By: J.K. Durick I picture the wineIn your handA glass enoughAs poems go byBi-lingual of courseThe neighbor’s dogKeeping watchWithout askingThe afternoon endsAnd like everywhereNight introduces itselfThe heat slowsThe day goesThis is the dreamYou had/havePlanned, playedA song you wroteWordsWithout the voiceOr…
By Tabussum Sumaiya “Knock Knock!” Who’s there?“Angel I am, Devil’s too here!”Why is Devil always thy near?“Nothin’ I, exist in His solemn prayer!” O Angel! O Angel!You turning into That?This shrewd bosom buddyA sweet hypocrite brat! O Angel! My Angel!Don’t…
By: Jonathan Chibuike Ukah Tears of the Sun It’s just another Christmas Day.When birds twittered freely away;I sat alone upon the desolate graveWhere flowers lie and pebbles rave. The sun pierced its tearful raysUpon the cloudy hills and matted leaves;Gone…
By: Bruce Levine Today, tomorrow, and always The future holding hands Moving forward Toward new beginnings Building on the past Without looking back Sharing the moments And making new mem’ries Wrapping each adventure In a satin ribbon And placing them…
By Carl Papa Palmer WYSIWYG – What you see is what you get FYI, WTF is not where’s the fire,IIRC. (if I remember correctly)BTW, IANAL. (I am not a lawyer)IOW, IMAn00b. (a clueless newbie) A MOTOS (member of the opposite…
By: Bruce Levine Sometimes I just enjoy being surrounded by booksI sit in my library and look around There’s no purpose to the looking Other than the pleasure the looking brings by itself Shelves filled with books Objet d’art perched…
By: Simon Heathcote Others Can’t flowers be silent & birds sing?A late breeze kisses a single bladesetting off a Mexican wave of Irish green — a tsunami for little things to learn panic.I don’t see so well but I listen.There’s no escaping…
By: Arvilla Fee Building Bridges hand me a plank;I’ll hand you a saw;together we will builda bridge across this chasm;we’ll all be brothers and sisters,sweating together beneath a sunhung in the universe for all mankind,drinking water from our father’s wells;we…
By: Margaret Marcum Fifteen and afraid. I made my family go away.And I record the days carefully in mycomposition book, as if knowing givesme control over disappearing, as if I’m ascientist of my body observing the durationof its disappearance from…
By: Mike Turner I stand upon rough, worn wood deckSalty tang of sea spray upon my lipsEying starched white canvas arching aloft against azure skiesEyes burning and watering from the reflectionFeeling rise and fall of straining hull against rolling wavesCool…