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Friends, I'm delighted to feature Niall M. Oliver, author of the chapbook My Boss (Hedgehog Press, 2020) along with his heartfelt poems, "I Could Eat You Up" (previously published by Fly On The Wall Press), and heretofore unpublished, "Five Memories." Thank you, Niall, for allowing me to feature your fine poetry! I Could Eat You Up I absolutely could! says your Grandmother, as she shares you around like a birthday cake. She claims your elegant fingers for herself, then serves your sturdy farmer’s legs to Grandad. Beaming Aunties are dished your perfect smile, whilst your eyes go to your Mum, just as they did that first moment you lay glazed and sticky on her skin. For me? Not as much as a toe, so I wait patiently until everyone goes, then piece you back together, smoothing your joins with my lips. I place your ear to my heart, and whisper you to rest, as you send out puff after puff of buttercream breath-- my generous boy, still giving in your sleep. Five Memories Grandad Charlie was missing a finger-joint on his right hand. The skin around the stub felt waxy and tough like the flesh of an almond. He owned a brown Fiat with orange peel textured seats. One Easter he drove me to the beach and held my bucket as I collected shells and pebbles. Once when I had fever, he nursed me on his lap, and fed me sips of Lucozade from a glass bottle wrapped in crinkly yellow cellophane. On Sundays, when my parents were at mass, we’d sit religiously by the window, and give nick- names to the chapel people walking past. When I was eight he died of cancer. I kicked and cried to get away from his bedside. After his funeral I ate jam tarts in the parish hall. And that’s all I can recall, about Grandad Charlie.  Niall M. Oliver
lives in Ireland with his wife and three sons. His poems have appeared in Acumen, Atrium, The Honest Ulsterman, Ink Sweat & Tears, as well as several other journals. He is the author of My Boss (Hedgehog Poetry Press, 2020), and his latest pamphlet I Want To Tell You Something To Remember, will be published by Nine Pens later this year (2023). Niall is on wordpress at: https://niallmoliverpoetry.wordpress.com/ It's a pleasure to introduce this week's featured poet, Julie Stevens. Julie is an active part of the online poetry community, who writes from her home in the U.K. Here are her inspiring poems, "Sail Away" and "You Won't Stop Me." Thank you, Julie, for sharing your words! Sail Away  You Won't Stop Me   Julie Stevens writes poems that cover many themes, but often engages with the problems of disability. She is widely published in places such as Strix, Ink Sweat & Tears, Fly on the Wall Press, and Acropolis Journal. She has two published pamphlets: Quicksand (Dreich, 2020) and a Stickleback, Balancing Act (Hedgehog Poetry Press, 2021). Her collection Step Into the Dark will be published by Hedgehog Poetry Press.
www.jumpingjulespoetry.com / Twitter @julesjumping Today's spotlight shines brightly on the talent of Pushcart-nominated poet, Jared Povanda! It's an honor to feature his poems, "Via Dolorosa" and "Burning Party" (with thanks and first publish credits to Stone Circle Review, and Eunoia Review, respectively). Thank you, Jared, for sharing your words. Via Dolorosa Christmas Eve has come again, and I kneel under stained glass, under Simon of Cyrene bearing Jesus’ cross on his thin back, and I wonder if anyone has ever licked him there-- between Simon’s shoulders, up his spine, tongue a pine bough, a path of salt and piety longer than the road to Calvary. I wonder if Simon had ever kissed Jesus on the mouth before abiding the weight of agony across his shoulders, loss upending the secret tenderness he carried inside himself like a second heart, and I wonder if God has made me wrong in my wondering of these things, but it’s snowing outside, flakes as light and small as pennyroyal, the world suddenly perfect filigree on the cover of some browning book covered by feet of silent snow; stillness bestowed by a nimble God. Look: a line of footsteps on the outside walk. Look: whole forests of ice outside the church window, fishers and nightingales, the final crack of fragrant branches weighed by leaden white. Burning Party I’m tired, and I wish I had more money for books about people who are tired and wished they had more money for books. My chest is on fire from acid reflux, rarely from excitement, but I’m still breathing. I’m working on celebrating all these little victories: I didn’t fall asleep on my keyboard today. I didn’t cry over my health insurance. I didn’t stop. “Where is my niche?” I often ask myself when I feel like this. Where is the little nook where I can press myself into the walls like clean laundry plugging leaks? Candy melting on the stove is for burning, not sweetness, but why can’t I have a burning party? Why can’t I strike match after match until the absence of light feels as alien as I do?  Jared Povanda is a writer, poet, and freelance editor from upstate New York. He also edits for the literary journal Bulb Culture Collective. He has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and multiple times for both Best of the Net and Best Microfiction, and published in numerous literary journals including Wigleaf, The Citron Review, and Fractured Literary. You can find him online @JaredPovanda, jaredpovandawriting.wordpress.com, and in the Poets & Writers Directory.
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SHINE - International Poetry Series
Curated by Samantha Terrell
From the international poetry community, we have a "luxury of stars," as Sylvia Plath might say, and it is my honor to provide a home for their words through SHINE Poetry Series.
NOW IN PRINT!
Stars Over the Dordogne
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