Contributor: Adam Levon Brown
- -
Two lone wolves
prowled the vicinity
Their father lay
broken and ensnared
in magical chains
Hati and Skoll
Howled to the misery
of desperation
Forging a bond
that could never
be undone
Blood dripped
from the crescent
razor at the feet
of the Gods
Not one moment
did the Aesir relent
in their ideals
A golden Valkyrie
Watched on and knew
That the night would
end in bloodshed
- - -
Adam Levon Brown is an internationally published poet, and amateur photographer living in Eugene, Oregon.
Pages
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Saturday, June 30, 2018
Friday, June 29, 2018
Nothingdust
Contributor: Obellia Pitlex
- -
I touch your hand
you reach
try to touch my face
but I am dust, now.
I am a wind
free to fly
at last
free to fly
and see
all that I have always yearned
to see.
- - -
I build bits and suffer fools only because the pay is great.
- -
I touch your hand
you reach
try to touch my face
but I am dust, now.
I am a wind
free to fly
at last
free to fly
and see
all that I have always yearned
to see.
- - -
I build bits and suffer fools only because the pay is great.
Thursday, June 28, 2018
Missiles and Land Mines
Contributor: Donal Mahoney
- -
After the poetry reading
the lights go on and a lady
under a big hat rises
behind dark sunglasses
and asks the poet why
he never writes about sex.
He says for the same reason
he never writes about war.
What more can be said
about missiles in flight
and land mines that need
the right touch to go off.
- - -
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
- -
After the poetry reading
the lights go on and a lady
under a big hat rises
behind dark sunglasses
and asks the poet why
he never writes about sex.
He says for the same reason
he never writes about war.
What more can be said
about missiles in flight
and land mines that need
the right touch to go off.
- - -
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
Wednesday, June 27, 2018
Older, Higher, Wiser
Contributor: T.L.R. DeLong
- -
From beast to overman
and all in less
than ten generations
and you still say
there's no way
anything could have come before
that the screws in the stone
or the carbon in the cracks
between our many varied ages
are merely circumstance
hoax piled upon hopes
that show
the folly of human belief
human endeavor.
Heap high the wild tales
the bible stories
of fallen Gomorrah
of floods and Noah
obscure the truth
that we were once more
that we were once
so much more
until everything
came crashing down around us
until everything we had built
went belly-up
for all our expertise
all our insight
and all for nothing
against real disasters
that leveled real cities
crumbled real cultures
even in those ages
of our own hidden, distant past.
- - -
I write about what stirs my passions. I write for the fire of it, and nothing less.
- -
From beast to overman
and all in less
than ten generations
and you still say
there's no way
anything could have come before
that the screws in the stone
or the carbon in the cracks
between our many varied ages
are merely circumstance
hoax piled upon hopes
that show
the folly of human belief
human endeavor.
Heap high the wild tales
the bible stories
of fallen Gomorrah
of floods and Noah
obscure the truth
that we were once more
that we were once
so much more
until everything
came crashing down around us
until everything we had built
went belly-up
for all our expertise
all our insight
and all for nothing
against real disasters
that leveled real cities
crumbled real cultures
even in those ages
of our own hidden, distant past.
- - -
I write about what stirs my passions. I write for the fire of it, and nothing less.
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
Laughter
Contributor: Jack Rider
- -
Do you remember that moment
When we drenched ourselves
With water balloons on Saturdays and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When we fought each other
In a tickle war under the blankets and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When we nearly blew up
Your kitchen trying to bake a cake and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When we snuck out at 3 A.M.
For those delicious tacos and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When we ditched our dates
On Prom Night for a walk on the beach and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When you married the love of your life
And he tripped walking you out and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When our kids drenched each other
With water balloons on Saturdays and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When we sat on those rocking chairs
Talking about the old days and laughed?
I still remember all those moments and
I hope we come together again and laugh.
