By Karen Lee Stradford Fog I can’t see.No ideawhat I may run into.I’ll take my chances. I have faith.A better view is-waiting for meonthe other side. ### Grass looks greener It looks so perfect.Nothing seems out of place.Your organization is-impeccable….

By: Harrison Abbott He would come in for coffee many mornings a week. I liked him the first time I saw him, and then more and more as he kept returning; he had such a sunny face. At the start…

By: Chandra Shekhar Dubey We are flying, we are flyingabove the ground, skyscrapersabove the river, green valesand forest deep above the pasturesdeep ocean where demoness meetsher lover above the clouds in the sky.We are flying ,we are flyingacross the colonies…

By: Suveeksha Viswanathan Of my days spent in reclusion or so it seems, the confinement that I subjected myself to was of the crazy kind if not the kind that leaves your artifices bare. Raw talent as you may call…

By: Daniel Millard Should not an artistStarve himselfDown to aGood fighting weight? Writing himself outTo be theChampion of his times Echoing back – calling to his matesReaching back to all of those paintedYesterday’sAges that he knew he would never haveSurvivedLight…

By: KJ Hannah Greenberg Not Rigorous Enough When words are rigorous enough to illuminate the discourse amidst dysfunctional adults,To create meaning from world leader’s remarks, to probe sundry romance novels, peopleContend that the breadth, external validity, & heuristic benefit discounting…

By: Hidden pen Lost in my thoughts (What if?)….What if it all a lie?.What if we get to heavenAnd don’t get inside,What if we get to the gateAnd see God at the other side?. What if we can’t go back?,What…

By: Kyle Callam With a leaden chest I must regrettably compileThe very last words that will come to defineYour very cruel and selfish last stanceAnd why you choose no more to danceAs to why you fled from a life of…

By: Paweł Markiewicz The moony, dreamy naiad is awakened,like pearl in the deepest marine finery.She-muser of eternity seeks for hoard.Choir: Muse’s treasure amaranthine-gentle. The naiad to dearest prentice: Magicalis a hidden cavity, the wind told me.< Apprentice: >We are awoken…

By Debra J. White Home was a shabby brick apartment building in a working class, scrappy New York City neighborhood where families, even large ones, were packed into cramped quarters. I always knew I’d get old but it happened so…