By: Jim Bates Fall’s changing colorsGolden-yellow orange and redKalidoscope glee. Oak tree forest giftFat acorns dropping like rainSquirrels ecstatic. Quiet woodland pondWhite swans feed in unisonBeautiful ballet. Midnight open fieldMilky Way washes the skyStarry cosmic joy.

By: Richard LeDue “Poem Sized Questions (In Lieu of Big Ones)” Why are there poetswho are so sure they’ve seen godor at least through him enoughto brag about oblivionlike it’s an award for a poetry contest? Why are there poetsso…

By: Paweł Markiewicz the dreamed winterthe storks sitting meekly in Africathe butterfly frozen in the marvelous pondmice write a gorgeous mytha rural boy longs for the moonglowwitch apollonianly bewitcheda stunning worldin a moony wayI am full of druidic wizardriesYou are…

By: James Aitchison This is the nightwhen you are still.My voice in your soulis the voice of all things.I speak when youmost need me.I will bind you not withfear or ritual, but withpeace and silence.I demand of younothing.I spin the…

By: Ranjit K Sahu Autumn winds The wind gives a little nudgeIt’s cold touch unwelcomeThe autumn leaves peak in glory at dawnTheir pinnacle of colors is hereShall they not enjoy it a little longer? The leaves flutter a littleA shiver…

By: Debasish Giri CHAPTER ONE – “Crashing Waves, Silent Tears” The silence of the night is broken by the rhythmic crash of the waves—an endless, relentless sound. It almost feels like the ocean is speaking, each wave whispering some ancient…

By John RC Potter           This is not as much about an old antique trunk as it is about my sister, Jo Ann, and perhaps more importantly, about her childhood sweetheart, Paul, whom she married at a very young age…

By James Aitchison Even before the COVID pandemic and harsh lockdowns, loneliness was already a global phenomenon.  Today, one in every three adults worldwide feels they are constantly “lonely” or “very lonely”.  Despite digital connectivity, or arguably because of it,…

By: Jad S. Karkout       In writing Dubliners, Joyce aimed to present a historical account of Dublin and create a vivid portrayal of Irish life. To achieve this, he centered Dublin as a hub of paralysis that afflicted most of…

By: Bruce Levine The Beetle Parade The beetle paradeCrossing the floorSeeking new bound’riesYet trapped by a doorFollow their leaderTo rooms yet remainThe prizes for beetlesIs another refrain Ants Ants live on a farmAnd sometimes they live on a hillIt seems…