By: Alexandra Dreyzin Fingerprints They appeared, first innocuous, disruptingthe dust on my nightstand, a few scattered over a rocking chair,a reminder that I should clean more, do more,better again and again. But with the spring days longer, they have grown…
By: LC Gutierrez THE MARATHONER Noone beats a man who runs that peacefully.Eyes not even human while he prepares.No stress, no cockiness. The external factorsare sprawled about him. They stretch and breathe deeply,all catch themselves eyeing him for a moment.For…
By: Maria Schiza Orange peels on the heater, their smell spilled into the room. The sofas worn in. Photographs on the walls, proud, taking up space. Photographs on the shelves, in front of books or tugged in between pages, sentimental…
By: H.L. Dowless Tears are rolling down my face,I simply don’t know what to do,My mind grasps not time nor space,Since I have no choice but to live without you. I well remember our walks through the park,I savor our…
By: Stephen Kingsnorth Ilkley Crags Far from south western sibling torsthese stubby crags emerge from peat,amongst scrag season’s heather, gorse;but mother loved these Yorkshire moorsso different from her Exmoor stags.Yarn Dunster lass, strode tussocks, tufts,the billowed gale, church choir let…
By: Anindita Sarkar Runaway Peacock Like caged birds who shun flightI was oblivious to the wild,until the blue hills beaconed.Through telepathic podcastssanctioned by the rainI confessed to my loverabout my expatriate state.A mob of misfitstheir throats aflame with litany of…
By: Cynthia Pitman “When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?”“When the hurly-burly’s done,When the battle’s lost and won.” – Witches, Macbeth, by William Shakespeare i. Conflict “Conflict: Two forces working against one another.” But that’s…
By: Aneek Chatterjee Hide & Seek I play hide & seekwith you, myself.SometimesI do murmur lost songs, favoritepoems, surreal images & when I wake up& land in my swanky office,a surreal painting adornsthe wooden wallI’ve kept a few books of…
By Ajay R. Sawant YOU ARE THE PAINTER OF THE WORLD you are the morning mista stargazer on dayyou ask me to walk on the sidewalk—and walk with me too you are the eternal lier —the hope bearer of allthe…
By Ida Prose OBSERVER Seeing through the foggy lens, a glimpseof the world, formerly unnoticedBarren branches and tall trees stoodCuriously puzzled,No one ventured out anymore, no oneglided through the bushesWho then saw the tree and branches?Yet the branches blushed,Being observed…