By: David Patten Amaya can’t suppress a wry smile. An item of gossip has reached her. It seems there are those intent on labeling her a witch. Such an archaic term, unused for centuries, its connotation pejorative. Amaya ponders that…
By: KJ Hannah Greenberg Storm A cyclone surged from deep in my soulMoving low, goallessly over mountainsAthward valleys, odd terrain, it yieldedNot squall, degree, measure of damage. Later, aspiration’s flowers, akin to prior,Hardened stones, sprouted flames uponSand carpets, boasted red-orange…
By: Karen E. Osborne Lucy’s breathing slowed. Mack’s Smith and Wesson lay on her lap. She slid moist fingertips along the barrel, sending tingles and ripples up her right arm. Dawn broke. Fog hugged the hills. Streaks of pinks and…
By: Allan Lake Before dawn, birds utter crazy praisesto their sun god. They wake me,make me recall that circle of downyfeathers left in courtyard yesterday.Silenced. A soft scene to give pause. Abandoning down-filled pillow I pivot,could never fly, into slippers,…
By: Grant Guy poem flysoarwalkfly sit fly fly nekrasov *** poem words words under attack get yours while they last words wordswords *** poem it hurt my motherit made me laugh make the bed father broke wind *** poem himselfhimself…
By: Alan Berger The next thing you knowCould be the last thing you needSoCall an ambulanceOr let it bleed As dead leaf’s scatterI tryToSeparate the fear in my headFrom the heart of the matter Will the last thing I heardBe…
By: Puneet Kumar Kiss Me Like a Secret Fire Tonight just don’t leave meLet me go wildLet me go uncontrolledAnd breathe me into your ear I know it is not easy for youTo control and hold me tightBut tonight I…
By: Md. Saber -E- Montaha In the shadows of penumbra,Lies a world so dark and cold,Where nothingness reigns triumphant,And alienation takes its hold. The bleakness of this existence,Is felt by all who dwell within,A sense of emptiness and nothingness,As though…
By: Simon Heathcote We didn’t know what to do with the bread. Small fluted loaves, granite hard and seemingly made to fit inside a fist. ‘We could always throw them from our balcony,’ I surmised, at once imagining missiles — perhaps inspired…
By: Brian Michael Barbeito I lost my sweater. It was because I was helping people, some old folks who couldn’t carry their luggage. I couldn’t ‘not,’ help, seeing them struggling like that. I think I had put the sweater down…