By: Emalisa Rose Tears on the tumbleweeds Under the cluster of cloudstears on the tumbleweedscradle your casket, withthe heart of the rain playingredemption for both of us –two stubborn sistersforsaken of chance to exchange“I forgive you’s.” ### With winter wings…

By: Michael Gigandet Martin used his elbows and hips to work his way to the end of the line of 4th graders spread across the front of the classroom. At least he could delay the humiliation coming to him which…

By: Jim Bates After the snowstormWinter’s soft gentle beautySnow on evergreens. At the skating rinkHappy folks spin and swirlA winter ballet. Big cold moon risingMoonlight streaming brilliantlyIcy land sparkling. Bright morning sunBirds flit through snow covered treesSinging merrily.

By: Bruce Levine A blank sheet of music paperGroups of five lines and four spacesBlack dots and circles floating in the airFloating in space and yet to be foundTaking place in time rather than spaceElusive fragments of soundWaiting to be…

By: Dhruba Jyoti Gogoi (Morning)Let the lines of palm be kept asideDon’t have wings to flyEven if a new set is madeIt is not Saturn’s Titan!!! (Destruction)Is the time without you like Achilles’ heel…?And being convicted by your complaints,I dream…

By: Harvey Huddleston When people drink too much they sometimes think they see things clearly when they don’t.  Then when they stop drinking they might be able to see those things they were previously blind to.  By “blind to” I…

By: JD DeHart Symbolism No, it does not matter which colorof undershirt I put on today. It’s nota grand symbol of what is to come. A shirt is a shirt, just like a stepon a crackis just a step –…

In a frank interview with Onkar Sharma of Literary Yard, Bruce Levine discusses his background as an author, poet and composer. He speaks openly about his personal life and how it impacts his writing. Watch the full interview at the…

By: Kindaka Jamal Sanders TIME PASSES THE TUMBLEWEED Time passes the tumbleweedAnd lightning strikes the Noble FirThat once loomed large in goat marshThe noble part of what we were. But entombed it is in the way that we wereThe prototype…

By: Ruth Deming O, Beatricee! The day has finally arrived. We knew it was coming, your battle with multiple myeloma.   At first, at our weekly meetings of “The Beehive,” named for you and your nearly inexhaustible knowledge of pollinators…