Archives for posts with tag: witers

Grade 7
School Picture Grade Seven
by Carol A. Stephen

That day I went to school forgetting what day it was,
forgetting to gussy-up for the school pic, that annual event
to freshen up your collection of tiny wallet pics, crammed
in an oversize, 100-photo wallet girls carried back then,
constant companion chronicling the latest dreadful mugshots
and silly poses four for a quarter taken in a photo booth at the fair.
Mine was shiny plastic, blue and white squares, its strap torn,
no longer closing around the wallet’s fat girth.

That day I wore a white sweater, a Black Watch tartan skirt,
my favourite gold pendant with its dark green fake emerald.
Glass, really, but at 11, an emerald to me. I’d have been presentable, but
my goodness! My hair! Not sure now, but I’d probably slept in,
rushed off too quickly to remember to brush those always unruly curls
A few swipes might have saved me the glow of bright red face back then,
and now, to see that hair all these years later as my brother sifts old      pictures
and decides to share the photo one more time on Facebook.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Whenever I think of bad hair days, this particular photo comes to mind. It keeps turning up like a bad penny, even though it was so many years ago. Most recently, my brother, Norm, found a copy of the small, wallet-size one, and brought it back to life again, as described in the poem. But I haven’t forgotten the feeling I had on that day when I realized it was the day for pictures.


Carol A. Stephen 
is a Canadian poet. Her poetry has appeared in Bywords Quarterly Journal and two Tree Press/phaphours press collaborative chapbooks. You can also find Carol’s poems on-line at and in videos at Twice shortlisted,  in 2012 Carol won third place in Canadian Authors Association National Capital Writing Contest. She’s the author of three chapbooks, Above the Hum of Yellow JacketsArchitectural Variations, and Ink Dogs in my Shoes (2014), as well as a new collaborative chapbook with JC Sulzenko, titled Breathing Mutable Air (2015). ). A second collaborative chapbook of ekphrastic poems, Slant of Light, will be forthcoming in Spring, 2016. Visit her at

The Moon, the Wind and the Sea
by S. Eta Grubešić

In my grandma´s old house
Next to the stony seashore
The wind speaks to me quietly
Rustling through oleanders
The curious Moon
In the window
Resembling a jar full of fireflies
Listen, honey,
The Moon, sea and me
Three magical powers on the Earth
Young and old at the same time
The Moon which evokes feelings
Sometimes it´s on top of the chimney
Just like a Christmas decoration
Sometimes it´s in the bucket full of water
Swimming like a goldfish
Sometimes it shines joylessly
Through the veil of lace clouds
Sometimes it sends smiles to the whole world
Sometimes it´s red from love and
Sometimes it´s blue from the cold.
Insomnia is my magic power
The wind whispers
I never sleep
There are as many days in the year
As my faces
I leave no stone unturned
Sometimes I take the night from the window away
I leave a small frog on the doorstep
I cover myself in lavender
And I hang a hat
On a lamppost
And the sea . . . the sea . . .
Is born every night
It arrives on the crab´s back
And it sings and roars
And it caresses and seethes
Going back among the rocks in the morning
To long journeys
With a lot of foam
To the unknown depths
Who knows when they will stop
All those magic powers, I wonder . . .
The magic never ends
My grandma´s voice replies
From the other side of eternity
It continues to exist even when we´re gone
Everything will become clear to you in the morning, my dear.

PHOTOGRAPH: The author at age nine on the Adriatic Sea, Croatia.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: My grandma had a great influence on my life. She explained to me all the beauties and sorrows of the world in simple words: everything changes, my dear. And everything stays, forever.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: S. Eta Grubešić is a short-story writer, poet, and photographer who lives in Croatia. Her literary works have been published in various electronic journals, collections of stories, and magazines.