Sentinel Literary Quarterly

Vol.2 No.2, January 2009. ISSN 1753-6499 (Online).

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Bernard Gieske
Genna Gardini
Helena Carolinska
Michael Lee Rattigan
Nnorom Azuonye
Ramesh Dohan
Sholeh Wolpé
Terri Ochiagha
Tolu Ogunlesi
Uche Nduka
Uchechukwu Umezurike
William Stephenson





















Bernard Gieske


So Many Multitudes


It began with thundering




Like a thundering herd of

            buffalo stampeding

                        over prairie land


Hidden faceless immigrants

            toiling late into the night

                        drenched in debt and sweat


Rows of manikins

            with revolving hands

                        spewing out endless things


Rows of benches

            lined with fear

                        protests hidden in folded sleeves


Language barriers

            frozen passports

                        wages withheld


working in

            the Land of the Free

                        the “garbage” of global economy


No Justice Here



No Hope


Nothing with no hoping is nothing

Happening with no hoping is coincidence

Seeing with no hoping is sightless

Time with no hoping is doomed

Willing with no hoping has already ended

Doing with no hoping is drudgery

Laughing with no hoping is choked

Sun with no hoping is without a day

Awaking with no hoping is all night



The Farmer


welcomes spring

            opening his book of fields

                        furrowing the pages


rows of stories


                        repeated traces of family history


new entries


                        branching free


budding ears

            picking the tunes

                        of spirited winds


under sailing caravans

            caught up in the swirling arms

                        of chapters in an autumn way


rolling up the scrolls

            of leaves of grass

                        spirited away from winter chills


settling in lofty bins

            cribbed indexes

                        of a next generation



The Big Tree (2)


here’s the place

I can rest

under this tree

its canopy embracing me


no sun, no moon

just the dark, dark blue

under this big tree

now blanketing me


my companion along

with this dream of the journey

trekking a dusty road

under the heat

of a burning sun

in busy pursuits

to a lasting resting place


this welcome haven melts my dreams


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Bernard Gieske writes from Bowling Green, Ky. His poems have appeared in Words Words Words, Moonset The Newspaper, Paper Wasp and Write Me a Metaphor.


Sentinel Literary Quarterly

 Published by Sentinel Poetry Movement

Editor: Nnorom Azuonye

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