By: Bob Kalkreuter Sea oats swayed in the breeze sweeping in from the Gulf of Mexico. Sitting on a chair atop the wind-wrinkled dune, Travis could see down the beach to a fishing pier that looked like a centipede crawling into…

By: Balu George I write poetry without ambition, Without wondering about rhyme, Or worrying about metaphors. I write because I like writing, Just like, I like watching Women brush hair of their forehead, Balloons floating up towards the sky on…

By: Tom Sheehan Not everything is as it seems. Sheriff Colum Twyne had heard that phrase said a number of times, and here he was being the proof of the saying. He was hoping it was a true observation in…

By: Pijush Kanti Deb She seems to be submissive to me who is yet to witness that stern storm which may drive a ship high and dry but I witnessed my deserted father and his hidden tears. So, I grant…

By: Pijush Kanti Deb Neither telepathy is known nor an effective time-machine is owned yet the race towards you seems to be so automatic that the frightening distance between you and me and the on going moking circumstance from my…

By: Linda M Crate dance magic dance surfaced in my head three days before you departed almost as if you were summoning me from the deep slumber of a nightmare insisting it was time to become a rebel against reality,…

By: Linda M Crate there are no more tomes of labyrinth to beseech no more goblin kings to steal away the breath and hearts of young and old girls alike in the spinning of three crystal balls and a swift…

By: Linda M Crate why have you left us, star man? seems the fabric of the universe is coming untethered in your absence, and we still have the music but without you it just isn’t quite the same; always i’ve…

By: Angelo McCabe As you move and go away You divide me in two, Into the night and Into the day By your sun and the moon and stars that are Your eyes … Your eyes of blue That I love,…

By: Edward J. DeSilva, Jr is different than new. It grows more complex – richer – with the passing of time, like the taste of old scotch. It lingers on the tongue and in the memory. Or the smell of a…