By: Angela Moore Helping by Healing I want to be better…than the person I’ve become.To shed this plastic shelland burn it in the flames of my truth.To saturate my soul with prideand humility.…to help this worldby healing myself.### You Are…
By: Taiwo Oluseye Odesanya Mourning a dead lover To love is to reply to a text- smiling like an idiot,To be a comedian and a painter;Cracking jokes and painting smiles,To watch her from afar andWhisper prayers under your breath,Love is…
By: Debendra Lal The Revolt I slashed the tonguethe two eyes started revolting.I scooped the two eyes outthe two hands started revolting.I cut off the two handsthe two legs started revolting.Then I disfigured the two legsthe head with no eyesand…
By: Bill Griffin Save Three yellowjackets have gatheredto worship a dead mouse.They are jealous of their god –if you nudge the mouse with a stickthey will sting you. We all fly to that which we hopewill save us. What if…
By: Arthur Turfa The Lament of Heloise So deep in the labyrinth of my heartechoes of your voice leave a joyous sound.Not even the pain of when we had to partcompels me to regret the love we found. Within the…
By: James Aitchison Fear not for the children.The wheel spinsand gives new soulsnew paths to walk.Every life is taken from this earthat an appointed timeas part of its eternal series.The younger life is often taken first,because it has ascended faster…
By: Mahathi THE LITTLE THIEFDon’t stop but pamper Him, that prowler slyToddling with grace towards your kitchen door.Be sly like Him and His exploits espy!That thief, the worlds don’t hate but sure adore,Now there inside scooping butter and cheese.But lo…
By: Frances Leitch Sea Gift Sea – giver of lifeSea that delights as waters splashSea that fills children’s heartswith merrimentSea that carries shellsfor them to shoreSea that sings a songwith the windRoars like a lionessand cries not butAlways gives the…
By: Dmitry Blizniuk The ineffable…I’ve walked into your trap.I went to a spring late at nightand froze like a armless statue in the middle of an autumn garden.What should I do? Should I grab with my teeth the knotty pencils…
By: Steven Bruce The Night, Full of Impossibilities That the cold lips of nightwould emit some insight. That the coffee could stay hotand poems would write themselves. That our eyes could be awake forever. That our burdens and regretswould be…