By: James Aitchison (A reflection on the Bondi Massacre,Sydney, 14 December 2025) It waits outside your door.Let hate in and it spreads itstendrils, reaching intoevery word you speak,into every thought you have.Like a snake, hate spreadsits venom with skill,striking down…
By: Benjamin Thorne In Silence (Quaker Worship) In the silence of the Meeting,a settled stillness falls;push aside the sounds of shifts in seating;heed your leading when it calls.Sink into that deeper feelingof solitude and unity,thresh over those thoughts wheelingthat threaten…
By: James Aitchison (Cimetière du Père Lachaise) Come climb the hills and wander throughthis labyrinth of death. Alleyways of tombs,forbidding mausoleums, tenements of the dead,Molière, Gertrude Stein, graves nudging graves,Chopin, Bizet, Edith Piaf, wedged like sardines,the poplars reaching the sky…
By: Jim Bates After the snowstormWinter’s soft gentle beauty…Snow on evergreens. At the skating rinkHappy folks spin and swirlA winter ballet. Sunlit snow fallingTiny flakes frosting the groundSparkling and gleaming. Clear crisp winter nightCrescent moon shining brightlyStars igniting dreams.
By: Brent Yergensen Young, hopeful—gun unneededPlayed the role of sheriff, newspaper and coffee for styleMost his career, empty of worryBut now burdened, chasing a killer’s hurry Aging and wondering, why men so violent?Became a voiceover, of control less certain‘Take evil’s…
By: Pramod Rastogi Echoes of Yesterday, Promises of Tomorrow As Santa glides inOn his reindeer chariot,Millions of hearts swell with joy,A collective cheer reverberatesAcross the vast expanse of the world.The year now nearing its twilight hourClings gently to its fleeting…
By: James Aitchison (a dada pantoum) tristan tzara cut words from a newspaperdid he use a compass when he explored nothingnesspoems don’t need to have meaning he saidas he shuffled words in a paper bag did he use a compass…
By: Deen Sayeedin All the birds rest on one branch,in the soft light of joy,bringing little messages of happiness. They share their glow,their songs touch other souls—in the warmth of their patron’s love,they live, together, alive. They are not fireflies,but…
By: Duane L Herrmann MY SOUL CRIES On that trueand radiant morn,that momentof inception,I sobbed –knowingseparationwas approachingand I would forgetour oneness,only a longingfor unionwould remain.Agony. Agony!How could I endureseparationuntil Eternity?I still cry. NATURE TAKES ITS OWN Silence of the season:birds…
By: Paul Dickey Greed and Hate (Apology to Robert Frost) Some say that Trump will end in greed;Some say in hate.From what we’ve tasted his ego’s needI hold with those who favor greed.But if he runs again a candidate,I think…