Beer A Day

Contributor: Russ Cope

- -
A man tells men
to drink a beer a day
Better than caffeine he says

Cleans out the whole system
makes sure to rid you
of stones

Makes you stand
and stretch all night
but the benefits outweigh
the wakefulness

Then tips me large
after two mugs
trickling away.


- - -

Pharmacist

Contributor: JD DeHart

- -
Others jokingly call her
Minerva as she readies
my paper bag of medicine

Her real name is pasted
on her chest but it's too
late, my sweaty imagination
has already taken over

Meandering through the idea
of a coughed up weaponized
goddess of wisdom and art
somehow stuck in a fluorescent
pharmacy constantly getting
orders filled incorrectly.


- - -

Duration

Contributor: Alan Inman

- -
How long we last
is a whisper
Not long enough
to be in this field
Betrayed by our
own limitations
Seeking eternity
in temporary places
Making midnight love
losing time.


- - -

Moment in a Marriage

Contributor: Donal Mahoney

- -
After all these years
my wife at the ironing board,
perfect in panties.


- - -
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

Gutter Music

Contributor: Angelica Fuse

- -
street voice
rises to me, the smell
of food, men
and women of dress
and means mingle
with what they would
otherwise call
the dregs, dancing
until midnight, cups
in hands draining
down into their souls


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Changing Minds

Contributor: Nate Maye

- -
Take this mind of mine,
Transpose it,
Change my view
like a mythical eye passing
among old consorts,
Talk me into a new way
as if I am on a ledge
of logic, about to leap.


- - -

High Horse

Contributor: Angelica Fuse

- -
Neighing we find
our inward barnyard
open plain identities

rushing sweeping
onward
refusing a saddle.


- - -

Hard Evidence

Contributor: Roger Still

- -
I'm looking for hard evidence,
the edge of reason
solid enough to break,
rigid enough to shatter,
I'm looking for evidence
of even my own existence,
because I feel like vapor,
the real grown ups don't seem
to want to listen to me,
I am a murmuring in a corner.


- - -

I Will Carry You

Contributor: E.S. Wynn

- -
I don't want to worry about you
but I know I will
I don't want to see you suffer
but should you
let me be the one who soothes you
who kisses the tears from your eyes
who breathes you
back to shining life
let me be the one who holds you
who walks beside you
who helps you
who makes the burdens you bear
a little lighter,
just a little lighter, my dear.


- - -
E.S. Wynn is the author of over sixty books in print and is the chief editor of Thunderune Publishing. This poem is one of many featured in the book titled "What Will Be"

Write Out Loud

Contributor: HR Creel

- -
Write the words loud
spread them on the microphone
of a beating poet heart

Write the words in graffiti
text on the sides of anything
that does not move

Spell what art is on
the bare back of the world.


- - -

Sailboat

Contributor: Nate Maye

- -
They put me at the wheel,
big mistake, and let me guide
them to the shore, but we
never made it that far, my
hands spinning, the wind
invisible and unpredictable,
going in endless circles on
the water, dizzying, maddening,
and worst of all shameful.


- - -
Nate Maye is new to poetry. He studies literature, watches more television than he should, and is from Texas.

Four Seasons of California

Contributor: Tristin A. Taylor

- -
It's now back to school
Feel the Indian Summer
The heat feels so good

It's raining out here
It is so cold and dreary
Rain please go away

Spring is beautiful
You see the flowers blooming
I love the crisp air

Hello there summer
Long time no see my dear friend
Cali summer nights


- - -
Tristin A. Taylor is a chocolate lover. She has won in a National Poetry Anthology in April 2015 for her poem "The News." You can find Tristin's work published on Eskimo Pie.

Father, Again, Peering

Contributor: Donal Mahoney

- -
The final years dear Mother she
was never, well, what actors call “on location.”
Physically, of course, we found her

everywhere:
the parlor reading,
the kitchen ironing,

the basement weeping,
unlike Father whom we never found
though he was always there.

On Sundays when he went to Mass,
he’d stay behind, peering.
Like Queeg, he’d stare

from under or behind
whatever he wasn't
hiding in front of.


- - -
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

Truly Known

Contributor: Alan Inman

- -
To truly know,
shine the light on,
hold the gleam of a beam
that pierces the 3 AM
veil, and then to return
that knowing glance

with a nod
or some other sign
that says, I know you too.


- - -
Alan Inman is a New York poet. His words are available around the web.

