Defining The Way, a poem by Bruce Levine at Spillwords.com

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Defining The Way

Bruce Levine·September 29, 2021

English Poetry

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Defining The Way

written by: Bruce Levine

@brucelevine19

Isometric exercises
Solo meditation
Breathing intoxication
Held suspended

Longing for understanding
The future yet revealed
Planetary momentum
Guiding the path

Following the trail
Through forests of evergreens
Boundaries evolving
As hope cruises on

Opening doors
Vistas from mountain tops
Reflex actions
Defining the way

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Bruce Levine

Bruce Levine is a Pushcart Prize poetry nominee, a Spillwords Press Awards winner, and a WestWard Quarterly featured writer. Over three hundred of his works are published on over twenty-five online journals including Ariel Chart, Literary Yard, 5-7-5 Haiku Journal: over seventy print anthologies including Tipton Poetry Journal, Poets’ Espresso Review, and WestWard Quarterly. He’s the author of the chapbook Sweet Dreams and is also a classical composer.

Suman Pokhrel

Suman Pokhrel is a Nepali poet, lyricist, playwright, translator, and artist. He debuted in 1999 with a poetry collection and has since published works, including translations of Shakespeare and global poets. His poems are translated into many languages and taught across South Asia. A two-time SAARC Literary Awardee, he also received Asia’s Inspiring Poet Award and was named Author of the Month by Spillwords in June 2023. Beyond literature, he works as a freelance consultant in socio-economic research, rural development, entrepreneurial development and creative writing. He began his career in Nepal’s civil service and later worked with international NGOs. He holds degrees in Science, Law, Business Administration, and Economics.

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They all laughed at me. All the dinner ladies. It started with your one, I’m after forgetting her name now… Smelly Nelly’s ma. A wet little tear trickled toward her tattooed cheekbone. She was roaring red. Her harsh, wheezing laughter sounded like a black taxi tackling the Whiterock Road, her throat destroyed from all the fegs she used to be hoofing into her. She called over the other dinner ladies then, an army of them. Or maybe it was the curiosity of her horrid laughing that brought them over… I can’t remember.
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I looked between herself and the girls. Jesus Christ, I said in my own mind, Mental Mick is after stealing all my crayons that I’d been hoarding for myself there before the break...

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