In an ongoing series, the editors, former contributors, and readers of Eclectica have been invited to write a poem containing four pre-chosen words. The words for this issue are feather, collection, widow, and maple. Below are the resulting selected poems.

If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the new words are celery, cistern, target, agate.

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(These are excerpts--click on the title to view the whole poem)

 

The Widow on Maple Street Carried a Collection of Feathers
 
she thought him beautiful, all primary-colored, sleeping,
light as catkins
 
Elizabeth Bruno

 

Three Word Poems
 
She polishes her collection of grievances,
lines them up like figurines on the mantel,
each a familiar shape to hold onto
 
Antonia Clark

 

Sevenling: Flying South for Winter
 
The maples dressed in gold.
The robins were all widowed.
 
Nicolette Bethel

 

Disparity
 
She tries to be useful
but her opinions are the crunch underfoot
of dry maple leaves.
 
Barbara De Franceschi

 

Autumn 1878
 
From your upstairs window,
you can look out at maples, bright
as the declining year.
 
Taylor Graham

 

The maples are all widows now
 
See how emptiness
turns out to be a relief?
 
Christine Potter

 

Found Objects
 
The feather he knifed into a quill,
made me promise to scribble love letters
when he was long-haul trucking.
 
Brent A. Fisk

 

My Life as an Amateur Fighter
 
She was
like a washcloth pressed against
my cheek, cooling
 
Nathan McClain

 

Harlow's Wooden Man
 
The way my aunts told the story, he was cut
from a living tree. Up-ended. Given a hat
and beard.
 
Jennifer Finstrom