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…
By: Jim Bates A stuffed animal?No not to the young boyMore than a Christmas giftShe was soft oh so softFluffy and whiteCuddly secureHe called her Snowflake. Sick in the hospitalBright lights glaringMonitors beepingShe kept him companyThankfullyUnrelentingly lonelinessDeepest darkest nightLong hours…
By: Ron Wetherington His skull rests on my desk with others from his family of fossils.The Old Man of La Chapelle-aux-Saints, ill-fated,misinterpreted among the Neanderthals. Cruelly symbolic, still:a dim-witted approximation of humanness, they say,too primitive for language, they say,unprepared for…
By: Debabrata Mohanty Spring bids us adieuwishing all under warm care—sunshowers sans clouds
By Karen Lee Stradford You’re all plugged in,amplified.Long neck,flat, pear-shapedwonder. I awaitthe piercing soundof your strings. I am happy.You move meto a thunderousapplausewhenever you playThe Blues.
By: Richard LeDue A Living Poem I’m still aliveas long as you read this,even after silence tells methe truth about godsand worms wonder whymy eyes taste nothinglike apples. ### A coffee stained collected love poems of Pablo Nerudawhispers midnight regretsas…
By: J. L. Lewis April The Sun climbs higher each day,like a soldier taking a hillone costly step at a time.Almost shyly it tiptoes across the skyas if somehow it lost its footingin the nebulous clouds of December,and needs to…