Lit eZine Vol 3 | p-20 | AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT | Poetry by Arthur Turfa – Manic Sylph Writes… Poetry & Thoughts by Mona Soorma

We bring to you our featured writer Arthur Turfa
with two of his short poems
and his article
GEMINI: A Contemplation of Duality and My Love for Literature
plus
AN INTERVIEW with Arthur Turfa

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Visit his blog

Buy Arthur’s Books

Living in the Midlands of South Carolina, Arthur Turfa ventures far and wide with his poetry and literary fiction. Published in many print and electronic journals, he has six published poetry books (most recently Saluda Reflections from Finishing Line Press) and a literary fiction novel, The Botleys of Beaumont County on Blurb. He was in the Top Ten for the Pangolin Review contest in 2019. Drawing some of his ideas from professional and personal experiences, he focuses on the concept of place and how it influences lives. He is a poetry reader for the South Carolina Writers Association’s Petigru Review and a fiction reader for the Northern Appalachia Review.

POETRY

IDYLL IN LATE AFTERNOON

Soft gowns, their colors catching
the sunlight in late afternoon, moving

along with the graceful limbs on
the grassy meadow. Their laughter

floating over towards me as I
behold the Muses from my seat

under the tree nearest Castalia.
They know that I am there; one

of them will glide her way over
to me and rest her garlanded head

on my shoulder, lingering for a
time, until I pen some verses

which I will read to her, watching
the light shine in her eyes and the

smile cross her lovely face. She
draws me closer, closer to her.

VIEW THROUGH BARE BRANCHES

How often have we walked these roads
spreading around our house 
Summers following the shade 
during those humid afternoons

In autumn, admiring the red-yellow
of leaves in their final glory
Magda the Chocolate Lab and
I venturing out twice daily

Since the pandemic rendered my gym 
unsafe. We enjoy the sights and scents 
of the subdivision, still heavily-wooded 
after a generation of houses.

Lately through the bare branches I
see more of the Little Saluda,
sunlight reflecting off of the
water flowing into the lake.

Along oft-travelled paths seeing
something new I wonder how much
I have missed familiar
routes and responsibilities:

I tug at Magda’s leash and bring
her next to me to continue
our course, watching as the swift deer
pass before us on their own ways.