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…
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