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anne cunningham

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Member Since: Mar, 2002

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Rules of the Hunt
by Hugh McCracken

Five schoolboy pals, on a dare, after dark sneak into a wood supposed to be haunted. The wood changes and they find themselves in an earlier, more savage, Scotland fighti..  
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Matchgirl Reborn
by anne cunningham

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Matchgirl, Reborn

Christian-Andersen's matchgirl,
reborn, I walk a winter's night,
having closed the gate on my vacant lot,
in search of something,
leaving the country path behind,
the sidewalks leading me in,
moon lighting my way,
the occasional street lamp to guide me.


Buttered windows dotting the night,
spilling over silver'd gardens,
love within, I without,
walking tall, a wind-whipped winter's night.


Each window offers me
a voyueristic peek into other worlds,
lives cast in high-ceiling'd rooms,
giant trees alight, tables of food,
the smell of a fire, bodies in brilliance,
shadows moving about, laughter,
the glow of a television,
an attic window ... who lies there?


I can only wonder, trudging onward,
hearing the pulse of music,
the slamming of a door,
a car starting, voices on the wind.


Deeper the town, long past houses,
I stand before a brick wall,
the biggest bar and restaurant,
city center, the roadies loading in,
as I round the corner, facing full windows,
like the little matchgirl,
basking in the final fire,
evaporating the walls to take my look inside.


How they laugh, tease,
pass the brew around, plates of appetizers,
the band roaring full force
as I turn my back, shutting out the light.


Retreating, retracing steps,
long walk home, hands numb, chilled bone,
the shimmering light of town,
the frosted lawns melting away, the noise,
all becoming a distant want,
as I mark my way towards home, final tracks,
sky so clear, bespecked with silver,
my head high, eyes on the watch.


I need only see your falling star,
my reminder, dead perhaps, yet my soul's mate,
the holiday season drawing nigh',
remembering you well, I am warm within.


*****

..."And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--they were with the angel LEON!"  -HCAndersen with the exception of LEON!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD WRITE. 

photo art by pbtenso


 




 

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Reviewed by Regis Auffray
"Buttered windows dotting the night,
spilling over silver'd gardens,
love within, I without,
walking tall, a wind-whipped winter's night." I love these words very much as well as the whole poetic creation. Thank you for this offering, Anne. Love and peace to you. Regis


Reviewed by Nicole Davis Vergara (Reader)
This is BEAUTIFUL VERSES Anne...B E A U T I F U L!!!!
~Nikki~
Reviewed by Amor Sabor
Truly a magnificent piece of work, Anne. I wish you and yours a joyous season.
Amor
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner
(((anne)))

a creative, splendid write--well done *BRAVA, dear friend*

(((HUGS))) and merry christmas and a year full of inspiration

love,

karla. :)
Reviewed by No Longer Member (Reader)
I think that this is a wonderful, wonderful intelligent right.
Reviewed by Debashish Haar (Reader)
I love the way you weave your verses..merging so many styles together..SPLENDID work..HAPPY HOLIDAYS/...

Debs
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Once optioned for a movie, now on Kindle also, "The Climbing Boy" is a magical Christmas tale that deserves to become a new Dickens like classic. The Climbing Boy can now..  
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