January - 2021

Abstract lion in bold orange, yellow, and browns, with streaks of light streaming outward. Image by Peri Priatna, on Pixabay.

Tuesday Tips: Can You Teach an Old Poem New Tricks?

(dog, sleeping, image by jevansch, on Pixabay) Can you teach an old poem new tricks? Let’s say you have a poem that’s been around a while, maybe you’ve submitted it once or twice, but no one’s snatched it up. (There’s no accounting for taste.) Do you stuff it back in a drawer, move it to the “don’t hold your breath” file, or—try to make it better? As writers we need to be honest with ourselves. Are we willing to change what we’ve written? Not just remove a word or add a comma

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Tight Bud Waiting to Unfold: Essay by Lynda McKinney Lambert

(butterfly, photo by Lynda McKinney Lambert) “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” ~ Anaïs Nin Eventually, it happens. We begin to think about universal questions asked by every human being from recorded history to the present moment. Who am I? Why am I here at this precise time? What is my purpose? Where am I going? For a large part of my life, I accepted that my art and writing life were separate from my

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Simple Attention: Two Poems by Madlynn Haber

redstart bird, image by Wolfgang Vogt, on Pixabay Simple Attention The ordinary, very usual, almost unnoticeable calls my attention. Shining sunlight through a prism hanging in a window casts rainbows on floor, walls, my writing hand, the edges of the page. Yawning with little to say, a simple, everyday soul seeks my attention, too. I respond with presence. Not every moment needs applause. ____________________ When Suffering Spoke The suffering spoke. It could no longer be si

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Poem by EG Ted Davis

wood texture, image by Lars Nissen, on Pixabay I saw and I wept I saw an image of Christ today— carved out of wood in a crucifixion pose... and I wept. ______________ EG Ted Davis' poetry has appeared in various online and in print literary journals and in miscellaneous Christian publications.

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Three Shells in a Bowl: Poems by Juan Pablo Mobili

sandy beach, image by axe20, on Pixabay The Crickets The crickets from the afternoon shift are livelier than they’ve been in a long time, they are good friends of my whole family, they helped us negotiate more than one interminable silence and uncertainty, those times you’d swear you lived in a small village, with an unexploded bomb in the town square. Our relationship goes way back when years, it’s already a long time months, borderline long and days, still a fresh wound. Wh

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Morning Song: Three Poems by Mark Weinrich

Psalms, image by G Johansen, on Pixabay MORNING SONG Bird songs pipe, chime, their prelude breaks the veil. I wonder when I close my eyes the final time, will I awake to music? Perhaps to psalms as Jesus sang that last Passover night before He died. I hope when spiritual ears first hear, that Jesus’ voice will ring as on that night, when His disciples heard what I have longed for all my life. I will hear and see and rise in praise… ______________________ ONE SEED From every o

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Haiku Meditations: by Kim R. Deslaurier

river, image by Kim R. Deslaurier river's destiny something greater than itself we are all called forth ______________ Minnows Sparklers in the water silvery sleek jump for flies leaving water rings ______________ Covid Time I'm drawn to people but I've learned an in-house way a closeness to God ______________ Kim R. Deslaurier taught writing for 20 years, and while her students were writing, she was writing with them. Highlights in her life have been receiving a National Wri

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Living Water: Two Poems by P.C. Venable

car, image by Selim Geçer, on Pixabay Living Water Another tropical storm from the gulf bullies through Carolina. Dreary deluge, windless, fall leaves dangle, plunge to lawns and confetti the deck. In the screened porch, my glasses fog. I finger my makeshift wooden-beaded rosary with a tiny, wooded cross sandwiched between ten beads. First ten, “Abba, Father, thank you.” Touch the cross, “Our Father, who art in heaven . . .” Next ten, “Lord Jesus, thank you.” Touch the cross,

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Prepare: a poem by Cindy Bousquet Harris

(waterfall, image by Mannilei, on Pixabay) Prepare Prepare for blessings, prepare for beauty, prepare for God’s mercy and compassion, His unstoppable love, His grace and kindness poured out through His Blood, His redeeming death, His triumphant Resurrection— and every day since, every dewdrop, every silence, every song of praise, each ray of sun and glimmer from the stars; prepare for God’s peace that passes understanding, incomprehensible forgiveness like gushers, like torre

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SPIRIT FIRE REVIEW

Celebrating God's Goodness through Poetry, Creative Nonfiction, Visual Art, and Music