This poem was first published in Issue 14 (2007) of Ancient Paths literary magazine. After His Fall by Ruth Linea Whitney The serpent draws his skin between the waters and the woods, and so keeps clear of the Lord God’s footsteps, the knowing heart he hates. Late, late: this song calls up his grief for the old life, his tall striding days among the leaves of morning. From the sedge, he sees each ripple chasing bread upon the waters rushing past: his freedom. He s

Carol A. Oberg, a mother of two grown children, retired to live on Gooseneck Lake in the middle of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where she works in her own “writing studio.” There she continues her calling to write both short stories and poetry and devours a vast array of reading material, “almost everything,” she says, “I can get my hands on.” Carol was selected as one of the featured poets for issue 16 of Ancient Paths. Below, we share her poem “Making a Mess of Your Life.” Y

The following poem was first published in Issue 12 (2004) of Ancient Paths literary magazine. Statue in the Garden by Newton Miner “Here is noon home, here is but wildernesse.” - Chaucer, Trouthe Daily we drown in moral atrophy. Maturity, it seems, is what we learn from the smooth face of deceit at every turn. Blight and brambles of love infect TV. Theft, abandon, gunfire soil the street. Where are the certainties for which we yearn? The trek is still through wilderness

This poem was first published in Issue 11 (Fall 2003) of Ancient Paths literary magazine. The Trouble with Prophets by Karen Thorpe Of course we are all paralyzed: we knew that from the start; we heard the spine snap but thought only: I have not broken far enough, I have not freed that other electricity of Your Voice burning up my spinal cord. But even if we were silent, we are doomed. Someone is bound to recognize us as renegade spies in a crowd of sheep. You

The following poem was first published in Issue 13 (2005) of Ancient Paths literary magazine. Grass Beside the Church of St. Francis Xavier (Night — Before a Late Summer Storm) by Arthur Powers (Rio de Janeiro, Brazil) This, too, must resist passing storm, bleak night, summer grass beneath a battlement, kissed by winds that twist small roots aright. This, too, must sheath tiny blades beside a pale stone buttress rising, wide and white, disappearing—tried stone into b

Paul David Adkins writes poetry, he says, “partly to record my experiences, and partly to see how finely I can tune language to say exactly what I want in the fewest words possible.” Over the years, Paul’s poetry has appeared in a variety of publications, including Chattahoochee Review, Caveat Lector, Rock & Sling, Crab Creek Review, and, of course, my own Ancient Paths. I first encountered Paul’s work when I published his poem “Marriage of the Prophet” in Issue 12 (2004) of

Enjoy this selection from the archives of Ancient Paths literary magazine. This poem was first published in Issue 10 (Spring 2003). Moses on Sinai and Nebo by Alan P. Church VI Exodus 32:7 Striding down Mt. Sinai how could I know That all your commandments would come to this? Even as the Israelites gathered ‘round The golden calf, it was I who broke the law: It was not in righteous anger that I Threw down the diptych,

This poem was first published in Issue 9 (Fall 2002) of Ancient Paths literary magazine. Gardeners by Lynn F. Behnke Silly gardeners, Scratching at the planet With their pitted tools, Sketching furrows on a dusty crust And risking labor’s harvest On the wanderings of a bee! Are we just as foolish, dear, Pressing gifts of time and touch Among each other’s days, Daring season after season To reach farther past Our sheltered seeds of “me”? Not foolish, love, but faithfu

First published in Issue 9 (Fall 2002) of Ancient Paths literary magazine, "Fairtyales and Dustballs" was a 2002 Pushcart Prize nominee. Fairytales and Dustballs by M.J. King Sometimes the light hits the sky like moonbeams scattering fairy dust. Sometimes, but not very often, we look up and take time to notice. I wanted to slay dragons and save princes, but instead I wash clothes, again! I listen to bored people create tragedies, always searching for those fairytales.

