ubterranean Blue Poetry
Volume III Issue IX

The Cover Art/Photo:

by Rebecca Anne Banks

"shadow tree in breath

warm Summer sky

sunlight by morning . . .”

"queen alvarez

the cookie mawb

exclusionary dusts of heaven

blue, a fine leather lawn


“the world is dead,

if we forget to dance”

the girl dances at the cash at the Market

(we laugh a little)

“dancons, dancons”

we dance around the twisted escarpment,

the architecture


the destruction

“dancons, dancons”


into the light across the mirrored sun


we live inside

a room, a wooden floor

blues and light shadows

you can see the trees,

in green from the window

it is always Summer here,

hervé sanctus,

if only love could love"

Subterranean Blue Poetry
Volume III Issue IX
(September 2015)

Subterranean Blue Poetry

© 2015

When the Mist Burned

by Steve Klepetar

At first we weren’t sure. A hulk wrecked
on a sandbar suddenly formed, or a Minke
whale drawn in too close? By noon, when

mist burned off, the ocean roiled too hot
for us to swim. Whirlpools swirled between
scarred feet and the pearl gray line of shore.

A new island stretched off the coast with beach
of polished stone. Someone howled across
fields of heat, raw-throated cry in windless air.

Letter from the Lake

by Steve Klepetar

Already the season slips away.
And yet the lake’s edges reflect
trees with leaves of such deep

green I can almost taste your
mouth in the scent of their sap.
Wind fills white sails and I see

your hair, its strands parting and
joining, tickling your face. I am
writing this from the bottom

of the lake, where water weeds
grow and flutter and the sandy
bed crumbles away to something

stranger – a sucking mud, until
it too gives way to nothing, and I
tumble in the fierce current of dreams.

Between the Sycamores

by Steve Klepetar

Maybe the ache in my bones
is an afterthought, something
to follow this long tumble

down into glaring light of this
frigid day, a sky of sunlit
clouds reflecting against snow.

I might have walked in troubled
night, my old boots battered
and wet and stained white with salt,

it may have been me between
the sycamores, driving with slow
progress up the hill to where winter tents flapped
and owls, their otherworldly
faces calm and pale, communed

with wind and moon. My hands
open now, empty and rough,
my eyes struggle back from sleep.

Sounds seep through windows
and rise in gasps from the furnace
room. A truck rumbles by,

a snowmobile whines near the corner
where rabbits gathered once
or was that the other life, where crows,

those prophets of merging worlds,
screeched unwelcome news
to herald the onslaught of brutal day?

Featured Poet: Gwendolyn MacEwen

Dark Pines Under Water


Gwendolyn MacEwen

This land like a mirror turns you inward
And you become a forest in a furtive lake;
The dark pines of your mind reach downward,
You dream in the green of your time,
Your memory is a row of sinking pines.

Explorer, you tell yourself, this is not what you came for
Although it is good here, and green;
You had meant to move with a kind of largeness,
You had planned a heavy grace, an anguished dream.

But the dark pines of your mind dip deeper
And you are sinking, sinking, sleeper
In an elementary world;
There is something down there and you want it told.

Missed Connections

Craigslist Montreal – Missed Connections – February 27th, 2015 – “C.”

RE: af&fi&ni&ty - w4m (514) - m4w (montreal)


I miss you too. I Love you to your very fabrics and till the end of time.



N.B.: “dance me until the end of time . . . Quilters Unitas” – note from the editor

Book Reviews

Running on the March Wind, a triumph of dance in New Age Imagist poetry.

Byline: Subterranean Blue Poetry

Title of Book: Running on the March Wind

Author: Lenore Keeshig

Publisher: Quattro Books

Date of Publication: 2015

Page Count: 109

“Love lift us up where we belong . . . “
- from Up Where We Belong by Buffy Sainte-Marie

Running on the March Wind by Lenore Keeshig, is a triumph of dance in New Age Imagist poetry. The award winning Poet, Children’s writer and Storyteller is from the Chippewas of Nawash Unceded First Nations. She also works as a Naturalist at the National Parks on the Bruce Peninsula. She is an activist for Native culture and founded “The Committee to Re-establish the Trickster” in the 1980’s.

