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…
By: J. K. Durick Fading Into Sitting here like this, it’s the snap of timethe slap of time – minutes, hours, whole days,weeks fading into – into… Perhaps it’s time’s wing’d chariot, or just that’57 Plymouth my brother took me…
By: Carl Papa Palmer We raised rosesrelished by usand by the loads of lovely ladybugs,tended thymetrimmed by usand by our overabundance of bunnies,weaved wisteria for usand for the haven of one hundred bird nests. We transplanted tulipstreasured by usand by…
By: Michael C. Seeger Field Notes from a Far Place in the Mind Between vision’s palette and the processof its understanding and potential —an irrefutable question rattlesthe cold mind’s eye contravening everysteepled ritual from childhood forward —What replaces the irreplaceable?…
By: Jim Bates Frosty snowy moonThin clouds serenely driftingNight so softly veiled.
By: Pramod Rastogi Harvesting Happiness Clouds brim with ambitions insaneAnd top up their tank with nostalgiaReady to besiege the barren farmlands.Here tears spatter in smoky plumesAnd in dance pose is the paddy farm. The sun is large in the sparkling…
By: Ursula O’Reilly STORM Rain is pounding tearsOnto my windowpane.Oozing tears intoThe abandoned forest. Wind wails in the treetops.The forest sways and creaks,Anticipating the worst.Water soaks leaves and grass. The waterlogged earth groans.Stout storm clouds gather,Soon to burst.The storm will…
By: Ruvindra Sathsarani The darkness, singsInOccasional chimesof how you cannotcoincidewith the saving ofhis soul, and it isn’tsimpleto wave your hand inair and tellthe world howan explosionsomewhere elsewas staged, stampedand launched, in seconds,and reason outwhythere were few dropsof bloodon your palms….