The following poem was first published in Issue 7 (Fall 2001) of Ancient Paths literary magazine. The Liberator by Kenneth O' Keefe Struggling he thrust into the dust his sturdy staff, Dragging himself up the stark and stony mountain, Tearing his skinned hands and knees to bloody chaff. His exhausted face poured sweat like a fountain, While his heaving breath fanned flames in his chest. Though pain radiated through his whole body, His thoughts were not on himself, but

Dr. David A. Craig is a professor of English at the Franciscian University of Stubenville and the author of fifteen collections of poetry. Three of his poems have graced the pages of Ancient Paths: “Grace” (Issue 5), “Matthew Was in the Counting House” (Issue 8), and “Jesus Amazed” (Issue 10). Some years ago, he shared with me one of his many collections, Sonnets from Matthew (© 2002). It’s wonderful to see that poets are still making use of the sonnet form these days. As W

"Believe" a poem by Corbet Dean

"I’m told I am a nature writer," Paul J Willis says. "but what else is there to write about, really?" He's also told that he's "spiritual," but, he asks, "Aren’t we all?" He likes to consider "John Muir and John the Apostle" as "friends of mine—or warm acquaintances, anyway." A native of the Oregon Cascades, Paul holds a graduate degree in English from Washington State University and serves as a professor of British Renaissance Literature and Creative Writing at Westmont Col

In The Geography of Prayer (Skysong Press, 1999), Donna Farley presents a collection of poems that range from the invitingly accessible to the almost-esoteric, from the charmingly sentimental to the deeply pensive. The nineteen works in this chapbook are divided into five sections centered around the vital components of prayer: meditation, confession, intercession, supplication, and praise. Each poem is well placed in an appropriate section. The printing is simple yet attra

The following poem is re-printed from the Ancient Paths archives. It originally appeared in Issue 4 (Spring 2000). John the Baptist by Louise Gwathmey Weld A voice cries from the wilderness: 'Do not dismantle yourself into small, manageable compartments or wrap yourself in learning and habit. Even the wisdom of the land is fenced in; people grow flowers in window boxes. 'Do not cling to a sturdy tree and the safety of rooted virtue for the voice of the Lord twists oaks

The following poem has been re-printed from the Ancient Paths archives. It was originally published in the printed literary magazine, Issue 6 (Spring 2001). Staying in Line by Gene Fehler Back before seat belts, Dad sat me on his lap and let me steer his ‘48 Packard straight along the highway, smooth as a hawk’s flight. I glided into our driveway, fed the car easily into our garage’s narrow mouth. I never saw his hands beneath mine on the steering wheel, smoothing t

The following poem has been re-printed from the Ancient Paths archives. It was originally published in the printed literary magazine, Issue 6 (Spring 2001). Two Sparrows by Robert Leo Stanley A sparrow had turned in flight away from the others and had come to a land parched by a cruel sun where diamond-hooded cobras and red-jawed iguanas eat, rest, and wait. His frantic wings fought against a tide of demon winds, and he rose high above the shifting dunes in search

The following poem has been re-printed from the Ancient Paths archives. It was originally published in the printed literary magazine, Issue 6 (Spring 2001). My Cup Runneth Over by Thandi The Grail runneth over before our eyes onto our blistered souls If not for blindness we would not thirst nor fear the greatness in our hands We would recognize the head of God bent down to soothe our weary feet We would view the puddles on our laps as more than circumstance #Ancien

The following poem has been re-printed from the Ancient Paths archives. It originally appeared in Issue 5 (Fall 2000). A Sudden Death in the House by Jene Erick Beardsley How thoughtless of you to get up on that morning--unsteady In bathrobe and slippers, with toothbrush and washcloth ready, Breakfast frying in the kitchen, son leaving for work--merely To die, the day in your absence resuming so queerly. Lord! how you upset our plans for that day, how you keep, Now, us g

In today’s blog post, I’d like to introduce you to another Ancient Paths poet: Barry W. North. After retiring from his career as a refrigeration mechanic, Barry began to commit more time to his writing, and he won the 2010 A. E. Coppard Prize for Fiction as well as an Honorable Mention in the 2011 Allen Ginsberg Poetry Awards. He is the author of Terminally Human, a compilation of short poems. Six of Barry’s poems have previously appeared in the pages of Ancient Paths: “Who