- - -
Jack is an avid cook with an expertise in classic grilled cheeses. Along with cooking, he loves to let his dogs loose to chase the birds at the park. His home is on the road as he explores new locations from across the block to around the world.
- -
Do you remember that moment
When we drenched ourselves
With water balloons on Saturdays and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When we fought each other
In a tickle war under the blankets and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When we nearly blew up
Your kitchen trying to bake a cake and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When we snuck out at 3 A.M.
For those delicious tacos and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When we ditched our dates
On Prom Night for a walk on the beach and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When you married the love of your life
And he tripped walking you out and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When our kids drenched each other
With water balloons on Saturdays and laughed?
Do you remember that moment
When we sat on those rocking chairs
Talking about the old days and laughed?
I still remember all those moments and
I hope we come together again and laugh.
- - -
Jack is an avid cook with an expertise in classic grilled cheeses. Along with cooking, he loves to let his dogs loose to chase the birds at the park. His home is on the road as he explores new locations from across the block to around the world.
Monday, June 25, 2018
JOURNAL ENTRY
Contributor: Stefanie Bennett
- -
It's no illusion:
that Pavarotti
finch
whistles
while
she works
beside
an ochre
& red
backdrop
one shy
octave
at a time.
- - -
Of mixed ancestry [Italian/Irish/Paugusset-Shawnee] Stefanie was born in Qld., Australia & worked with Arts Action For Peace. She has several poetry books published.
- -
It's no illusion:
that Pavarotti
finch
whistles
while
she works
beside
an ochre
& red
backdrop
one shy
octave
at a time.
- - -
Of mixed ancestry [Italian/Irish/Paugusset-Shawnee] Stefanie was born in Qld., Australia & worked with Arts Action For Peace. She has several poetry books published.
Sunday, June 24, 2018
Fool’s Gold
Contributor: Jefferson Ma
- -
All he ever wanted was love
Even if it meant becoming a slave
A slave to the passion of a brown eyed girl
Who in casual fashion, played him for a fool
Oblivious and blinded by her dazzle
Fell head over heels for the damsel
Money make 'em feel good, but does she make me feel good
Known for gettin' that guala out in Europe, but I'm still hood
He fell deeper into her perfect and flawless
While she fell deeper in the depths of his pockets
Consumed by her hoax of a smile
Endeavored into her coax of love
He thought his world was changing
While his bank account starting breaking
He was ready to give her everything
and threw his money into giving her a ring
Money make 'em feel good, but does she make me feel good
Known for gettin' that guala out in Europe, but I'm still hood
Five months for her to cash in his money
Five minutes for her to smash all his feelings
Like a bad rash she disappeared
As he realized the last half year had been trash
All he ever wanted was her love
Even if it meant becoming her slave
Money make 'em feel good, but does she make me feel good
Known for gettin' that guala out in Europe, but I'm still hood
- - -
Jefferson Ma is the reincarnation of Beyonce every time he steps into his car. He has also known how to bargain before he could walk, convincing his parents he needed a 5 minute timeout instead of 10. He will spend hours thinking of how to be a successful villain while binging seasons of The Flash and The Arrow.
- -
All he ever wanted was love
Even if it meant becoming a slave
A slave to the passion of a brown eyed girl
Who in casual fashion, played him for a fool
Oblivious and blinded by her dazzle
Fell head over heels for the damsel
Money make 'em feel good, but does she make me feel good
Known for gettin' that guala out in Europe, but I'm still hood
He fell deeper into her perfect and flawless
While she fell deeper in the depths of his pockets
Consumed by her hoax of a smile
Endeavored into her coax of love
He thought his world was changing
While his bank account starting breaking
He was ready to give her everything
and threw his money into giving her a ring
Money make 'em feel good, but does she make me feel good
Known for gettin' that guala out in Europe, but I'm still hood
Five months for her to cash in his money
Five minutes for her to smash all his feelings
Like a bad rash she disappeared
As he realized the last half year had been trash
All he ever wanted was her love
Even if it meant becoming her slave
Money make 'em feel good, but does she make me feel good
Known for gettin' that guala out in Europe, but I'm still hood
- - -
Jefferson Ma is the reincarnation of Beyonce every time he steps into his car. He has also known how to bargain before he could walk, convincing his parents he needed a 5 minute timeout instead of 10. He will spend hours thinking of how to be a successful villain while binging seasons of The Flash and The Arrow.
