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  November 2017
volume 14 number 2
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  featured poets
  Jonathan Beale
  Marjorie R Becker
  Catherine Berry
  Robert Beveridge
  Bill Cunningham
  Jack Harvey
  Robert S King
  Cynthia Linville
  Genie Nakano
  Jared Pearce
  Margarita Serafimova
  Jeanne Marie Spicuzza
  RK Wallace
  Kelley White
 
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Bill Cunningham November 2017
   

 

bio

    After a long career as a university professor, Bill began giving more time to writing poems and stories. He shared some of his writings with friends, who then gave him homework -- write a ‘shorty’ on an assigned topic. He wrote (often more than one) by next day or so. Philadelphia Buddhist Association gave him a surprise party in fall of 2015, in which Bill and son-in-law, Michael, read some of these writings. People liked them and published them in a small book - one hour presentation.
    Bill's book, called, Tell Me a Story: Collected Writings, is distributed by Amazon in both digital and paperback editions (2016). Bill is also co-founder (with Amy van Brug), of the Stapeley Poetry Society in Philadelphia.
    Bill continues to explore many forms of writing: Haiku; sonnets; longer narrative poems; historical stories; memoria; and others. He often focuses on quietly showing extraordinary aspects arising in ordinary daily life.

   

 

Facing Wall

facing a cave wall
a buddha unspeakable taught
are you awake yet

copyright 2017 Bill Cunningham

   

 

Sandy's Birthday

Born sixty years ago, today.
His toy creations took lots of room.
Creative play was his forte;
All expunged one sunny afternoon.

How are we such an event to weigh?
It made the cosmos seem out of tune,
So its music never again would play.
But no one else knew it, nor saw our gloom.

Some asked about her bandages.
Each answer brought more questions, ‘til:
“He’s going to be alright -- - isn’t he?”
Oh, question dreaded most of all!

“He’s dying in a hospital,” we say.
As we, taking tea and scone,
Get through another day.
And return to his hospital room,

Where his frail little body lay,
Now many colors -- - black, yellow, red, maroon.
He should have lived ‘til his hair turned grey.
Death came far too soon.

           Sandy would have been sixty today.
            He died before he was six.

copyright 2017 Bill Cunningham

   

 

Winter

colder longer nights
activates our ursine side
more slumber each night

copyright 2017 Bill Cunningham