FF11 - 2020

Do you know the secret to free website traffic?

Use this trick to increase the number of new potential customers.

Founder’s Favourites

Issue 11-June 2020

Alex Phuong

Bruce Levine

Ann Christine Tabaka

Christopher Woods

Emory D. Jones

Fabrice Poussin

Gerard Sarnat

John Tustin

Nolo Segundo

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 1

How to

become a



Content contains anything I find

memorable, creative, unique, visual,

or even simple. Accepted

contributors will most likely write

about things that are emotionally

moving. Not sure I will like your

submission? Take a chance! You

have nothing to lose. And who

knows? You may end up being

among the founder's favourites!

Submit today!


Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 2

Founder’s Favourites

Issue 11-June 2020


Alex Phuong

20 Un-Unbirthday

21 My Friend Frank

Ann Christine Tabaka

10 The Sun Worshiper

11 A Piece of Land I Came From

18 Writing, Waiting, Wishing, Waning

Bruce Levine

14 A Day: A Quartet of Poems

Christopher Woods

6 Orchids, Dew

13 Two Trees, Trackside Road

Emory D. Jones

8 Divine Sculpture

9 Cloister: A French Sonnet

Fabrice Poussin

12 Not a Care in the Universe

Gerard Sarnat

19 Haiku Collection

John Tustin

4 All This Paint

5 Under My Fingernails

Nolo Segundo

7 Ineffable

My Favourites Because...

All This Paint John Tustin—I like the mental

preparation, and then the last line.

Under My Fingernails John Tustin—I enjoyed

the macro, closeup visuals.

Photography Christopher Woods—I like the dew

on page 6, and the colours on page 13.

Ineffable Nolo Segundo—This engaged my senses.

Divine Sculpture Emory D. Jones—The poem has

such rich visuals. Something I wish I could take

photographs of.

Cloister: A French Sonnet Emory D. Jones—I

enjoyed the quiet in this poem.

The Sun Worshiper Ann Christine Tabaka—I

found the poem relaxing with lines like “Chest

rising and falling to the slow rhythm of your

shallow breaths.”

A Piece of Land I Came From Ann Christine

Tabaka—I can relate to this poem in every aspect.

And I like how the progressions of the title.

Not A Care in the Universe Fabrice Poussin—

The peaceful sounds and visuals made this a


A Day: A Quartet of Poems Bruce Levine—I

enjoyed the completeness of the day.

The Best and Worst of Each Night John

Tustin—I can relate to the feelings and senses of

this poem—well, most of it.

Yolays John Tustin—I love the romantic closeness

and senses depicted in this poem.

Writing, Waiting, Wishing, Waning Ann

Christine Tabaka—I can relate to this poem in

every aspect. And I like how the progressions of the


Haiku Collection Gerard Sarnat—Can never go

wrong with haikus. And the subject matter is


Un-Unbirthday Alex Phuong—I love the strange


My Friend Frank Alex Phuong—In this Covid

season, Anne’s life and strength brings new

appreciation for what she must have gone through.

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 3

All This Paint

By John Tustin

I have all this paint.

Thousands of colors,

More thousands swirling

And mixing.

The colors spread along the walls,

Across the floor,

Drip from the ceiling.

My little world is a palette!

I stroke the hair on my bare chest,

I take another swig

And my eyes fix upon the blank canvas.

I pick up my paintbrush

And I begin.

agsandrew | stock.adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 4

Under My Fingernails

By John Tustin

you are under my fingernails,

between the white and the pink.

you are in those solitary hairs

on the bridge of my nose.

you are sprinkled gray

in the blue of my eye.

you are where the flesh

makes love to the bone.

and you are flowing with my blood

like a whitewater rafter

to my heart.


I will be man enough

to meet you there.

and then

the day

can, at last,


Friedberg | stock.adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 5

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 6

c Christopher Wood


By Nolo Segundo

The sound of rain falling on your roof,

feeling the first raindrops on your flesh...ineffable—

The tightness of a hug from one you have

not seen for a very long time… ineffable—

Laughter of young children playing, yours

or not, doesn’t matter… ineffable—

The way a sunrise gives you hope, and

a sunset presages a peaceful dying...ineffable—

The touch on your neck by your beloved,

the quiet sharing of doing nothing...ineffable—

The reading of words and the sudden picture

made real in your mind’s eye…ineffable—

The awakening from a dream of wonder,

the sense you were in another world...ineffable—

The moment of joining with another human being,

the strange mixture of joy and sadness...ineffable—

Beholding a tree in full bloom, its myriad leaves

turning in the wind, whispering life… ineffable—


The quiet, secret, almost desperate longing

for transcendence, for God… ineffable….