Saturday, June 23, 2018
The Ocean’s Pull
Contributor: Daniel Corda
- -
The ocean spray had engulfed me
Like a silk blue sheet, it washed over me
As I gazed into the serene, starlit, skyline
It had just become night, the sky engulfed in the moon’s light
A reflection of myself in the tumbling water
Shone through, making me realize I wanted to spend it with you
Now dragging my feet in the sand
All I could see was you and I hand in hand.
And so, I made a quick stop, its strong, sweet scent attracting me
And so, I strayed nearby, to the flower shop
And so, with you on my mind the entire time
I left with a handful of blossoms, bright, brilliant, and beautiful.
The bouquet I had bought
With beauty like Aphrodite
Had now shown me
That it was you who had set me free
- - -
Daniel Corda arrives home looking forward to greeting his two dogs after a long day. He looks forward to walking alongside his furry companions.
- -
The ocean spray had engulfed me
Like a silk blue sheet, it washed over me
As I gazed into the serene, starlit, skyline
It had just become night, the sky engulfed in the moon’s light
A reflection of myself in the tumbling water
Shone through, making me realize I wanted to spend it with you
Now dragging my feet in the sand
All I could see was you and I hand in hand.
And so, I made a quick stop, its strong, sweet scent attracting me
And so, I strayed nearby, to the flower shop
And so, with you on my mind the entire time
I left with a handful of blossoms, bright, brilliant, and beautiful.
The bouquet I had bought
With beauty like Aphrodite
Had now shown me
That it was you who had set me free
- - -
Daniel Corda arrives home looking forward to greeting his two dogs after a long day. He looks forward to walking alongside his furry companions.
Friday, June 22, 2018
Clarity
Contributor: Mario Amario
- -
Recalling the time
We sat together
While discussing the future
Like we had a clue
We talked about children
Our future plans
It all seemed so blissful then
Together with you
Your hand felt soft
Intertwined with mine
Our hopes were so high
On that night
My last memory
Is of your laugh
As we kissed
And hugged goodbye
Now I see you
And our future is clear
As you lay there
In your wooden bed
- - -
Mario enjoys dominating opponents in Monopoly. When he is not ruthlessly crushing his
opponents he enjoys spending time with his dog Gastly. Together they search every park
looking for other dogs to pet.
- -
Recalling the time
We sat together
While discussing the future
Like we had a clue
We talked about children
Our future plans
It all seemed so blissful then
Together with you
Your hand felt soft
Intertwined with mine
Our hopes were so high
On that night
My last memory
Is of your laugh
As we kissed
And hugged goodbye
Now I see you
And our future is clear
As you lay there
In your wooden bed
- - -
Mario enjoys dominating opponents in Monopoly. When he is not ruthlessly crushing his
opponents he enjoys spending time with his dog Gastly. Together they search every park
looking for other dogs to pet.
Thursday, June 21, 2018
Sparking Comedy
Contributor: Timothy Nguyen
- -
The light in my head flashes
As I process the words with a grin.
Looking at my friends,
I gauge their reactions.
I approach them with great anticipation
Mentally reciting the sequence over and over.
Before long, I have their attention,
And present everything to the punchline,
To see their smiles sprout like flowers,
Followed by laughter,
The most satisfying response.
- - -
- -
The light in my head flashes
As I process the words with a grin.
Looking at my friends,
I gauge their reactions.
I approach them with great anticipation
Mentally reciting the sequence over and over.
Before long, I have their attention,
And present everything to the punchline,
To see their smiles sprout like flowers,
Followed by laughter,
The most satisfying response.