Absorb

Contributor: Russ Cope

- -
Take me in
through the skin
a peculiar drug

Take me in
through the nose
a fecund scent

Take me in
through the cone
absorbed in the eye

Let me populate
your world
with my presence

Absorb me
each moment until
we are the same.


- - -

Dream Lover

Contributor: Tamsen Grace

- -
Dream lover,
Dark, warm and strong.
Softly you come
to me,
invading my dreams,
like an elusive melody
that I can't quite capture.
Playing my passion
like a master musician,
Your touch heightening
the crescendo beyond rapture.

Will you release me to the morning light?
Knowing I was never really yours to have.
Yet, forever remain
my fantasy in the night.
My dream lover.


- - -
Tamsen Grace is a published author, inspirational speaker, poet, martial artist and a cancer survivor.

Rubes

Contributor: JD DeHart

- -
call them rubes
with their drawl
and late night picking

call them slow
because they chew
on their words

call them a people
and they are

not
all rusted trucks
shirtless Sundays
gold-lined judgment.


- - -

Tilt

Contributor: Nate Maye

- -
A slight skew, lean
to the left, we
walk with our own
series of assumptions
array of abstractions,
like taking a political
quiz with no real answers,
one leg always outgrows
the other, causing tipping.


- - -

Amphetamine Chemist: The Bloodletting of the Rev. Sly Green

Contributor: Mike Roach

- -
I went to minister to the slaves in the hills of Percocet
The angel slayers with $7 tongues
Swallowing formaldehyde cigarettes in a valiant failure to spare their lungs
The silent cold has settled into my aching bones
The candles have melted away with my soul
And if they want me dead, I'll die a king's death
They'll have to take my head
Or wait patiently for me to lose it on my own
Rip out my heart and take it to the scrap yard for whatever they can get
Leave the shell at the landfill and try to forget
Draw my blood like wine into bottles and let it ferment
Save the sadness, let it ruin in the rain and turn to regret
Vinegar on my brain for the maggots in my head
Eating away all the dead flesh
And if they never want me to take another breath
I'll quietly die a poet's death
All alone with my notebooks and my pride
All sewn together with foolish prayers
And in Christmas lights mummified


- - -
I'm Mike Roach and I write poems. I am a Zen Buddhist and father from Memphis, TN. I enjoy seething and ripping off Bob Dylan, Jack Kerouac, Quentin Tarantino, Arthur Rimbaud, and Allen Ginsberg.

Lion Grows a Beard

Contributor: Angelica Fuse

- -
his mane
keeps his neck warm
but it's not enough
so he grows
the beard to cover
his teeth

still, passersby
stare at him
as he walks to work


- - -

Country Cafeteria

Contributor: Donal Mahoney

- -
The two weeks
I spent in that small town
on assignment, I saw no blacks
except for two older women
regal in every way,
hair coifed in silver gray,
working in the Country Cafeteria.
They walked like pastors’ wives
as they bused their 20 tables.
White badges on their uniforms
announced in red their names,
their years of service.
They never said a word,
not even to each other.
They just took the cups and plates away
and wiped oil tablecloths pristine.
I took three meals a day in silence there,
the only place in town to eat.
I was the stranger in a suit and tie,
a city weed among stout farmers in old coveralls
who came to town each day to note
“no rain yet” and “the corn is dyin’.”
Before each meal instead of saying Grace,
I wanted to stand and ask these ladies
as they bowed before the clutter on their tables:
If you have worked here all these years,
and lived in this town also,
where in the Name of God,
other than at home or church,
are you free to talk or laugh or sing
or clap your hands in emancipation?


- - -
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

Dangerous

Contributor: Ridley Flock

- -
It's a dangerous
fire that first lights up
in a soul, to begin
crafting a narrative
of one's own life,
returning to place of birth,
listening to retellings
of old stories,
it's dangerous because
one can never tell the whole
truth completely.


- - -
Ridley Flock is a young poet, starting his journey through words.

Don’t

Contributor: Paul Tristram

- -
She screamed “Don’t!”
everyone looked in the direction
of the phone box
she was standing limp in.
Wearing a loose nightie,
open dressing gown
and one furry rabbit slipper.
Ten to midnight
at the busy terminus
at the top end of Town.
She let the telephone
fall from her shaking hand
and slid unladylike
down the glass side
onto the uneven concrete floor.
Where she cried herself silent,
rocking back and fore,
a bubble from her left nostril
augmenting with each shudder.
Some people tutted,
others shook their heads,
a few crossed themselves quickly.
But no one stopped except to gawk,
no one intervened even slightly.
She was left alone to figure it out
by everyone including me.


