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…
By: Stephen Kingsnorth Daily Scrip It’s pit against mind behind screen.And is it evens, you can win?Addictive, just one dose a day.Why is it, Wordle, reaches parts?If logic leads your disciplines,your bell rung lexicography,your mind is scrabbled, words approved,or you’re…
By: Enrico Barigazzi. The troubadours They were skirmishing with ink and letterscomposing stanzas putting together lineswhile crowned heads and princesses were dancingin their courts full of lights and shines they’ve passed through the pages of historychanting struggles and deeds of…
By: Thomas Doerksen Sitting in the blue snow Hoods of geese lurk in the river’s wardrobe.The winter branches comb the night wind, its low moaning sifts away the grit of my distraughtthat clogged in the day’s flow. In the twilight…
By: Ankita Roy Choudhury Memory clouds watchus counting sand onbeaches. They toosearching for you, silverlinings. I believe, a bodyfor two. Nani , didn’t knowyou were blind to sound,deaf to light. You knewthe dark in me blanketsyour soul like the mothers,mothers…
By: April Mae M. Berza Dale As the Moon’s Embrace Dale is the sweetest metaphora poet like me could never fathomsince metaphors could no longer encapsulate the nuances of the moonas well as the stars kissing Dale’s chest.I wonder why…