By Lefcothea Maria Golgaki Suppose you saw the truth,would you still blame the lepersfor the gaping wounds in your body? And if your sky was sullen,would you yet reproach the flickering candlefor the shadow it casts? So boundless is your…
By: Hua Ai Seagulls from the Other Woods In the woods,my leaves have tapped on many people’s headsduring their yellowed seasons.The fallen woods and the wind towards the west,two glasses of a historic yesterday, cut through Sava River,and they asking…
By: Steven Deutsch K We knew back thenyou would nevergrow old.Did you? Today nature threwa January thawas if in rehearsal for spring.It is a time to take stock—kick off your shoesput up your feetand let in the daydreams.It is the…
By: Alan Berger My fatherNever wanted childrenThat was plain to seeI couldn’t blame himBut I never blamed me I’ll even take it furtherMy friends had fathersI noticed them after schoolI think I wanted one too They would laugh togetherAnd actually…
By: Scott Thomas Outlar Alkalizing Spirit Pineal gazingto quiet the mindand usher consciousnesstoward a single pointof higher awareness beyond the frantic processof thinking in circlespetting the egoand arguing with selfuntil silence eventuallywins center stage Solitary excursioninto the depthsoffers expansionoutside the…
By: Yahuza Usman My Feverish Pen was wallowing in its misery,small enough to subdue its melancholy,bright enough to throw into reliefthe dark plastic that cluttered it. i learned that much rage was crawlingtogether with its flooded inktrying to fetch a…
By: Mary Bone The Age of Innocence It was the age of innocence,In our younger years.You could see it everywhere.We wished we could go back there.Lines were in a swirl, interwoven.The tree still holds memories,between the lines. ### Turning Over…
By: Paweł Markiewicz I am a mournful-sublime sparkgentle such elysian seraphic wingsa glimmer that flies above the delicate homelandI the twinkling come from balmy Luther’s starsan orb which is enchanting-comfortable the paradise full glitter persists not far from methe lights…
By: Chen Ruizhe Standing on the yellow earth and looking at the traces of ancestorsThink back to the cultivator who was and is nowIf there’s a big movie by one personAlmost call it a rich farmer Read the books and…
By: Ramzi Albert Rihani Unscathed When the wind blows in directions, North and SouthAnd the earth vibrates like echoes in a chorus When belief becomes the envy of the skepticAnd doubt takes center stage on the altar of piety When…