- - -
Wednesday, June 20, 2018
Keepsake
Contributor: JD DeHart
- -
The strange little box,
with its mythical childhood
properties.
I could slide one panel
out from the front and store
very slim objects inside.
Kind of like emotions
and psychology work, I suppose.
Most boxes are only as good
as what's inside them, but this
wooden keepsake with its
geometric markings proved
to be an interesting species
of its own design.
- - -
- -
The strange little box,
with its mythical childhood
properties.
I could slide one panel
out from the front and store
very slim objects inside.
Kind of like emotions
and psychology work, I suppose.
Most boxes are only as good
as what's inside them, but this
wooden keepsake with its
geometric markings proved
to be an interesting species
of its own design.
- - -
Tuesday, June 19, 2018
Hidden
Contributor: Jack Rider
- -
I breathe in the dark vapor
Shallow, sharp and shade
An eye, but not mine, shines
Who is she or he or me,
A Jack of all Trades?
Better yet a Jack of all Faces
Dividends of a dull old deck
Reveals rogue reflections
I move the rook on the board
White square, black square
A satisfying thud echoes
As the pawns falls from my blow
Someone stands inside the box,
Someone stares inside of it.
Someone, still that someone is not me,
Hidden in smoke and mirrors.
- - -
Jack is an avid cook with an expertise in classic grilled cheeses. Along with cooking, he loves to let his dogs loose to chase the birds at the park. His home is on the road as he explores new locations from across the block to around the world.
- -
I breathe in the dark vapor
Shallow, sharp and shade
An eye, but not mine, shines
Who is she or he or me,
A Jack of all Trades?
Better yet a Jack of all Faces
Dividends of a dull old deck
Reveals rogue reflections
I move the rook on the board
White square, black square
A satisfying thud echoes
As the pawns falls from my blow
Someone stands inside the box,
Someone stares inside of it.
Someone, still that someone is not me,
Hidden in smoke and mirrors.
- - -
Jack is an avid cook with an expertise in classic grilled cheeses. Along with cooking, he loves to let his dogs loose to chase the birds at the park. His home is on the road as he explores new locations from across the block to around the world.
Monday, June 18, 2018
Wheelchair with a View
Contributor: Donal Mahoney
- -
When you sit in this chair all day
and look out the window for years,
the garden is calendar and clock
declaring the coming of seasons.
You know when to expect them
but spring is always a surprise.
After surviving long winters
you forget after so many years
the daffodils will shout again
and blooms on the redbud cover
leaves that will hide young robins,
their beaks open for more.
Winter is all you remember until,
for reasons only God knows,
spring smiles again.
- - -
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
- -
When you sit in this chair all day
and look out the window for years,
the garden is calendar and clock
declaring the coming of seasons.
You know when to expect them
but spring is always a surprise.
After surviving long winters
you forget after so many years
the daffodils will shout again
and blooms on the redbud cover
leaves that will hide young robins,
their beaks open for more.
Winter is all you remember until,
for reasons only God knows,
spring smiles again.
- - -
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
Sunday, June 17, 2018
To Migrate Or To Stay
Contributor: John Grey
- -
Evening grosbeaks,
black and yellow,
feed on grass tips.
I stand behind the glass doors,
watch them interact,
small almost imperceptible messages
passed between by eye or sound,
answering hunger one moment
and instinct the next.
They will fly south soon,
so the ones that survive that treacherous journey
can winter in paradise.
I'll stay behind,
feel the temperature drop day by day,
witness the gathering of gray clouds
and the surrender of the landscape
to snow.
There's nothing in me
to match the innate impulses
of these tiny birds.
Yes, I may turn up the heat.
But, much as I'd like to,
I don't head automatically for Florida
when the colors change.
I'm a year round resident
like the unlovely sparrows.
Day after day, I'm witness
as they eke out a perilous living.
