Hear Me Roar by Ann Marie Steele

Niagara, 1857 by Frederic Edwin Church
Image courtesy of the National Gallery of Art

The roar of Niagara Falls, while eluding sound, doesn’t fail to irradiate
sight with its jazzy waves and frothy strokes of jade — these sweeping

illusions, swallowed whole by the Deep, howl against deafening winds, westward
and warbling — veiling the fading sunlight holding Hope hostage—

as renegade avalanches are welcomed by a deluge of stratus tears wailing louder
than the Sky itself — the gaze lustily cascades over escarpments of

 towering cliffs while the river’s limbs engulf the clamoring boulders — dark talons
of the night threaten to eviscerate the roaring cacophony of

discord with the manifestation of gloom alone— if the eyes can imagine the jaded
purging into the Deep, can that which does not roar still be Heard?

steele
Ann Marie Steele

Ann Marie Steele wrote this ekphrastic poem, inspired by Frederic Edwin Church’s 1857 painting Niagara, which was first published in The Ekphrastic Review, October 20, 2023 in their Ekphrastic Challenges series. Read about ekphrastic poetry in Niagara.

Ann Marie Steele, who resides in Charlotte, NC, America, is a writer who dabs mainly in free
verse and prose poetry. She holds a BS in Journalism (News-Editorial), and an MA in Secondary
English Education. Ann Marie pens pieces about love and loss, and what she observes and
experiences. The loss of her youngest son, Brandon, has influenced much of her writing. Her
works have been described as “resiliently defiant.”
Ann Marie has been published in The Ekphrastic Review with her pieces Every Lilly Donned with
Grief, I Dare You, Pretty Please, and Hear Me Roar, as well as in Exist Otherwise with her poem
Scintillating Symbiotic Sea. When not teaching high school English, Ann Marie
enjoys partner acrobatics, where she can often be seen flying upside down.

See Ann Marie Steele’ blog at annmsteele99.medium.com/

Dry Falls by Julie A. Dickson

dewatered
Dewatered American Falls From Prospect Point Observation Tower; Showing Rock Build-Up at Base, 1969
Photo by Albert Knobloch
Image courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library

Back in ‘69
was decided to divert
mighty river
to dry falls.

Why, you might ask
For the Army Corp
to remove large rocks,
great majesty to fall

further into depths
at the base, Maid to see
splendor from the mist
but did they expect

remains to be found,
those fallen and drowned
forever lost in those rocks?
Spectators traveled far

and even those near sought
to see the dry falls, huge
drop sans thunderous water;
I was among those there

young teen at the railing,
hundreds lined up, a turn
to witness such an event,
dried up river bed, dry falls

never seen again since,
burned into my closed eyes,
even photographs cannot
diminish that great memory.

 

julie a dickson
Julie A. Dickson

This poem was written in 2024 and is previously unpublished.

Julie A. Dickson is originally from Buffalo, NY. Her father’s family was from Guelph and Vineland Station, Ontario, Canada in the late 1800’s, they founded the Culverhouse Canning Factory there. Dickson lived near Lake Erie and Niagara Falls until her early teens, when her family relocated to Massachusetts. Always the lakes-girls, her poems often reflect in memories of Lakes Ontario and Erie, and visiting the falls. Her poems appears in many journals including Ekphrastic Review, Misfit, Open Door and others; full length works on Amazon. Dickson has been a guest editor, past poetry board member, is an advocate for captive elephants and shares her home with two rescued cats.

Julie A. Dickson was the guest editor of the Ekphrastic Review challenge to write a poem inspired by Frederic Edwin Church’s painting Niagara, 1857. See a page about ekphrastic poetry of Niagara, including the poems from the Ekphrastic Review

Read about the dewatered Niagara Falls

Yellow Slicker [1967] by Julie A. Dickson

Yellow Slicker [1967]

slicker
Cave of the Winds, Niagara Falls NY
Two separate touring parties, one approaching and the other leaving Hurricane Deck . In foreground is Wildcat Stream. In background at right, Bridal Veil Falls and at left, American Falls

From a postcard in the collection of the Niagara Falls Public Library

smelled slightly sour
perhaps oily –
definitely stained

The rubber boots
were too large
for my child-sized feet

We stood in line
my brother and me
between slicker-ed parents

Slowly we walked down
metal stairs into a cave –
rush of water loud in my ears

damp, moldy smelling walls,
water trickling down, looked
at the floor  to ensure firm footing

until we reached the look-out.
Cave of the Winds, they said,
strange to a child of seven

whistling and howling winds
blew through, spraying my face,
a fine sheen of water soaking me

Peered out from behind a sheet
of water, thundering past cave
opening to the rocks below

