By: KJ Hannah Greenberg To Gank In international forums, “thievery’s” not defined by lovely scapes or glistening gels.“Honesty’s” separated from “fraudulence” by reticulating deeds and feckless words.Agonal breathing’s never evidenced lagabouts, idlers, shiftless souls as “worthless.”At times, folks may be…
By Nicola Vallera I flatten my potato nose against the cold glass. The old lady across the street stands like a stone figure, her piercing gaze drilling into me like she can see through my soul. A chill runs down…
By Onkar Sharma I am deeply humbled and grateful for the heartfelt review of my poetry collection, “Songs of Suicide,” written by John Potter in the esteemed Hooghly Review. Addressing the sensitive and poignant themes of suicide and depression, I…
By: John Ziegler Luther Luther was a distant father,away in his own deep music. He spoke of his own fatherfitted in a soft, white shirt, trimmed nails,smooth palms of a baker,though he was not a baker. He owned a small…
By: Duane L Herrmann Troy Rubin, sat at his desk quietly working in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the office: phones ringing, people carrying papers and files back and forth and computers beeping once in a…
By: Puneet Kumar My Tongue My tongue hasIts own mindIt knows wellWhere it wants to go I need not to worryIn which cornerOr in the sidesIt wants to explore I just let it doAll that it wantsAnd the way it…
By: James Aitchison Not a new opioid, not a new antidepressant, not a variant of diazepam or citalopram, ataraxia can certainly be prescribed for today’s world, offering a life free of fear and worry. Ataraxia lies at the heart of…
By: Paweł Markiewicz The new-Celtic elegy according to Mr. Paweł Markiewicz I lost the cute hedgehog in last summer.I can just only dream overnight – mourn.The amaranthine body lay on grass.Moreover, it was dark time of Blue Hours. My life…
By: Kindaka Sanders Tried Again I was just thinking about joy.And you were right.Because he gave it to you, I thinkHe is a better man for you than me.That you were scared of losing him,And you never felt that way…
By: Leigh-Anne Burley A Weary Waiter Pushes Her Body Forward A weary single-parent waiterpushes her body forwardlike a cart laden withtable linens and wares. She tip-toes on a high wirewithout a safety net tobalance bills and schedules. Impatient diners with…