I live in a small house
on a unremarkable lot,
that's occupied by
creatures that leave for a better situation,
those that don't
and a few, like me,
who'd leave if it were feasible
but stay because it's not.
Not much of a selection, no doubt.
And yet, who have I forgotten?
- - -
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Examined Life Journal, Evening Street Review and Columbia Review with work upcoming in Leading Edge, Poetry East and Midwest Quarterly.
- -
Evening grosbeaks,
black and yellow,
feed on grass tips.
I stand behind the glass doors,
watch them interact,
small almost imperceptible messages
passed between by eye or sound,
answering hunger one moment
and instinct the next.
They will fly south soon,
so the ones that survive that treacherous journey
can winter in paradise.
I'll stay behind,
feel the temperature drop day by day,
witness the gathering of gray clouds
and the surrender of the landscape
to snow.
There's nothing in me
to match the innate impulses
of these tiny birds.
Yes, I may turn up the heat.
But, much as I'd like to,
I don't head automatically for Florida
when the colors change.
I'm a year round resident
like the unlovely sparrows.
Day after day, I'm witness
as they eke out a perilous living.
I live in a small house
on a unremarkable lot,
that's occupied by
creatures that leave for a better situation,
those that don't
and a few, like me,
who'd leave if it were feasible
but stay because it's not.
Not much of a selection, no doubt.
And yet, who have I forgotten?
- - -
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Examined Life Journal, Evening Street Review and Columbia Review with work upcoming in Leading Edge, Poetry East and Midwest Quarterly.
Saturday, June 16, 2018
Animal
Contributor: Ananya S Guha
- -
Within the sly animal
prowls, within
all is a show
as the animal lies
dormant, within
only call of death
is reminder, that
the animal too will
die, call it a day
restless in the soul.
- - -
- -
Within the sly animal
prowls, within
all is a show
as the animal lies
dormant, within
only call of death
is reminder, that
the animal too will
die, call it a day
restless in the soul.
- - -
Friday, June 15, 2018
Genuine Forever
Contributor: Korra Abraham-Whatley
- -
When you left
it tore me
the knife
the pulling
the separation
flesh cut from flesh
heart cut from heart
and soul
slashed to ribbons
left to flutter
in icy winds
in icy eternity
a forever
so temporary
yet I couldn't see it
couldn't see it
until the ice had melted
until I stood on a hill
surrounded by green
and saw everything I've ever wanted
in a better man
in one
who reached out to me
with such a softness
who took my hand
led me
into genuine forever.
- - -
I live in a suitcase and enjoy writing poetry while watching the glittering lights of Los Angeles, Rome and Ontario.
- -
When you left
it tore me
the knife
the pulling
the separation
flesh cut from flesh
heart cut from heart
and soul
slashed to ribbons
left to flutter
in icy winds
in icy eternity
a forever
so temporary
yet I couldn't see it
couldn't see it
until the ice had melted
until I stood on a hill
surrounded by green
and saw everything I've ever wanted
in a better man
in one
who reached out to me
with such a softness
who took my hand
led me
into genuine forever.
- - -
I live in a suitcase and enjoy writing poetry while watching the glittering lights of Los Angeles, Rome and Ontario.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
Makes Forever Shorter
Contributor: Donal Mahoney
- -
When a bullet goes in
and doesn’t come out
you read about it
in the paper, hear
about it on TV.
A person takes a bullet
near the heart and learns
a surgeon can't remove it.
It's part of him forever.
Happens like a drive-by
shooting when a loved one
makes a comment no
apology can remove.
The loved one doesn't
know there’s a problem,
doesn’t realize lightning
through the cerebellum
is by far a better option.
Doesn't let the victim linger.
Makes forever shorter.
- - -
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
- -
When a bullet goes in
and doesn’t come out
you read about it
in the paper, hear
about it on TV.
A person takes a bullet
near the heart and learns
a surgeon can't remove it.
It's part of him forever.
Happens like a drive-by
shooting when a loved one
makes a comment no
apology can remove.
