New Poetry, Fiction, Essays

Featured poet.

My name is Eileen Hugo and I am a poet. I am retired and doing all the things I love.
The Austin International Poetry Festival was one of my favorite places to listen to and read poetry. Four of my poems have been chosen for the Di-verse-city Anthology. I also won a first prize for The Competition in the David Osgood Poetry Contest.
I have been published in the anthologies Southern Breezes and The Baby Boomer Birthright published by Poet Works Press, and most recently The Taste Of Ink a collaboration of poets from Mid-Coast Maine. I also served time as the Poetry Editor for The Houston Literary Review.
In April of 2015 my book Not Too Far was published.



Grandfather’s Passing

The aunties with scarves around their head
they brought cake and cookies galore
a little sweetness for a day of the dead
the sadness of loss strikes our core

They brought cakes and cookies galore
but we aren’t going to celebrate
the sadness of loss strikes our core
this is the time to congregate

But we aren’t going to celebrate
the aunties know how to mourn
this is the time to congregate
hidden in scarves their faces forlorn

The aunties know how to mourn
a little sweetness for a day of the dead
hidden in scarves their faces forlorn
The aunties with scarves around their head



Car Kissing in the Rain

Rain drops made circles and moved down
the windows in small rivers that branched
out and down to the hood of the car
heavy rain drummed the roof and our pulses
it was steamy outside and in
with the curtain drawn passions escalated
but this was car kissing nothing more





Under the silken tent
small white mice
rode little pink bikes.
The ringmaster dressed in black
tapped his staff against the back
of the pirouetting elephant named Ella
who wore a blue tutu, dressed like Cinderella.
The tigers chased tails until they turned into butter.

The boys that ran the rides
white tee shirts with rolled up sleeves
a pack of Luckies held inside.
Always tanned, dirty shoes and jeans
yet somehow exciting enticing.
The Whip dizzying stomach churning
I knew he spun me more than the others.
I waited for him to undo the bar to let me out
Thanks for the ride. What’s your name?
Name is Ray.
Like a magnet I circled around the gates.




The cherries blossom
Pink snow drifts across new grass
Spring confetti lingers

Color of tree frogs
Touching ground to mate and spawn
Transform green to grey

New born mosquitos
Buzz around the vernal pools
Thirsting for our blood

Forsythia yellow
Shows off in barely April
Look at my petals





In blackest night we seek the beach
hardly able to see we laugh giddy
floating in the light of the moon
we walk until we reach the water
sand flows between our toes

I shiver he holds me we are warm
together we talk of forever
as the water surrounds us climbing
up our bodies till we run away
to our blanket where we watch the stars

reflecting on the water reflecting
in our eyes he is my astronomer
pointing to Sagittarius and Taurus
he is my north star my compass rose



Hotel Room

The rug is thread-bare and damp on my bare feet.
I close the blinds trying to ignore the bent and missing ones
He is lying naked wanting and waiting for me.
What the hell I am doing here?
Mr. Self-centered is unattractive and boorish
nothing about this moment is what I dreamed
The room is as tawdry as the idea of an affair
I grab my shoes on the way out.




The Illegal

Moon and clouds conspire
on this darkest night
we hide wait for the boat
wait for our cousin Louisa
who returns to her mother.
Through the quiet river
the slow boat wallows its oars slashing.
We hide behind the border fence
a pile of blocks to keep all out.
At this place near the water
at a break in the stone
we wait for Louisa.
As the boat staggers closer
impatiently she jumps out and swims
towards the brush through eel grass.
Her legs pumping she slows
grass entangling her legs
struggling until by the bushes.
we pull her up and through the pile of blocks
Louisa at last in her mother’s arms warm
but not safe.




You might also like

And The Winners Are-

Spring Summer Chapbook Contest Winners. Our guest judge, Southlight editor, Vivien Jones announces her winners in CBC III as well as talking about the quality

Read More »

Stephen House

Stephen House: has had many plays commissioned and produced. He’s won two Awgie Awards (Australian Writers Guild), The Rhonda Jancovic Poetry Award for Social Justice,

Read More »

Share this post with your friends

You may also enjoy
Jane Simmons is a retired teacher/lecturer who is now studying…