By: Jim Bates Hot September dayDry grass crinkling underfootThirsty squirrel pants. Equinox arrivesEqual hours day and nightNature’s symmetry. Autumn breeze goes stillThirsty leaves hang crispilyDry air feels languid. Geese flying honkingSwallows amass on taut wiresSense of change looming.
By: Arvilla Fee Once Around the Block Lenny’s eyes sag, his chin sags;he’s just one sad sack of bonesbound to a wheelchair.Bored—bordering on depression.No family. No visitors. Stuck.Come on, Lenny, I say.He lifts bushy gray eyebrows,casting me a look of…
By: James Aitchison Weak shouldersdo not have to bearenormous anguish.Soft words,impervious to grief,await in the bastionof the soul.Let no mangrovel for answers.The soul containsthe means to gentlylight your path.
By: Pawel Markiewicz 1961 – the wall has been builtonce sixty-one stars glowed over the native landthe East Germany rife with butterflies sparkled in the nightthe Western Germany full of west wood garlics glinted in the eveningthe fall of the…
By: Carl Papa Palmer So I had him murdered, Papa.Who? Who’d you have murdered?Humpty Dumpty, in my story.What story? What’s this all about? It’s about my English Lit assignment,the extra-credit over-the-summerre-write of a famous nursery rhyme.This was the shortest one…
By: Bruce Levine Monday morningThe work week begins The last of September Anticipating fall October beginnings Winking an eye Harvests and beer fests Soon pumpkin pie The year winding down Another one gone Ice cream and candles Times Square alive…
By: Bruce Levine Ideologic Dogma Ideologic dogmaTyped into a teleprompterRegurgitated by pundits Woven into conversations Taken as gospel according to the oracle of the day As long as it fits within the ideology Fiction parading as fact Reflected in the…
By: James Aitchison As the tree needstime to grow, sotoo the soul.Unhurried wisdom,stepping softly,seeking the infinite.Nothing springs fromignorance;lives scattered tothe winds have noroots.In quiet soil,the soul flourishes.
By: Simon Heathcote Catholic Cuts in the Schism Thick black hair sashaying in clumpslike gold leaf bestowed on Toni’sSmall Heath shop — I was the grandsonof the local vicar who smiled and waveddown the High Street like reruns of a papal visit — and…
By: John Ziegler Mulberries I remember orchids through the windowof a solarium’s silver glass, on Ruben Patterson’s property, his estate, with its mammoth mansion, with its broad veranda and 4 car garage, his cream – and – gold Stutz Bearcat….