The loved one doesn't
know there’s a problem,
doesn’t realize lightning
through the cerebellum
is by far a better option.
Doesn't let the victim linger.
Makes forever shorter.
- - -
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Detour
Contributor: Jane Blanchard
- -
The route would be routine by now
If only I remembered how.
The signs I am supposed to use
Are all too likely to confuse.
Some arrow at some intersection
Leads me in some obscure direction.
I go as far out of my way
As I did just the other day.
- - -
Jane Blanchard lives and writes in Georgia. Her first collection, Unloosed, and her second, Tides & Currents, are both available from Kelsay Books.
- -
The route would be routine by now
If only I remembered how.
The signs I am supposed to use
Are all too likely to confuse.
Some arrow at some intersection
Leads me in some obscure direction.
I go as far out of my way
As I did just the other day.
- - -
Jane Blanchard lives and writes in Georgia. Her first collection, Unloosed, and her second, Tides & Currents, are both available from Kelsay Books.
Tuesday, June 12, 2018
Googietime Light
Contributor: John Dorn
- -
Silver rocket sunshine
midcentury liquid
starbursting light
all googietime
all atomic-era gloss
big brass and pink lines
aquamarine seats
and vinyl
diner facades
good wages
good growth
and bigger is better
and all we need
and all we want
we make
we make
no matter the cost.
- - -
- -
Silver rocket sunshine
midcentury liquid
starbursting light
all googietime
all atomic-era gloss
big brass and pink lines
aquamarine seats
and vinyl
diner facades
good wages
good growth
and bigger is better
and all we need
and all we want
we make
we make
no matter the cost.
- - -
Monday, June 11, 2018
Mermaid Ashtray
Contributor: JD DeHart
- -
My brother came back home
at least three times.
First, after a chemical explosion
in Alabama.
I imagine he still carries some
amount of his lead in his body.
Then, after a divorce.
Messy, like a broken ankle
of the heart. He came
hobbling back to the family
casa.
I say all of this to suggest
what a shock it was to see
him in his native habitat,
I being so much younger.
The smell of smoke, an
obsession with out-of-place
exercise equipment, and a
mermaid ashtray with
breasts exposed.
I wanted to protect the rest
of my family from its crude
visage, but couldn't bear
to touch it.
- - -
- -
My brother came back home
at least three times.
First, after a chemical explosion
in Alabama.
I imagine he still carries some
amount of his lead in his body.
Then, after a divorce.
Messy, like a broken ankle
of the heart. He came
hobbling back to the family
casa.
I say all of this to suggest
what a shock it was to see
him in his native habitat,
I being so much younger.
The smell of smoke, an
obsession with out-of-place
exercise equipment, and a
mermaid ashtray with
breasts exposed.
I wanted to protect the rest
of my family from its crude
visage, but couldn't bear
to touch it.
- - -
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Sky's Hues
Contributor: Ananya S Guha
- -
There is in me a farther end
a point, counter point
a wishful lust
the desire to bust all ideals
wallowing in surfeit
a swallow that picks up motion
I haven't the faintest notion
how things pick up and fall
crashing into eternity
waiting for posterity is blues
swallowed by sky's hues.
- - -
- -
There is in me a farther end
a point, counter point
a wishful lust
the desire to bust all ideals
wallowing in surfeit
a swallow that picks up motion
I haven't the faintest notion
how things pick up and fall
crashing into eternity
waiting for posterity is blues
swallowed by sky's hues.
- - -
Saturday, June 9, 2018
Without Nothing
Contributor: Betal P.K. Pelario
- -
born in a silver trailer
born on the road
born forever following
the silver rails
born without nothing
never without nothing
just antiques
just old radios
old memories
all pieces of grammy
all going to dust
all up in ashes
all wind
dustdevils
white devils
flaming gasoline
devoured
like the trailer
like the land
we could never settle
or soothe.