This poetry is a dance of nature imagery, Imagist and Native Culture, using words from the Chippewa language (a clan of Ojibwe/ Anishawabe) that writes in dreamscapes, a place inside God. The nature images border on the iconoclast, the trees, the maple tree (ninaatig), the bear (mko), the wolf (ma’iingan), the hawk (geniw), the bald eagle (migizi) and dwell within the center of the world, a song in creation and in peace within the Creator. The poem Cedar, is within the book section titled “Songs for the Trees”:



cedar whispering
to the winds

cedar sipping
the salient
savouring sun’s
promises of
another hot

sweet breath
cedar’s cool
my face, my
my tired
body, and
I am again
I remember
cedar –
a blessing
a gift
a power
a strength
– I had
almost forgotten”

The themes of the poetry include children, her grandmother, family life, life on the Reserve and the struggle against challenges and violence, including her own psychology, nature, soldiers and the white culture. There are certain poems marked with (bear i, bear ii, bear iii, up until bear xii) in paranthesis after the titles as if telling a story within a story. I loved the image of the bear juxtaposed with children, enigmatic and dreamlike, how what was lost was also found, a story of hope.

Go Away
(bear ix)

my yellow house
my kitchen

i head for my room,
my desk, the computer,
my work and my writing

at the kitchen window
my children are standing
on chairs, pointing out,
watching, giggling
i join them and look out

there are bears, all kinds of
bears, young bears, all
colours like teddy bears
playing beneath the window
their den is under my floor

my feet are warm
i can feel their presence

but i push at the window screen
telling them to go away, go away,

yet my feet would be warm
if they stayed”

Outside Hope
(bear x)

the bears are gone now
all of them

the worn entrance to
their den is cold

i sprinkle tobacco and flakes
of food across the threshold,
hoping they’ll return
to my yellow house
their den beneath
my kitchen floor”

Also, the poetry gives voice to the dialectic between the Indian culture and the white culture. As the larger white culture sits on the edge of the Indian culture in the mass media, feeding negative stereotypes about Indian peoples, highlighting self-esteem issues and psychologically undermining. The population of the Indigenous Peoples has been greatly reduced over 500 years, their language largely lost, the abuse from the white population and the emotional scars from the residential schools has been called cultural genocide. The white society system has traditionally been a closed door system, the war/whore economy has negatively affected everyone including the Indian peoples, manifesting karmic dissonance, violence and debt. With the birth of the Internet Age, a see and be seen world is creating greater awareness, perhaps lessening violence and creating more positive dialogue and greater opportunities for life.

In “He Fights

“secretly he dreams
of bear and struggles hard
to let go let go of things that
hold Indian people
back, things that
pull them back
back into
the white
man’s dark ages”

This struggle with the larger white population is expertly highlighted, beginning with the first poem,


When I was
a kid back home,
we kids used to
play Cowboys and Indians.
We never wanted
to be the Indians
’cause they were
always the bad guys
and lost.
So we were all cowboys
back home
on the reservation.”

and builds into a resounding crescendo to the brilliance of the last poem, Goodbye, Wild Indian. As if the struggle with the white society has been bred in the bone, the self-esteem issues and the idea of “who we are” inculcated from television and mass media that doesn’t portray the reality, gives no real role models or positive idea of self.

This poetry is expertly drawn into the crucible for change, an activist voice for real people. The poetry itself is magic weaving nature iconography and imagery, sometimes like chanting, telling the story of the Poet, a story of struggle, inside the beauty of soulspeak despite the violence of a broken world. Running on the March Wind by Lenore Keeshig, a song for the New Age.

