By: Claudia Lopez Where once embroiled in a cool embrace,You stand away, the picture of disgrace:Behind, a fallen fruit, a rotten pair,Where once was love, dark hatred fills the air.How could she leave you playing on your own?The monkey bars…
By: Cynthia Pitman The Art of Immortality La Roche-Cotard Cave in Franceand Ardales Cave in Spain,inhabited by Neanderthalsat least 60 millennia ago,have revealed on their wallsexpressions of art.Straight and curving flutingsmade by fingertips dragged through clayand crowds of handprints stenciledwith…
By: Byron Beynon. AFRICAN DAISIES The family who’d movednext to my father’s houseasked the name of the flowersthat grew outside his porch.“African Daisies”, he said.Unfolding with the sunthey open like a greeting,an innocent warmtha remedy of colourswhich smileeach one a…
By: James Aitchison When daylight sets,grief shrinks the strongest.We who survive walk innights darker now,and shadows corruptthe sunlight.We grieve another’ssparse moment of existence,their speck of sand in time,and when the blows and pain are over,a soul that seeks no morewill…
By: Steven Bruce The Miracle on Mundane Street The morning cameand didn’t try to flog mea miracle. The coffee tasted like coffee,the path beside the river was dry,and the crowsconducted their usualcrooked business. Nothing historic happened. The world offeredan empty…
By: Rahoz Shwan Pick up your bag, Khalil; life allows no time to rest! No longer on summer mornings, As in my childhood days upon waking, do I step into the courtyard to listen to the melodies of the doves;…
By: Jim Bates Awesome bright wonderJupiter and Venus shineLighting the deep night. Summertime gardenFlowers so bright and cheerfulRefreshing the soul. Big Bluestem prairieWind racing through wildflowersSea of grass flowing. Early morning sunCasting golden glowing lightDewy grass sparkles. Fresh corn-on-the-cobSweet golden…
By: Dan Bavister Dreaming the Wreck She worries not that the water mayReflect her gaze – she only caresFor the deep cool of swaying water weeds,Of shells all marbled in the coursing flow,The many gardens of the tide pools. A…
By: James Aitchison (untitled) dipping his pen in mother’s milkthe baby wrote about stormy heavensand a weasel in a pieabout pink remembered hillsfinite and romanticwithout periphrases or inversionsuntil he lost every scrap of sincerityand the pathos of objectsa mystic babythe…
By: Selena The Message I Never Sent I open your nameand let it stay unspoken.The cursor waits like it knows me,patient with everything I avoid.Every sentence I try to buildcollapses before becoming real.So I leave it unfinished,a silence shaped like…