By: Mary Bone Sandhill Turtles One by one, baby turtlesgo down a winding path.The sandhill was always a place of safety.The shells will be their nightly home,a protection from the elements. ### Hatchlings Our mother hoversover us with juicy worms,beaks…
By: H.L. Dowless Today the woman in white will walk out to Heart Heat bridge.Nobody anywhere knows her true nameor what she is intending to do by sauntering out to the edge.Is she searching for a long lost ghost?Does some…
By: Daniel de Culla -Whe’re you going, Poet? -With this bike that’ s going nowhere, I’m going to take a walk through the streets of Ampuriabrava, Girona, where I’m spending a few days and, if its tires aren’t punctured, I’lll…
By: Albi James grace a restaurant deck, by the harbourin breezy sunshine – my cousin, a ministerspeaks of churches brunch arrived, she bows her headsilent in prayer I feel left out, as if two friendsare sharing a secret – one…
By: J.K. Durick You ask how often I walk the dog –well, after lunch, after our naps, he’sthere waiting, wagging, making thathumming noise he uses when he’sanxious I’ll forget, get in the car andbe gone without the expected walkthat fits…
By: Chandra Shekhar Dubey Spring has fallenthe air bounces with fluorescentwaves intoxicating the night.I sit alone on the rocktasting the stings of starry spikesthe murmurs of trees get lostin the heat of whistling wind.I taste love bitteradding pepper to memories.A…
By: Riddhi Bhattacharya A sunshine poured in and dust crawls around,My frail ears pick up the bark of a distant hound,One by one the casements catch,The suns beams beneath the golden thatch. From there cosy abodes the sparkly eyes peep,Some…
By: Alan Cohen Solitude Of course not all sunlit days are yellowI have this one to myselfChimes, garden, goldfinchBright verandaEtched, lacy shadows of a wrought-iron, outdoor tableMaple-stained cedar benchRestless lakewater, nimble, sparkling I withdrawInto the courtyardWhere the stone floor is…
By: A Whittenberg Our Plight In some countries,Poets are persecuted: jailed,Beaten, even hungIn America, they have it harderHere, we ignore them. ### So They Say… We’re all in this togethersincewe’re all in this togetheruntilwe’re all not in this togetherbecause afterwe’re…
By Ian Fletcher She wakes with a slight hangoverbut nothing that the first fat jointof the day won’t promptly dispelher self-abused body long inured todaily doses of dope and booze.She looks at the peeling wallpaperand at the nicotine-stained ceilingcontemplating another…