- - -
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet.
Buy his book ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press) http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1943170096

Old Bones

Contributor: HR Creel

- -
These are the old bones
that gathered me, that
spoke, like an ancient text

words wrapping around me,
a cloak of parchment, helping
me to stand, a new blade

glinting in the light of hope.


- - -

Incognito

Contributor: Alan Inman

- -
He of wide brim hat,
of mustache that is pasted on,
of names made up
from the sounds of billboard signs,
of lines that have been
rendered, created, broken,
He of strolling by
without your knowing it.


- - -

Atlas

Contributor: Nate Maye

- -
If I could take your world
on my shoulders, bear all
unkindness for you, I might
try, if my muscles were
broad enough, bones strong
enough

If I could hold up the world
for a few more minutes,
I would at least think about it,
if nothing else for your sake.


- - -
Nate Maye is new to poetry. He studies literature, watches more television than he should, and is from Texas.

Fisticuffs

Contributor: Thomas M. McDade

- -
One doctor assures
the dramatic rise
in my blood
pressure prior
to a Red Cross
donation is due
to white coat syndrome
and not hypertension
as it’s always on
the money
office visits.
Another physician
says don’t worry
about the chest pain.
There’s nothing wrong
or your heart would
be enlarged
but she does not
call on a birthday
balloon or
bowling ball
to dramatize.
Your ticker is the size
of a fist she says and holds
up hers that’s not
even the size
of a flyweight pug.
Peaks, digits and
valleys on the ceiling
mounted monitoring
display go
bonkers as I
imagine childhood
bullies keen to this
comparison waving
threatening hams,
deadly
valentines.


- - -
Thomas M. McDade lives in Fredericksburg, VA
He is a graduate of Fairfield University
He is a U.S. Navy Veteran

Grounds for Separation

Contributor: Donal Mahoney

- -
There's nothing wrong with you.
We both know this is true

but there's something wrong with me
and you know what that is.

It's the elephant in the room
standing on our mantel

trumpeting "I'm here!"
I'll call when I find out

what's wrong with me
and then I'll buy a yo-yo

a shiny one with rhinestones
the kind we had as kids

and we can try that trick
"walking the dog" again.


- - -
Nominated for Best of the Net and Pushcart prizes, Donal Mahoney has had work published in print and electronic publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa.

Bleach

Contributor: JD DeHart

- -
I just dreamed she
was a bleached blonde
but I know better,
Running up to me in a long
familiar unfamiliar hallways,
wrinkles and cracks.
She wants information, my
dreaming self knows I won't
share; I have never shared
very well. In front of my
eyes flash a series
of red images. Any one
of them would make
a perfect tattoo. That's how
I know I am awake.


- - -

All Of The Moments

Contributor: E.S. Wynn

- -
For all of the moments when we will laugh
share puns
share bad jokes
tickle and tease
close in
on private chuckles
breathe grins
speak for smiles
and stand happy
together
together

For all of the moments when we will stare
when silence will rattle with life
when the world will fall away
frozen and electric
colors paused
just for us
as we stand


hand in hand
together
together

for all of the moments when we will scream
tear at each other
fuck primal
like crashing waves
screaming heat
screaming toward destruction
together
together

for all of the moments when we will cry
hold each other through the tears
cling
like drowning sailors
to raft-sides
to strong hands
freely offered
while the wind blows on around us


and we weather it all
together
together

for all of the moments when we will stand
lift up and protect each other
eyes alive with iron
white-hot fire
unshakable
unbreakable
steel-staunch for sacrifice
knowing we never stand alone
when we stand
together
together

for all of the moments when we will rest
cuddle up in warm arms
snug
close beneath blankets
and be
just be
meld and melt
into one
together
together

For all of these moments and more
I can't wait to meet you
I can't wait to take your hand
walk with you
into the future
into forever
together
always together.


- - -
E.S. Wynn is the author of over sixty books in print and is the chief editor of Thunderune Publishing. This poem is one of many featured in the book titled "What Will Be"

Always Friendly

Contributor: JD DeHart

- -
In these digital landscapes
we trickle and tickle with words
etched in glowing cursor

Sounds meet and merge
in bound affinity spaces,
one would hope packed
always with friends

Gathered around a literary
cause, assembled by love
of writ and lit, always
submerged in the latest story

Always drafting the next verse.


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