Available @ Amazon.ca.

Emerging, the love of the homefires in Imagist poetry by Lila Hope-Simpson.

Byline: Subterranean Blue Poetry

Title of Book: Emerging

Author: Lila Hope-Simpson

Publisher: Red Mare 9

Date of Publication: 2014

Page Count: 30

“I’ll light the fire,
you place the flowers in the vase that you bought today.”
- from Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young

Emerging is an artist’s Chapbook, a powerful work of love poetry by Lila Hope-Simpson. Hope-Simpson is a poet, writer, early childhood educator, wife and mother. She has written Fiddles and Spoons: Journey of an Acadian Mouse, a children’s book that won the Marianna Dempster Children’s Literature Award; a novel, Stepping Out; and a parenting book The Clothesline Collection. This is the third book This Writer has reviewed for Lila Hope-Simpson.

This powerful collection of poetry lives in love, the places of the heart, the beauty of rural areas, Nova Scotia. The book itself, is a beautiful offering of handmade Japanese paper by SuZi at Red Mare 9. A hand printed Chapbook, with a tomato red cover and golden leaves, this work of poetry is also a visual work of art.

In the quiet of a Summer evening I hear the song Our House, “with two cats in the yard, Life used to be so hard, Now everything is easy 'cause of you”, inside the perfect lovesong. The poetry of Emerging is in a narrative and Imagist style that is like reading a picture postcard in time. The beauty of nature resides in the heart, is the inside of celebration, like an observer chronicling the sights and sounds of forests and oceans on a particular day, the world morphs into synchronicity. The imagery lives in the natural world, Brier Island Wild chronicles a day in the life of a camping trip,

“The woods shift to bushes
      shifting to grass
      shifting to cliffs and rocks
      shifting to ocean
      shifting to sky
The fog has vanished into the sun
leaving sharp, clear edges on the leaves,
spider webs shivering dew drops
appear on the grass,
      like fairies’ shawls
wild irises, deep purple against the green fields,
blow lustily in the sea breezes.”

Celebrating the light and happiness that surrounds a happy marriage, the poetry lives in the seasons of life, her childhood, her family, a reckoning, a thank you for love fulfilled. Emerging is written in the first person, the voice of a woman, strong, awake, alive. Within the poetry I notice the strength in love, when anything is wrong with the world, it is the strength in love, the voice of a woman, of women and happy marriages that could mend the world in peace.

This poetry exists in all the beauty that is woman, the goddess, all the vulnerability and the mystery of the essence of the wife, the mother, the peacemaker. As if inside the heartbeat of nature and the meaning of life, to love, the worship of the god Eros, this poetry writes.


He sits on the edge of the bed
I curl up tight around him like a fern.

He’s wearing his white silky shorts
      spattered with paint
      a little too tight
I wear my cotton nightgown with the pink tulips.
His hand gently pulls the nightgown
      up around my waist
my hand reaches around his middle
to caress the white of his shorts
My leg encircles him
his heart beats faster
my breath quickens

The baby looks up with dancing hazel eyes
She says da-da
I pull down my nightie,
      go downstairs and fix breakfast.”

As if celebrating the freedom of love and the power of women to build bridges and create peace, The Laughing Woman celebrates. Like walking into a room full of women with husbands and families, you can feel the love and if this powerful energy could be harnessed there would be no violence in the world.

The Laughing Woman

Who is that Laughing woman?

She’s the mechanical gypsy lady
at the amusement park
who sits patiently in front of the Dark Tunnel.
She waits for a curious child
to insert a quarter in the slot,
then she rolls back and forth, back and forth,
holding her skirted belly
laughing eerily for sixty seconds.

Who is that laughing woman?

She sits close to her lover in a dim café,
her head close to his
and she giggles and laughs mysteriously
at everything he says,
takes a sip of wine
and laughs some more.

Who is that laughing woman?

