John Thelin has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2025 Poetry Contest Pennies from Heaven Soon they will stop minting pennies. I will miss their crusty copper ridges, Abe Lincoln in profile, a calming image as he stares into a future he could never imagine over 150 years ago. Time stretches, an elastic band, for a while, then snaps back on itself, leaves a welt on a wrist that tries to flick a fishing line perfectly into a pond on a lazy summer day that can cloud over while you doze, wake to a smell … Continue reading Pennies from Heaven by J. R. Thelin→
I know at least four Virginia poets with books published this year so it seems timely to recommend some fall reading, gifting, or perhaps simply to raise awareness of our local bards. There is also the matter of reverence for place and all writing that is a reflection of our chosen hill, where our consciousness plays out, our miracle of aliveness, our thousands of breakfasts and tying of shoelaces. There is also, I confess, a splash of self-promotion. That said, I hope this list leads at least a few people into the mystery of one … Continue reading Local’s Corner by Sharon Perkins Ackerman→
Rebecca Faulkner is the 2nd place winner of Streetlight’s 2025 Poetry Contest Father’s Day Mum says I have a new family now, matter-of-fact with the tea brewing. A half-sister who rides her shiny bike without training wheels, plush carpet hugs her staircase. Suppers in the car nights he drives me home, fish & chips steam the windows. My eyes vinegar-itch but I will not cry. Weekends he fails to fix the bird-feeder, spilling seed in my sandals while I jostle sparrows for crumbs. When he’s back I’ll make him read Charlotte’s Web, work busily like … Continue reading Father’s Day by Rebecca Faulkner→
Years ago, before I decided to bite the bullet and embrace the soul crushing rejection that often goes with Being A Writer, I decided to try my hand at substitute teaching. I realized my mistake almost immediately. Part of the problem was Miss T., a school secretary who’d call before the sun rose to line-up her fill-ins. She scared the hell out of me. And not just because she carried herself like a linebacker. Shed done an on-the-spot personality assessment to determine how best to keep me in her stable—correctly settling on a combo of … Continue reading The Wrong Turn On My Career Path, From Which I’m Still Recovering A Quarter Century Later by Erika Raskin→
Artist Barbara MacCallum claims androgyny as her creative terrain. “I’m interested in male and female, nothing too macho or too feminine but the gap in between,” she says. Her highly original, intimate and imaginative work combines sculpture, drawing, textiles and installation. Blending male and female elements, MacCallum’s works are graceful, mysterious, emotional, and challenging. “My work has evolved through a collaborative relationship with my husband (Robert Johnson) who is a physicist; I cast his body and recycle his published papers giving a new existence to the detritus of science,” she says.. Johnson is a professor … Continue reading Barbara MacCallum’s Androgynous Art→
Abby Murray is the 1st place winner of Streetlight’s 2025 Poetry Contest Of All the Qualities She Could Have Inherited She carries my penchant for flowers she hasn’t learned to identify as weeds. she brings me dandelions, red clover, morning glories, buttercups, even scotch broom, and I prop them up in a vodka bottle on the windowsill because she can’t believe her luck, how nobody fought to collect these beauties before she did, how she found them heaped on yard waste piles or reaching up from the cement or clay beneath utility poles and … Continue reading Of All the Qualities She Could Have Inherited by Abby Murray→
The first time that my brother and I had gone sailing without Dad. The first time we checked the weather and set a course like real navigators. The first time we had an important destination, the sailmaker’s loft, to pick up a new spinnaker. Mom seemed dubious, as her brows arched silently questioning my skills as a newly minted skipper. Her fourteen-year-old son now charged with the safety of his younger brother, Dan, three years his junior. I didn’t have any concerns as we grabbed our bicycles from the tool shed and headed for the … Continue reading A Day of Firsts by David Stern→
They tried to protect us from the TV as it vomited unspeakable news straight from Cronkite, night after night Age six, I snuck looks at the evening news a few times, a ticker at the bottom of the screen announcing the death of solider after soldier. The ashes fell like rain. Much later, I learned about the red death the world had witnessed, brought to us in black and white every night. Mom cried. It was 1968. Now, 60 years gone, I stand at the top of Crabtree Falls, a hike Mom loved when she … Continue reading The Tet Offensive by Debbie Collins→
If the river is a metaphor for life and death, for time, and loss of time, for the rise and fall of seasons, for disastrous floods that carry hope downstream and leave stinking mud in its place, what then, when a river dies? You can see the river from atop concrete steps with granite tread that lead from the cobblestone along the current’s edge to the manicured grass and pruned trees of federal land beneath the stainless-steel legs of the Arch. The Museum of Westward Expansion is closed for renovation. This river was once the … Continue reading Ephemeral Streams by Richard Stimac→
The working title for my forthcoming poetry book is A Furious Surrendering: Poems for Navigating the Unraveling. The title poem contains these lines: ……………… ….These days being alive feels like ……………… ….flank speed in roughening seas. ……………… ….These days we evolve at speeds ……………… … Continue reading These Days by William Prindle→
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