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 7

Divine Sculpture

By Emory D. Jones

He sculpts the earth with water, wind and fire,

Sends the roiling stream, cutting soil

With force of rushing flowing water

Sends sand to sculpt the sandstone with the wind.

Through this sculpture garden glides the wind

As sun beats down on desert, hot as fire

That spreads like a shallow river across the earth

And like molten silver beneath the water.

Up in the mountain over rocks, the water,

Rippled by the fingertips of wind,

Resists the glowing warmth of orange fire

To cool the surface of the waiting earth.

The rocks in pinnacles arise from warming earth

As now the flowing river gives its water

To natural bridges, carved by rushing wind,

That arch and leap as if they were on fire.

He blesses earth, refreshes it with water

And on the wind renews eternal fire.


zicksvift | stock.adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 8


A French Sonnet

By Emory D. Jones

The ivy creeps along the wall;

It twists and plunges with the fall

And curls the wrought iron railing takes—

It enters a shaded courtyard, crawls

To find the cool a shadow makes.

Tied to trellis, forsythia strains,

Bursts to lavender cascades;

It captures the sunlight that remains

And climbs the writhing balustrades.

The fragile honey-suckle climbs

Its blossoms flutter like the pink

And yellow wings it pantomimes—

The gentle perfumes cast their spells

And bring a peace like Vesper bells.

Peter H—Pixabay.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 9

The Sun Worshiper

By Ann Christine Tabaka

I watch you with rapt curiosity,

lying in that bright puddle of sunlight.

Chest rising and falling to the slow

rhythm of your shallow breaths.

An ocean of soft purrs washes over the room.

I wonder what it is that you dream about,

as your paws fly deftly through the air.

Tiny gray tiger,

are you the great hunter at chase?

I want to know what goes on

in your little feline mind.

I envy your ability to let go

of reality and escape into your

own special world.

I associate with you

on so many levels,

but still I can never be you.

I want to curl up into

a tight ball and let the warm sun

kiss my silken coat.

I reach out to touch you,

and in a flash you are

halfway across the world.

Leaving scattered fur and dreams

to drift upon fading sunbeams.

Nadine Haase | stock.adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 10

A Piece of the Land I Came From

By Ann Chritine Tabaka

I hold it in my hand,

turning it over carefully.

Taking in its beauty,

I ponder its origin.

When I was young,

I did not appreciate it.

It was ‘just brown,’

it did not sparkle like fine cut gems.

I thought it so plan and boring.

My Babcia always held it dear.

She always had it with her,

wearing it like a royal jewel.

I examine it as the sun shines through,

illuminating a tiny creature

within its amber cage.

Once living cells, now imprisoned in

a memory of ages past.

Millions of years in the making,

a mix of science and serendipity.

Now I know its worth,

my family came from this land

of ancient Baltic heritage.

It is a piece of the land that I came from

that I hold within my hand.

Bjorn Wylezich—stock.adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 11

Not a Care in the Universe

By Fabrice Poussin

She lies on her back upon a rooftop

dressed in the thin silk of her youth

contemplating the darkness all around

her palm feels the warmth of the womb

ravaged by the same persistent tingling.

The oaks tower above her soul

blooming once again in this new age

they stare in distant bewilderment

closer to their own heavens

stretching from too long a slumber.

Strays cross the shining asphalt

seeking shelter behind the collapsing shop

another meal randomly chosen

strangers to the pleas of men

they continue to brave rain and stars

Another cardinal found a home nearby

chasing his beloved in the underbrush

singing another song he hopes for a night

while below a child cries for a father

lost in the rubble of a world’s errors.

The furry little hunter of acorns and nuts

came to my window at first light

and he smiled his best for a moment

I think perhaps he even winked

little rascal carrier of life and dreams.


Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 12

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 13

c Christopher Woods

salman2 | stock.adobe.com

STEVEN | stock.adobe.com

Sam D’Cruz | stock.adobe.com



| stock.adobe.com

| stock.adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 14

A Day

A Quartet of Poems

By Bruce Levine

Early Morning

The early morning was beautiful

Clouds floating across the horizon

The sun, hidden behind the trees

Barely sneaking its glow through the branches

Giving respite from its glare

Rising inevitably as the day prepares

Morning sounds awakening

As the gentleness of a breeze refreshed

Even as the sun heated the air

Transforming the atmosphere of the morning

Radiating light and warmth

As the morning drifts forward

Afternoon Watch

A cool breeze

Wafted over us

As we sat on a rock

Watching the boats

Bob at their moorings

Lazily asking nothing more

Than to bask in the sun

Seagulls gliding past

Shadows on the still water

A distant cry

Of a ferry horn

Mingled with the gull’s call

And the sounds of children

Playing in the park along the quay

Innocent and focused

Only on their games

Peace and tranquility hover

Over us as we watch

A sense of well being

Invades our souls

As we sip our drinks

Savoring the moments

And storing the memory

Of a lovely afternoon

Before returning home


Shadows of sunset

hover over forgotten hours

as the day lingers toward a close

An umbrella of twilight

holding back the stars and moon

as the last vestiges of the day

casts its glow in pink and gray

Evening and night yet to unfold

with offerings as varied and complex

as the stars dancing in the Milky Way

A circle closing

as a clock strikes twelve

and the midnight hour proclaims itself

the end and the beginning

Time to reflect and time to dream

as the shadows of sunset

enshroud the day


Night invades the day

Cutting through the glow of evening

Stars shooting across the blackened sky

Leaving a trail of light

Outlining the constellations

A comet’s tail

Passing toward the edge of the universe

Bound’ries unknown

Heralding the midnight hour

Flocks of birds

Asleep in their nests high in the trees

Feathers puffed for warmth

Huddled together

Lovers dreaming

The day ends in darkness

Dreams floating in starlight

To the other side of the night

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 15

The Best And Worst Of Each Night

By John Tustin

The best and worst of each night

Is the same

In that I spend it

And end it


In this bed that curses me

As I kiss the third pillow

That will soon endure my snoring

And my drool

With no complaint.

Blue Planet Studio—stock.adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 16


By John Tustin

They sit closer and closer together.

She smiles at him. Their hands accidentally


As they both reach for the same thing

At the table where they sit.

He can feel the blood rush to his cheeks

And she turns her head away,

Their knees almost touching

And how badly he wants to pull her

Close to him and kiss her and kiss her

O yes!

The food on the table uneaten, her breath

Mixing with his and the cool whoosh of air

Coming from her nostrils down toward him

As not a single spoken word passes between

Four softly parted


Lightfield Studios—stock.adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 17

Writing, Waiting, Wishing, Waning

By Ann Christine Tabaka

I send the best I ever penned,

or so I believe it to be.

Surely this time it will find a home.

I hope and pray as time stands still,

and weeks turn into months.

It feels like centuries.

Finally the day arrives,

I’ve waited for so long.

My heart stops.

I hold my breath.

And once again,

the words scream off the page:

“We are sorry, but …”

the rest is nil.

No form-letter compliments

can make amends.

Again I lose.

Again I fail.

Why do I even try?

The rejection file grows larger

as my confidence wanes.

Holding tears back,

a glass of wine and bed console,

at least for now.

But will I ever win?

Writing, waiting, wishing,

my entire life away.

fuzzbones | stock.adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 18

Tabby In From The Alley

By Gerard Sarnat

COVID New Reality

By Gerard Sarnat

Grandchild lives few min

away as crow flies, but could

just as well be in

Israel where Savta*

also watches him learn to

walk and talk on screens.

*grandmother in Hebrew.

I’m a bit feral

but during COVID shelter

will be a house cat.

Silvia Crisman—stock.adobe.com

Prostock-studio | stock.adobe.com

Unintended Consequence

By Gerard Sarnat

Worldwide March deaths down

— fewer car accidents etc –

just imagine that!


Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 19


By Alex Phuong


A day full of fun!

Your real birthday

Is really the only one

We were all born for a reason

So celebrate this special season

With renaissance rebirth!

