By: David Pike Skies Of Westerhope The dream was that the hay bales would take you,To go building skiesBeyond their fields in a black and white photographOf yourself with the lure of that distanceOver thereWhere you were told you could…
By: Michael Pollentine Teacher I didn’t steal the fucking cow.Is what I wish I had said.But,I was four years old.I was gentle.I was in shock.Shock, that I was not allowed to state my case,That my friend went and toldIgnoring my…
By: Madhalasa Iyer penny wise, pound foolish A penny somersaults,crash-dives over its head,and lands flat on my palm. Heads: remember.Tails: forget. Lincoln stares at me.Four days and Four years ago.remember.the penny decides my fate,and my palm secures it. ### penny…
By: Robert Lesher Last Day1You would talkAnd breathe out.I would breathe in,Let my wordsFall intoMy stomachAs both of usListenedTo the rain outside. On such daysThe cats cuddledOn the crochet rugIn front of the stove,And the recordsOn the turntablePlayedUp the hallFrom…
By: Ray Cicetti Goldfinch On the Audubon trailI saw the goldfinch, dead,his black winged body broken neara thicket of thistle and sparse grass.The olive brown female abovecalled out, to distract me.And I remembered another Julywhen I got the call about…
By: Gulshan Ara Honoring all the refugees around the world who are trying to escape man made terror, devastation, and starvation as the families divided & lost; In America, parents of children separated at border in Mexico under Donald Trump…
By: S.A. Red There was a house behind the hillThey say it was hauntedBy human beingsThey were alive unlike the childThe mother of two killedShe didn’t need to hideBecause no one knewWhat happened that nightI didn’t need a body to…
By: Richard LeDue Blunt Trauma The poems have gonequiet,like breathless swearingthat only exists in your headafter dropping a couch on your toe,but you still clear space in your living roombecause what are Saturday afternoons for?Finding crumbs everyone forgot about,only to…
By: Ian C. Smith Leave’s End Her, crushed to his brass buttons, khaki,a tableau I longed to see again.I stared at him, a stranger to me.Her crushed to his brass buttons, khaki,at our opened door where I could seethrough a…
By: Annapurna Sharma MY HEART TRAPPED… I mused –my story was no differentfrom the one my grandma croonedin my baby years,about the Mantrik and his hearttrapped in a wee bird,in a cage. When I first saw her –she made me…