She’s lounging on the couch
watching a film with friends,
a line strikes her as funny.
She laughs until tears stream down her
and her stomach hurts.
Everyone else in the room stares.

Who is that laughing woman?

She is the mother
disciplining her child.
She wants to be taken seriously
she wants to be stern-
but the child laughs
then the mother laughs
and she gives him a hug.

Who is that laughing woman?

She is you and she is me
She is everywoman
      who has loved
      who has given birth
      who has danced
      who has stumbled
      who has felt the wind lift her hair

She is you and she is me.
We laugh together
We laugh alone
We laugh because we are alive.

This poetry exists in the realm of the homefires, the seasons of life and the natural world of rural Nova Scotia, in essence the work is in league with the work of Canadian Poet Colleen Thibaudeau. Of life and love, a very impressive first collection of poetry, Emerging by Lila Hope-Simpson.

Available @ Red Mare 9.

"grey sky,

soft falling snow

dances with the winter tree . . . "

the lavender sky


Rebecca Anne Banks

the lavender sky, goes deep

as beautiful as the spoken day, the night, the silence

i could dream you awake

so love

dresses me with your warmth

so love

whispers . . . to me

so love

touches me . . . quiet

the seeds of the night

wait to be written

where you sleep

under the sky

so love . . .

i sit quiet

in the dark,

and whisper,

a song sung to the moon.


Rebecca Anne Banks lives in Montreal. She is the author of 26 books of poetry, a family cookbook, a book of children’s stories and a primer on marriage discernment all available at (www.amazon.ca). She is also the CEO/Artist at Tea at Tympani Lane Records (www.tympanilanerecords.com) and The Book Reviewer at The Book Reviewer (www.thebookreviewer.ca).

Lila Hope-Simpson. Originally from Montreal, Lila Hope-Simpson is a writer residing in Nova Scotia. Lila is the author of Fiddles & Spoons: Journey of an Acadian Mouse (Nimbus Publishing), earning the Marianna Dempster Children’s Literature Award, Canadian Author’s Association. She is the author of novel Stepping Out (Three Dogs Press) and parenting book The Clothesline Collection (Home & Heart). The limited edition poetry chapbook Emerging is published by Red Mare Magazine, designed by SuZi. Lila is a freelance writer for the Valley Harvester and recipient of Best Specialty Column Award.

Lenore Keeshig is a Chippawa of Nawash Unceded First Nations Poet, Storyteller, Children's Author, Naturalist, wife and mother. As a Naturalist she works at the National Parks on the Bruce Peninsula. She is a Native Activist against the abrogation of native stories and culture by non-natives and a founder of the Native Authors group "The Committee to Re-establish the Trickster" in the 1980's. Keeshig has won awards for her writing and her poetry has appeared in anthologies. Her children's books include Bird Talk, Emma and the Trees and The Truth about Nibbles.

Steve Klepetar’s work has received several nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, including three in 2014. Three collections appeared in 2013: Speaking to the Field Mice (Sweatshoppe Publications), Blue Season (with Joseph Lisowski, mgv2>publishing), and My Son Writes a Report on the Warsaw Ghetto (Flutter Press). An e-chapbook, Return of the Bride of Frankenstein, came out in 2014 as part of the Barometric Pressures series of e-chapbooks by Kind of a Hurricane Press.

Gwendolyn MacEwen celebrated Canadian Modernist Poet and author was born in Toronto, Ontario. Welcomed into the Literary Community, at 17 years old her first poem appeared in The Canadian Forum, she quit school at age 18 years to pursue her chosen career of writing. Her first husband was Poet Milton Acorn, her second husband was Greek Musician Niko Tsingas. She won many awards including The Governor General's Award twice and was a Writer in Residence at the University of Western Ontario as well as the University of Toronto. She published more than 20 books and died at the age of 46 in 1987. She is best remembered for The Drunken Clock, The Shadow-Maker, Trojan Women and The Rising Fire amongst others.