I am different from you as chalk is from cheese Accept… I cannot be you I think differently process information at different speeds adding filters in-between applying logic Stop trying to make me your clone Love doesn’t mean I agree with you whole Copyright © 2024 Snigdha Agrawal. All rights reserved.
this forlorn looking guy around twenty, steps in front of me and says, “Please, man, help me out. I can’t stay here any longer. This place is too much for me. I need to get home but I don’t have enough money. Can you just help me out with a few dollars?” Checking him out… Read More “WALKING ON HAIGHT STREET” by Jeffrey Zable
The snow that never falls cannot assuage The sorrow of the autumn’s grim defeat There is no balm For open wounds No gilded cup To slake the dying season’s thirst No whispered words to quell the fear Of failing heart Forsaken soul Abandoned hope There is no honor in autumn’s demise In absence of the… Read More “The Snow That Never Falls” by Michael L. Utley
I look at this guy in the corner, two pillows, a blanket, his paws rub his eyes, a short stretch. Eyes half shut he looks my way. My all, my one and only, was filthy, living by a dumpster behind a restaurant the night he waddled toward the door I’d opened and rescued me. Copyright… Read More “My Pet” by Pete Mladinic
There is a subtle dysphoria that lingers with sediment along the walls in veins. I’ve nothing left from one moment to the next. I might be driving a certain street – a week ago, I drove down Cherry Alley. Seeing the street sign reminds me of all those nights at your house – the bathtub… Read More “flooding” by Melissa Lemay
So many dead people caught in the crossfire created by the money men, the arms traders, the super ego-ed politicians. They lie dead where they fell. Flesh and blood transformed to fertiliser to nurture the seeds and grow the crops, in a future they will not see. Their bones decaying to dust to form the… Read More “Washed Up” by Lynn White
AT SAFEWAY about an hour ago, I was standing in front of the delicatessen waiting for someone to help me when a woman came up alongside of me with a beautiful dog on a leach. Looking into the dog’s eyes I said to him, “How are you doing buddy?” Lowering his head, he immediately moved… Read More Two Dog Poems by Jeffrey Zable
My uncle barged into my bedroom too early on a Saturday morning, waving a sheet of paper. “What is this?” he demanded. “Who is this Richard —-?” Omg. Dicky. I had hit him with my car, while playing chicken in the High school parking lot. He had gone onto the hood, into the windshield, and… Read More “Dicky” by Wayne F Burke
for years and years and more i simply can’t fall asleep at night knowing my life is not mine to keep what others may think of as a horrible nightmare came to me as a gruesome reality that can’t be undone. i may have the most charming smile shining upon my be dimpled face only… Read More “When Truth is Hidden Reality Becomes Blurry” by Michelle Ayon Navajas
Painting provided by the John RC Potter Empty Heart To say I miss you says almost nothing at all, for my heart beats within this empty space, and even when I close my eyes I see yours: those inky pools of black within that face. Red… You drew me in with those eyes of the… Read More Red Sky At Morning: Two Poems by John RC Potter
Green ribbons of the Colorado River Wrap gracefully around striated walls Rising powerfully to the limitless sky. How long did it take that mighty river To carve this sunken canyon from primordial rock? Mother Nature’s sculptor, Strong and sparkling as a diamond, Erodes away the soil one particle at a time. Standing on the edge… Read More “Grand Canyon” by Dawn Pisturino
I still remember your name I ain’t forgot the papercut Yellow mellow; yellow lane Iodine on bloody clots You don’t remember how tamed I was; did you forget? Yellow meek; yellow hydrant You reached the end of yellow stop Copyright © 2024 Myriam DesCendres. All rights reserved.
A demanding cry that ends in shriek is the first known call of love a knowing seeking satisfaction at the heaving breast the nipple best. And the mother gives like Eve powerless to resist ancient need that cannot rest a soul that will recycle birthing futures. From the seed of Adam’s Eden naked undefiled a… Read More “The Seed of Adam’s Eden” by Tony Ashenden
Dust mopping is a skill under the chairs and desks and all around an education, a talent, a career nice a clean the handle of it. Copyright © 2024 Danny P. Barbare. All rights reserved.
i am a lonesome mortal on earth yet to experience death. if death comes to visit me i am ready for i have lived my life to the fullest. i have made the most notable most memorable trail on earth. yes, i did even if life was full of unwarranted tribulations. i fought the hardest… Read More “Death” by Michelle Ayon Navajas
I told you I wanted to get to know you better Before taking the Next Big Step, But that wasn’t good enough for you, And you tried to force me into sex With psychological cruelty And emotional manipulation That escalated into verbal barbs And a permanent split. I got to know you all right, But… Read More “The Next Big Step” by Dawn Pisturino
Put a warm glow on the word all you like. Light it with candles, polish it until you can see yourself the way you were then. Leash it, pet it, let yourself think it tamed because it no longer bites quite so often or nearly so deeply, and gives you big “Sorry…” eyes as you’re… Read More “Nostalgia” by Steve Brisendine
Spanish moss, dearest love, and to the arbitrary wishes made under lamppost saddest songs Green Street; and Spanish moss “De la rue verte” and to the solace of whichever lay under grey skies eyes “De la rue verte” mon ange, et volent, volent! les filles de l’air!! Copyright © 2024 Myriam DesCendres. All rights reserved.
From the time my parents started their seven-years-long divorce, my Nana came to live with us, my mom had more frequent glasses of wine, my sister went to visit my dad from time to time, and we all sat down to watch all iterations of Law and Order and The West Wing. We’d use commercial… Read More “Streaming Reruns” by CLS Sandoval
Time brokers these intentions of mine, some become deeds and some scatter like seed in the Wind from above. My Instrument hand is a forge that you cause, heating, hammering a die: Casting Love. Deeds are the doings of my better-born seeds some grow like trees and some more gentle perfume places of privacy. My… Read More “Instrument Being” by Tony Ashenden
Teacups seldom discuss what happened to the cat. Or who they were before they were made into what you know them to be. Yet, you assume they are obligated to tell their stories, don’t you? But stories don’t exist outside your feeble mind. Or do they? Perhaps they are simply the illusions, a meaningless collection… Read More “Blame the Artist” by Kelly Moyer
Because in the end, child, everyone is a mixed bag. I had the great good fortune of being disemboweled by an angel wielding a flaming sword, so see the world different than before. It was in the back room of a quaint little butcher shop. At first, I thought I had the place to myself:… Read More “Butcher Shop of Wild Forgiveness” by Lyndi Waters
The house was her domain. Antique teacups, Wyeth prints, Christina’s World hung over the sofa, Stone Fence nearby, china plates, cut glass, crystal glinting in sunlight; brilliant red and blues underfoot, oriental rug I didn’t dare walk on. The cellar was his. Maps of the world taped everywhere over cellar walls hid cold concrete, lovingly… Read More “World Atlas” by Julie A. Dickson
He hears the wallpapers. By third time he knows to diagnose his woe even before he hears their fading hum, peeling off noise. He will sleep all day, his eyes open, shirt sweaty, a fly on his index, saliva-wet pillowcase. He will sit on the stairs, so still that sparrows will cease to see him.… Read More “When You Hear the Wallpapers” by Kushal Poddar
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