- - -
- -
born in a silver trailer
born on the road
born forever following
the silver rails
born without nothing
never without nothing
just antiques
just old radios
old memories
all pieces of grammy
all going to dust
all up in ashes
all wind
dustdevils
white devils
flaming gasoline
devoured
like the trailer
like the land
we could never settle
or soothe.
- - -
Friday, June 8, 2018
Little Perry
Contributor: Louie T. Clocksworth
- -
Tiny blossom
pink petunia cheeks
my sweet
my love
how small
we start
as a seed
of being
squealing
eager
to grow
to roam
to run
to be
all a man
was ever meant
to be.
- - -
- -
Tiny blossom
pink petunia cheeks
my sweet
my love
how small
we start
as a seed
of being
squealing
eager
to grow
to roam
to run
to be
all a man
was ever meant
to be.
- - -
Thursday, June 7, 2018
Sacrifices
Contributor: Billie Elizabeth Zehendler
- -
On the ice
without my hook
without my coat
red hands
cold quiver
and eyes
my eyes
frosted at the edges
icicle tears
for all I've seen
for all I've done
for all I can't turn back
no matter how much
I might want to.
- - -
- -
On the ice
without my hook
without my coat
red hands
cold quiver
and eyes
my eyes
frosted at the edges
icicle tears
for all I've seen
for all I've done
for all I can't turn back
no matter how much
I might want to.
- - -
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
Wander, Wonder
Contributor: Arianna Ramos
- -
I walked barefoot on hot coals
Down the mainest street
Of general catastrophe.
Fire under my feet,
I wonder who walked her
So heavy,
To make my stroll so strained.
I hoped they’d yell at me.
About where their life was going
Before they packed it under
The soles of their finest shoe
And dragged through
A withered world
In angered beauty.
- - -
Arianna is a young poet from Boston, Massachusetts. She is currently studying to earn her bachelors in Entrepreneurial business and Professional Writing. Her passion and favorite pass time is writing and finding new music.
- -
I walked barefoot on hot coals
Down the mainest street
Of general catastrophe.
Fire under my feet,
I wonder who walked her
So heavy,
To make my stroll so strained.
I hoped they’d yell at me.
About where their life was going
Before they packed it under
The soles of their finest shoe
And dragged through
A withered world
In angered beauty.
- - -
Arianna is a young poet from Boston, Massachusetts. She is currently studying to earn her bachelors in Entrepreneurial business and Professional Writing. Her passion and favorite pass time is writing and finding new music.
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
Space Program
Contributor: Donal Mahoney
- -
I understand
the next spaceship
goes to Mars.
The Moon’s old hat.
We went there long ago.
Our flag is planted.
I’d rather go
where old monks go
on wings of prayer.
- - -
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
- -
I understand
the next spaceship
goes to Mars.
The Moon’s old hat.
We went there long ago.
Our flag is planted.
I’d rather go
where old monks go
on wings of prayer.
- - -
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
Monday, June 4, 2018
Spite in the Ice
Contributor: Barretta Gardeni
- -
Her lies, her lies
we see them
we see their light
in her eyes
slithering
glimmering
slick skin of the snake
inside
inside ice
inside a sheen of strife
her malice
her mind
full of violence
teeth keen
iced tines
for slicing
biting
poisoning
purposefully tearing
the soul from the meat
the sweet
from the soft
until nothing remains
until nothing stirs
but spite
spit
in the ice.
- - -
I tend roses and write about the past.
- -
Her lies, her lies
we see them
we see their light
in her eyes
slithering
glimmering
slick skin of the snake
inside
inside ice
inside a sheen of strife
her malice
her mind
full of violence
teeth keen
iced tines
for slicing
biting
poisoning
purposefully tearing
the soul from the meat
the sweet
from the soft
until nothing remains
until nothing stirs
but spite
spit
in the ice.
- - -
I tend roses and write about the past.
Sunday, June 3, 2018
Respite
Contributor: Jane Blanchard
- -
Whenever I decide to leave
The suite for just a bit,
My ever-loving better half
Declines to have a fit.