And remember your own worth!

scofieldza | stock.adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 20

My Friend Frank

By Alex Phuong

A young life

Taken away

As a teen

I had struggled

Yet continue to endure

For my heart is pure

I express gratitude

Despite my ineptitude

And I write

To add beauty to the world

Before my own end

No need to fear death

Fear not being remembered after death

Thank you, Anne Frank

dbrnjhrj | stock.adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 21

Contributor Bios

Alex Andy Phuong graduated from California State University-Los Angeles with his Bachelor of

Arts in English in 2015 and was an editor for Statement Magazine. He currently writes articles and

film reviews online. His writing has appeared in The Bookends Review, Society of Classical Poets,

and Wilderness House Literary Review #12/4.

Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry. She is the winner of

Spillwords Press 2020 Publication of the Year (Poetic), has been internationally published, and won

poetry awards from numerous publications. She is the author of 10 poetry books. She has recently

been published in several micro-fiction anthologies and short story publications. Christine lives in

Delaware, USA. She loves gardening and cooking. Chris lives with her husband and three cats. Her

most recent credits are: The American Writers Review; The Phoenix; Burningword Literary Journal;

Muddy River Poetry Review; The Write Connection; Ethos Literary Journal, North of Oxford, Pomona Valley

Review, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, Foliate Oak Review,

The Stray Branch, The McKinley Review, Fourth & Sycamore.

Bruce Levine, a 2019 Pushcart Prize Poetry Nominee, has spent his life as a writer of fiction and

poetry and as a music and theatre professional. Over three hundred of his works are published in over

twenty-five on-line journals including Ariel Chart, Friday Flash Fiction, Literary Yard; over thirty

print books including Poetry Quarterly, Haiku Journal, Dual Coast Magazine, Tipton Poetry Journal,

and his shows have been produced in New York and around the country. Six eBooks are available

from Amazon.com. His work is dedicated to the loving memory of his late wife, Lydia Franklin. A

native Manhattanite, Bruce lives in New York with his dog, Gabi. Visit him at www.brucelevine.com

Christopher Woods is a writer and photographer who lives in Chappell Hill, Texas. He has published a novel,

THE DREAM PATCH, a prose collection, UNDER A RIVERBED SKY, and a book of stage monologues for

actors, HEART SPEAK His photographs can be seen in his gallery -http://christopherwoods.zenfolio.com/ . His

photography prompt book for writers, FROM VISION TO TEXT, is forthcoming from PROPERTIUS PRESS.

His novella, HEARTS IN THE DARK, is forthcoming from RUNNING WILD PRESS.

Gerard Sarnat won the Poetry in the Arts First Place Award plus the Dorfman Prize, and has been nominated for

a handful of recent Pushcarts plus Best of the Net Awards. Gerry is widely published in academic-related journals

and international publications. He’s authored the collections Homeless Chronicles: From Abraham to Burning

Man (2010), Disputes (2012), 17s (2014), Melting the Ice King (2016). Gerry is a physician who’s built and

staffed clinics for the marginalized as well as a Stanford professor and healthcare CEO. Currently he is devoting

energy/ resources to deal with climate change justice. Gerry’s been married since 1969 with three kids plus six

grandsons, and is looking forward to future granddaughters. gerardsarnat.com

Nolo Segundo is the pen name of a retired teacher, 73, who chose it for the way it rolls off the tongue. Though he

wrote some poetry in his 20's as well as an unpublished novel inspired by the time he taught ESL in Phnom-Penh

in 1973-74 (leaving a year before the time of the Killing Fields), for some reason he stopped writing altogether for

over 30 years. For an equally obscure reason, 'they', the poems, began arriving in his conscious mind about 5 years

ago. Since then he's had over 50 published online/in print by literary magazines in the U.S. Britain, and even one

in India. Married for 40 years, the only other interesting aspect to his life besides his years teaching, including 3

years in the Far East, was an NDE he had at 24 whilst almost drowning in a Vermont river that shattered his former

materialist world view [as in believing only matter is real]. For 1/2 a century he has known that beneath his

conscious mind and its counterpart, the unconscious, lies an endless, eternal consciousness that has always existed,

and that what we call the world, the Universe, is permeated by a far greater and largely unknowable Mystery.'

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 22

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 23

Artur | stock.Adobe.com

Founder’s Favourites

Issue 11-June 2020

Thanks for

spending time with

my favourites.

Founder’s Favourites | June 2020—Issue 11 | 24

Hooray! Your file is uploaded and ready to be published.

Saved successfully !

Ooh no, something went wrong !