By: Jim Bates Awesome bright wonderJupiter and Venus shineLighting the deep night. Summertime gardenFlowers so bright and cheerfulRefreshing the soul. Big Bluestem prairieWind racing through wildflowersSea of grass flowing. Early morning sunCasting golden glowing lightDewy grass sparkles. Fresh corn-on-the-cobSweet golden…
By: Dan Bavister Dreaming the Wreck She worries not that the water mayReflect her gaze – she only caresFor the deep cool of swaying water weeds,Of shells all marbled in the coursing flow,The many gardens of the tide pools. A…
By: James Aitchison (untitled) dipping his pen in mother’s milkthe baby wrote about stormy heavensand a weasel in a pieabout pink remembered hillsfinite and romanticwithout periphrases or inversionsuntil he lost every scrap of sincerityand the pathos of objectsa mystic babythe…
By: Selena The Message I Never Sent I open your nameand let it stay unspoken.The cursor waits like it knows me,patient with everything I avoid.Every sentence I try to buildcollapses before becoming real.So I leave it unfinished,a silence shaped like…
By: James L Johnson Pedaling non-stop since nine this morninglunch on a rocky shorea shallow rocky section of the Lehigh Riverwhere a mile norththe Aquashicola Creekoffers its tribute to the greater flow. I dip my cloth headband in cold water,…
By: Paul Dickey Near the Creek / Childhood Sweethearts /The Poem that Made No Sense (I am just saying some words, and all of a sudden I amwriting this poem or starting up a new conversationyou know what it is…
By: Zunaira Rehman Identity is not what they call youit is what you answer to when no one is watching,it is not the version of youthat survives other people’s expectations.It is the versionthat exists when approval is no longer required….
By: Arvilla Fee This Land I know this land like the back of my handevery knobby knuckle that dips and swayslike hump-backed camels on the high ridge.I know brambly bushes thick with berriesthat stain my lips and fingers peacock-bluein the…
By: Goutam Roy Grant me another life, Oh God, a life beyond this one,where I may meet my beloved again and tell the unfinished tale—a tale of love, a tale of pain, born within a darkened room,where straw became my…
By: Pramod Rastogi A lover of nature and its shifting shades,I climb the winding heights,Pausing now and thenTo speak with the mountains,Their faces clean and austereAs I rise along their slopes. They listen without judgment,Sinking to the roots of my…