Writings

  Red tinted wings soaring over whitened wintry steppes Flocks of cardinals murmur to the heavens A dawn-winged damsel frozen in the Cocytus of a man’s maddened mind One day they heard her languid lament A voice stuttering silent syllables Echoing amidst the veiled vortex of terror and death Whom does she belong to now Who can now hear the plumed flailing of her vestigial wings trapped in the ice spattered lake of her infernal lover And he from behind his prison bars whom can he say you’re mine to…

The wind brings cool air and swirling leaves falling gracefully to the ground, covering the lake with brocade flourishes, painting the sky with bursts of flaming colours as the leaves fall from the trees, delicately finding places to land leaving skeletal trees with no cover for the wicked winter to come.   Frances Garofalo was the winner of the 2022 Venera Fazio poetry contest. She lives in Thunder Bay.

Gramma Stella was 14½ when her mother told her that Giuseppe Monardo had asked for her. It was 1929. He…

As the festive season approaches, I think of my mom and her enigmatic smile, and how she diligently and lovingly…

“When we undertake the pilgrimage, it's not just to escape the tyranny at home but also to reach to the…