleaning me from the inside out. and as i bow down on bended knees, i see You in my own reflection lighting the way. Evie Huang is an emerging author of poetry, songs and more. She is currently an undergraduate student at Azusa Pacific University and was raised in Southern California, where she still lives and works. Follow her on Instagram at @jubileespoems.
Evie's other work on Foreshadow: I will fill this house with glory (Poetry, September 2023) By Royal Rhodes Some ancient saints said crucifixes spoke -- just tales we thought designed for simple folk. Yet now as all my terrors I must face I hear my name, but voiced with matchless grace, channeled by the artist in this art that both convicts me and redeems my heart. My will be done -- not his -- my self-volition bred despair that hungers for contrition. A toxin -- my devices and desires -- poison heart and lungs as life expires. Catastrophes this routed flesh must bear, as drugged and dying eyes at nothing stare. My sight-lines now must zero in on loss, yet shadows hold the outline of his cross. Light from Light, the Logos took on flesh that let humanity and Godhead mesh. Can mortal darkness break in sudden light? A poet wrote this: Look ! The West grows bright. Like the tree in Eden at our Fall, this tree restores that Paradise for all. Like me, he wept, yet wiped my every tear. Love itself is what had brought him here. 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) |
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