I squeezed mother’s hand
feeling the power it yielded,
yellow slicker enveloped me

Julie A. Dickson

Julie A. Dickson is originally from Buffalo, NY. Her father’s family was from Guelph and Vineland Station, Ontario, Canada in the late 1800’s, they founded the Culverhouse Canning Factory there. Dickson lived near Lake Erie and Niagara Falls until her early teens, when her family relocated to Massachusetts. Always the lakes-girls, her poems often reflect in memories of Lakes Ontario and Erie, and visiting the falls. Her poems appears in many journals including Ekphrastic Review, Misfit, Open Door and others; full length works on Amazon. Dickson has been a guest editor, past poetry board member, is an advocate for captive elephants and shares her home with two rescued cats.

Julie A. Dickson was the guest editor of the Ekphrastic Review challenge to write a poem inspired by Frederic Edwin Church’s painting Niagara, 1857. See a page about ekphrastic poetry of Niagara, including the poems from the Ekphrastic Review

Niagara River 1965 by Julie A. Dickson

julie
Unknown group having a picnic in Queen Victoria Park, Niagara Falls, July, 1927 From the Niagara Parks Commission Collection, Niagara Falls Public Library

Forceful rush of water, loud
flowing toward the precipice,
I stood alongside the grassy edge
of the Niagara River, shoes kicked off,
toes independently investigating
blades of grass and dandelions.

Standing away from a blanket
spread with our wicker picnic
basket, cloth napkins and cooler,
my mother’s eyes were shadowed
behind dark glasses, but I knew
they were on me and the wild
river behind, the smell of
a steel plant, an acrid invasion
to mingle odors with moisture filled air.

So close to the water, she shook her head
when I begged to wade, not knowing
the demon force would sweep
a child away like so many memories.

We picnicked with a game
of brightly colored rings, tossed
to my father and to my brother
who leapt up to catch the red one.
My mother sedentary  in contrast to
the activity of family games
beside the raging river.

Julie A. Dickson
Niagara River 1965 written 2018, previously unpublished.

Julie A. Dickson is originally from Buffalo, NY. Her father’s family was from Guelph and Vineland Station, Ontario, Canada in the late 1800’s, they founded the Culverhouse Canning Factory there. Dickson lived near Lake Erie and Niagara Falls until her early teens, when her family relocated to Massachusetts. Always the lakes-girls, her poems often reflect in memories of Lakes Ontario and Erie, and visiting the falls. Her poems appears in many journals including Ekphrastic Review, Misfit, Open Door and others; full length works on Amazon. Dickson has been a guest editor, past poetry board member, is an advocate for captive elephants and shares her home with two rescued cats.

Julie A. Dickson was the guest editor of the Ekphrastic Review challenge to write a poem inspired by Frederic Edwin Church’s painting Niagara, 1857. See a page about ekphrastic poetry, including the poems from the Ekphrastic Review

Niagara Ball Falls by Julie A. Dickson

dickson
American Falls dewatered, June-November 1969. Photo by Michael Dumele.
Image courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library

Ball bounces to theriver       Niagara

swept downstream    in torrents   of

rushing current   thunderous      wild

over     falling into mist             gone

Kept back from theedge         mother

clings to my shirtback           I scream

loss of ball   the worst thing         ever

Father tells ofbarrels         going over

on purpose   on a dare          tightrope

stretched acrossraging        cold river

My child’s eye blindto       such feats

Guinness book but           some deaths

Broken bodies   barrels           swirling

detritus    among rocks     angry water

thrown up    tantrum of        white mist

When they dammed thefalls         dry

one year   we saw wood       fragments

dare-devil bones but            not my ball

Julie A. Dickson
Niagara Ball Falls written and published in Mini Mag 2023
 

Julie A. Dickson is originally from Buffalo, NY. Her father’s family was from Guelph and Vineland Station, Ontario, Canada in the late 1800’s, they founded the Culverhouse Canning Factory there. Dickson lived near Lake Erie and Niagara Falls until her early teens, when her family relocated to Massachusetts. Always the lakes-girls, her poems often reflect in memories of Lakes Ontario and Erie, and visiting the falls. Her poems appears in many journals including Ekphrastic Review, Misfit, Open Door and others; full length works on Amazon. Dickson has been a guest editor, past poetry board member, is an advocate for captive elephants and shares her home with two rescued cats.

Julie A. Dickson was the guest editor of the Ekphrastic Review challenge to write a poem inspired by Frederic Edwin Church’s painting Niagara, 1857. See a page about ekphrastic poetry of Niagara, including the poems from the Ekphrastic Review

Read about When Niagara Falls Ran Dry