By: Joseph Hope Mystery The mystery of living takes a Sharp jab at our wits Loosly we hang all our lifes, trying to Learn how to live And at the end, like in the Beginning we still don’t have a…
By: Aruna Subramanian 1Time is THE best friendone could chance upon.It’d peel off certain masksto save you from fallinginto the trap of illusion.Befriend time!! 2.Our planet’s becomethan abode of walking machines.Synthetics rule over nature.Ballooning expectationsblowing away relations.Humane heartssuffocate to breathamidst…
By: Dave Whippman AFTER THE SIEGE According to the poetsThis is how it ended: the tall towersstill ablaze, me struggling in my husband’s armsas he dragged me to the waiting galleys.I yearned, they say,to join my love among the dead,…
By: Colin James I’m leaning against a flagpole.It’s moving a bit in the windenough for prophesies of nauseawithout being political,besides the obvious bias.Flag not currently flying,the rope is clanging, echoingfrom the poles hollow center.I’m not thin enough to be inconspicuous.Some…
By: JayM Ode To Passion My worst arguments are with my own mind,To pave the way for my best words for you;Words of enchantment give themselves up,To that your beauty creates, to you. Indelible prints of ardour, upon my mind,A…
By: Stephen Kingsnorth Sanga Wrap, face, skin reflecting pile pineapples,toothy sarong fruit vendorssentry corners, slow spiral screwto mountains drag-drawn from flatland haze.Lushed tier paddies, suspended tanks,glitter dun-lime battle grounds,side-step from trunked trunk haulers,gross chink-link necklaces,chained to logs and bored mahouts;noising…
By: Brian Rihlmann WRONG I sit with the sun at my backand stare at my shadowits hair movesits shoulders rise and fallafter awhile the thought enters—the shadow’s not meany more than the sun is a while longerand the sun disappearsbehind…
By: J.K.Durick Spine – Xray ### Bookmark by Gavin a grandnephew once removedis gone but this gift,given I don’t remember when,remains. His name written in childish lettersand some coloring are all that’s leftof the moment – it marks his placemy…
By: Theresa C. Gaynord RED CINNABAR Discard my clothes, my glamorous spoilsand fate me before the dispossessedfar removed from my gowns of tulle andspangles. Walk me toward the peak of the mountain,strip me of my name as I watch the…
By: Don Thompson Pioneer Cemetery These tottering gravestones remainunexpectedly whiteafter all sorts of weather—unlike the bones buried here.They’re gray going black by now,blotched with off-greenlike moss on the wooden markersworn nameless years ago. ** Inflation Spendthrift wind strips the trees,scattering…