By: Milt Montague Civilization The South Pacific is littered with islands like specks of earths floating in a pool dots of sand on blue more like mountain tops piercing the clouds people have lived there for untold generations happily surviving…
By: Christina B. Barrick Reflections on Aging I yearn for the time of youth— when dreams portent of things to be, wishes dance to the heavens, and the celestial skies answer. . . “Yes”. But as the seasons age, some…
By mbThewriter She can’t stand sexism but she fell in love with men who wear capes to sleep and call themselves feminists. Love is her middle name, but she won’t bite into the candy she receives from a man who…
By: Ute Carson Stars in the Night I remember many delights. Riding my mare bareback across a meadow. My naked toes brushing the tips of dew-moistened grass. Waking up in my lover’s arms, feeling my heart race. Cradling our baby,…
By Mickey Kulp The bird on the wire The bird on the wire watches me trapped in traffic, caged, going nowhere. I pound the steering wheel, furious at the delay. The bird on the wire has a full belly for…
By William T. Hathaway “Obey me or die!” the orange-haired man threatens the world. “My drones know you’re home, and my missiles don’t miss. I’m Commander in Chief, CinC for short. I’ll sink you into the sea, fry you crisp,…
By: Channie Greenberg Daffodil Cream or gold vanity, expressed during fleeting weeks of wet and sun, You couldn’t work past life’s expectations when your ephemeral nature Limited your seasons. Hence, higgledy-piggledy, you grew on hillsides, In meadows, in middens’ depths,…
By: Jay M Peace A Chance: Hit by wild winds in a forest, Oh, perfidious dance, Of a dark moon, In an unfathomable trance. No speechless birds we, Nor with broken wings, Nay, mirthless in sorrow, In flight, our proud…
By: Ian Fletcher Closing Time He died quite suddenly one winter’s morning a man not in his prime yet taken before his time in an unexpected demise. After the funeral in the rain we gather at his local haunt to…
By: Michael Lee Johnson Cracker Jack Box Poem I don’t wear my pocket watch anymoreit reminds me of my age, 73, soon more,outdated gadget, time hanging wheremoving parts below don’t belong nor work anymore.I don’t like to think about endings….