By: donnarkevic Love Is Like a Black, Black Eye I let the coon dogs get outWhen his buddies arriveNo CrownJesus,I do not have a beard to pluckOwe three payments on his truckWhen I go to work, no one asksWhat the…
By: Stephen Kingsnorth A line of light at curtain side, above the sill, beside the wallaccompanies the morning call of hoover drone, push then retreat;and then Dad’s brushing, rhythmic, swish to polish shoes,I see him standing, newsprint spread on dining…
By: Stephen Kingsnorth David Frank Kingsnorth, 19 January 1946 – 23 June 1947The Happiest day of the year is June 23 according to a recent studycompleted by the Cardiff University in Wales It is his birthday, David Frank,seventy three, still…
By: Linda M Crate you didn’t deserve me all the oceansi cried for you,should’ve kept to myself;you didn’t deservethem— you only wanted my nakedbody and not my naked soul soyou didn’t deserve the firstof my flowers, either; but that was…
By: Charlie Brice Drinks with John Last night I had a drink in a pub with John Lennon.His hair was short and he wore those rimless glasseshe used to read the world. We had a nice time although he made…
By: Ken W. Simpson Potholes in the Ocean Infamous legacies from the rich and religiousbetrothed to blandishmentsBlessings from an invisible and mythical deityMan-made and threateningDangerous exhortations from political patriotsdonations happily acceptedPremonitions of revelations granted to heavenas fanciful stories and fablesThe…
By: John Grey COMMUTE An alarm clock rings on the side-table.My head rings in harmony. The cat jumps uponmy curled-up body,tears my dream to shreds. I flick on the radio for company.The station plays a songI’ve heard a thousand times…
By: afrophilus A Ghostly Voyage Sunk beneath gloomy shadows,With my radiant smile transformed into a sulking grimI took a journey down memory lane.How ghostly the chasm that separates now from before? Besetting me like a whirlwind,Drove me around like a…
By: Umar YB Not in tilling the land,in harrowing it or inmaking the ridge. Won’t be reluctantto irrigate the fields whenthe heavens are way stingy. Burdens me notto enrich the landwith dung and mulch. My willing hoewould weed the weedswhen…
By: Marc Carver As I went for my runI thought about sneaking out for my second outside of the day and walking in the thunder storms to come.They surely wouldand I may even get hit by lightning,I could wear one…