By: Pramod Rastogi Write these words on your slateThat you will never eraseIs the promise you need to make. These words of lore are all I own.They are earnings of my life  That I had dreamt for you to keep And which will help you walk the…

By:  James Aitchison Listen to the soft voiceof your inner self,speaking with the wisdomof eternity and knowledgeof all things.You hold the keys toall healing.You do not have towait until death.Your soul hosts the secretsof freedom from the transient.You will be…

By: Thomas Sanfilip One of the more extreme challenges these days is to somehow reinvent a writer deceased over 150 years ago and still appeal to modern, literary tastes. The 19th century French poet, Charles Baudelaire, presents such a challenge, though…

By: Miriam Manglani Linda didn’t ask for a step daughter with Down Syndrome when she married Allen six months ago. She exhaled in frustration and paced through her bedroom, her heals digging into the white plush carpet. “You said we’d…

By: Steven Grogan I think I was just too nervous when I let my tongue go rattling off like the machine gun I was holding. Why did I have to say I was going to kill those people if my…

By: James Aitchison Take refuge in thequiet voice within your soul.The past is impermanent,incapable of pursuit.When your mind is free ofphysical emotion,no regrets can remain.Hear the Wheel spin,heed the quiet voice ofyour inner self,let eternal truth shield youfrom turbulence.Accept life,…

By L. Burton Brender For Jim and Anthony My older brother, Jose, he is a man. He has 16 years and he has been a chambelan. Two times. The first time he was the escort for this very pretty girl who…

By: Brian Michael Barbeito the rains had arrived when there was supposed to be snow, and the fields became beige and flaxen again, and the world was strange and stayed that way. it was as if it had longed to…

By: Jake Sheff I Reassure and Measure Time’s Reluctance Down at Silver Falls: an Ovillejo How do you steal moonlit nights?Squatters’ rights.What do you tell whiny trees?Eat the freeze!Where do all your secrets run?On the sun. Now the autumn rains…

By: Gulshan Ara Little nursery underneath a half-burnt bunkerKerosine lamps hanging from the ceilingTiny premature babies wrapped in half torn blanketCurling up in their tiny cribs, struggling to stay warmSucking the last drop of milk from an empty milk bottleStruggling…