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Lagniappe Submissions Christina Marie Umscheid was born 1946 in Weiden, West Germany was raised in Saint Louis, Missouri and has lived in Petoskey, Michigan since 1976. Publishings include such magazines as; CHICAGO REVIEW, HIRAM POETRY REVIEW, CALIBAN, ODYSSEY, THE POETRY REVIEW, NEGATIVE CAPABILITY, THE OLD RED KIMONO, GREAT LAKES REVIEW, HURON REVIEW, THE MAC GUFFIN, SOU'WESTER, GREAT MIDWESTERN QUARTERLY and MOONSHADE(e-zine and paper). My debut on the Internet e-zine, WORLD POETRY, was December 1996. Since then I have appeared in several other e-zines such as BLUE PENNY QUARTERLY, SWITCHED-ON GUTENBERG, SNAKESKIN, and THE POETRY SUPER HIGHWAY. I have been published in three substantial anthologies such as SILVER LININGS, The other Side of Cancer edited by Shirley M. Gullo and published by the Oncology Nursing Society 1997, VOICES OF MICHIGAN, Anthology of Michigan's Finest Writers 1999 and have 19 poems in the anthology AT THE EDGE OF MIRROR LAKE 1999. |
TRAVELING THE GHAZAL ROAD In glazed white heat, compressed air signals a storm's onset. Along the asphalt scenes come and go. Chicory haze softens meadows with lavender. Golden rod weeps dust on fingers remembering. The road flashes. Colors stroke nature and man. Clouds of clover flavor lawns, while a stretch of marsh sinks sadness deep to bones. Lines cut paths. Horses once pioneered these trails. Porches carry silence indoors. Deep inside city pockets, people follow their daily chores. The road edges along Spaces shorten. Crowds of brick and mortar gather round like clothes, some tattered, some worn. Edges of movement come closer as people slide past. Even the road slows and stops, slows and stops. Motions grind together, city and road snap into one. GHAZAL DREAM MOVEMENT Hollowed out dreams stand starving, with stomachs bloated and empty. The purple sky slides into grey and black. Clouds lose their definition. Spines of trees break the sky's softness while in the distance, the lighthouse beacon blinks. Empty hands bring rain and soak the distance. My eyes return to redness. My body bare of touch plays silent as the harp without strings. I am moving time along the edge of railroad tracks, clicking moments over calendar wheels. Black night is pressed against the window, fearless. Lights burn inside closed eyes. Snow drifts across my thinking, freezing rain and letting sunlight catch my eyes open. Winter slides inside me in whiteness that brings forth birth and wrinkles memories. I wake as the nightmare dissolves. Hunger grows into meaning while faces become full GHAZAL DIRECTIONS The whale holds oceans together as the eagle braces the sky. Old gods foam with anger, their eyes string beads around our necks. Silver moths stroke skin as night touches our hands. Powder brushes iridescent in broad Gauguin shades. There is something grotesque about firecracker mornings as light ruptures vision into color. There is no fighting the sky that opens. Cracks break sound and flash electric waves. Clouds will not cover upturned corners that divide my face. I cannot force rain to fight my battle. There is no turning over. Sidewalks lay their slickness into ice. Winter is layered, stone upon stone that crushes air What is a dream but a door not open. A ring of keys dangle and dance from the door. Christina Maria Umsheid  Home
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Come follow me and leave the world to its babblings.
- Dante 
La Petite |
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