He graciously bids me farewell
Before or after noon,
And I interpret “take your time”
As “don’t come back too soon.”
- - -
Jane Blanchard lives and writes in Georgia. Her first collection, Unloosed, and her second, Tides & Currents, are both available from Kelsay Books.
- -
Whenever I decide to leave
The suite for just a bit,
My ever-loving better half
Declines to have a fit.
He graciously bids me farewell
Before or after noon,
And I interpret “take your time”
As “don’t come back too soon.”
- - -
Jane Blanchard lives and writes in Georgia. Her first collection, Unloosed, and her second, Tides & Currents, are both available from Kelsay Books.
Saturday, June 2, 2018
My 57 Pork Pie Hat
Contributor: Michael Kagan
- -
Pork pie hats on brooding guys
standing tall with shiny brims,
Jazz found my ears, music so cool
my hunger ate the notes as they floated out one LP after another,
Vinyl fed the bones of my heart
until the grooves collapsed
sapphire needles worn to the nub,
alas the miracle of real connection
smitten bitten in little dives and joints
nothing said the same way twice
the mystery of this language
wordless expression a trillion colors
the pure breath of God's lungs
fire in the belly
sexy music in the veins
a touch of dirt in the love,
beautiful minds search for meaning
lost in the moment
working it out
under stylish pork pie hats.
- - -
Mike is jazz musician, discovered his passion for poetry a few years back...
he's been published on Leaves of Ink, Indiana voice journal The poet Community...etc
- -
Pork pie hats on brooding guys
standing tall with shiny brims,
Jazz found my ears, music so cool
my hunger ate the notes as they floated out one LP after another,
Vinyl fed the bones of my heart
until the grooves collapsed
sapphire needles worn to the nub,
alas the miracle of real connection
smitten bitten in little dives and joints
nothing said the same way twice
the mystery of this language
wordless expression a trillion colors
the pure breath of God's lungs
fire in the belly
sexy music in the veins
a touch of dirt in the love,
beautiful minds search for meaning
lost in the moment
working it out
under stylish pork pie hats.
- - -
Mike is jazz musician, discovered his passion for poetry a few years back...
he's been published on Leaves of Ink, Indiana voice journal The poet Community...etc
Friday, June 1, 2018
Go Softly
Contributor: Susie Sweetland Garay
- -
We all expand and retract
with the seasons
and today
on this first day of summer
I am expanding.
We shed skin like snakes and become tender,
until time passes and it builds up again,
but I want to stay tender.
The answer
to most any question
is practice,
and here too I think
it is the answer.
I am defined by motherhood
but am unsure what the consequences will be.
Perhaps too much softness.
We named our cat
after the most flawed
character in a favorite show
and now every time we say
his name in love or anger
we are reminded of
his namesake
and where his
softness took him.
- - -
Born and raised in Portland Oregon, Susan Sweetland Garay currently lives in the Willamette Valley with her husband and daughter where she works in the vineyard industry. Her first full length poetry collection, Approximate Tuesday, was published in 2013 and she was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2014. Her second collection, Strange Beauty from Aldrich Press, was published in 2015.
- -
We all expand and retract
with the seasons
and today
on this first day of summer
I am expanding.
We shed skin like snakes and become tender,
until time passes and it builds up again,
but I want to stay tender.
The answer
to most any question
is practice,
and here too I think
it is the answer.
I am defined by motherhood
but am unsure what the consequences will be.
Perhaps too much softness.
We named our cat
after the most flawed
character in a favorite show
and now every time we say
his name in love or anger
we are reminded of
his namesake
and where his
softness took him.
- - -
Born and raised in Portland Oregon, Susan Sweetland Garay currently lives in the Willamette Valley with her husband and daughter where she works in the vineyard industry. Her first full length poetry collection, Approximate Tuesday, was published in 2013 and she was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2014. Her second collection, Strange Beauty from Aldrich Press, was published in 2015.