By Ruth Z. Deming He was late, very very late. I was frantic, but I had gotten a messagehe would soon be here. I was diverting myself by talking to a former boyfriend, RussellEisenman, now living in McAllen, Texas. The…
By Robert Isaacs Chiwala Witnessed Tales Beautiful dyes spreadIn twilight of sunsetStories I have experiencedColourful like a rainbow I had done this beforeI was naïveNo remedy in regretOnly pain but life goes on I had witnessed thisI was there that…
By: Frank H. Coons Failed Promises at the Reading They have come to hearwhat my companion and I have written.Twenty-five pairs of eyes who knowwe can’t tell them why they were born. And yet, there is a glimmer of expectation,that…
By: Jim Jas Destined Prisoner I’m an addict.I’m an addict to anxiety and stress.I’m an addict to laughter and dancing.I’m an addict. To you.To me.To everything in between. I’m just like everyone else.Just another human being stuck in uncertainty.Unaware of…
By: Ute Carson Bookends My book of life is wedged between bookends.I search for mories I want to keep.There is a chapter on my beginnings,several about my middle years,and one, in progress, anticipating the end.A few are marked “special,”many are…
By: Sheila E. Murphy abecedarian anthropology is not my majorbut has evolved to draw meclose by quiz prep to thedownside of experience aselevation, shaping shorthandfractals at first flea-sized then scaledgargantuan before summerheat expands to lay low towardimmediate centering that precludesjaywalking…
By Karen Lee Stradford The worldin a terrible state,peace, love and happiness is-lost. Like a bumpy, gravel road,life is difficult to maneuver,negative vibes are ahead. At war with ourselves,weapons are everywhereas hate speech surrounds. The pain is killing us,people don’t…
By: Jim Murdoch Lives, Lived and Unlived Poems don’t have meanings.They have vague possibilities and much the same can be said of life.We desperately seek the meaning of lifeall the while failing to fathom its potential. Answers, which many mistake…
By: Michael Gerard Rinse Steady handsFists pre-bloodied,Ready for the skirmishPromised by tomorrow. Trepidation calls outEagerly, contemptuously,Nibbling at the frontal lobe,Soon to be gnawing. The day comes,The room heats.Smog muddies the airas brutality steals our gazes. ### Not Just Nine to…
By: Tony Walt I am doing nothingat the pool todayclouds drowsing above someone is bombing citiessomeone is screaming in trafficsomeone is stuck in a broken elevator I scratch my belly andfeel the butter warmth ofthe sun on my shoulders I…