By: April Mae Berza I started writing when I found out about the national hero of the Philippines crafting verses at an early age. That time, I told myself I will follow […]
My Poetic Journey Begins Now
The Run Home
By Eric Burbridge For once I followed the doctor’s orders. “Get some sunshine, good ole vitamin D.” He said. I loaded my walker and headed for Tooley Park, a thirty-minute drive […]
Class Struggle in ‘The Boatman of The Padma River’
By: Mohammad Jashim Uddin Literature is the reflection of social picture and human life. It highlights the socio-economic condition, religious belief and its impact on human being, changes of the world, ecology […]
Poems: ‘My Rambunctious Garden’ and ‘Late at night’
By: Priya Anand My Rambunctious Garden My rambunctious garden, a name I unabashedly borrowfrom a book in my daughter’s burgeoning libraryIs filled with a melange of plants thrown together in a frenzySpindly […]
What Comes Next: The World After Postmodernism
By: Adam Wan Postmodernism—a cultural, philosophical, artistic, literary, and architectural movement that emerged in the latter half of the twentieth century, and twenty or so years into the twenty-first century, the movement […]
Little Things
By: Amrita Valan The mind is a repository, a church,A museum, a junk yardAn attic, a trunk,Stashed away with treasures, puzzlesGems, obsolete ciphers. I have been seeingThe tiny corner tableFrom early childhood […]
Bicycle Built for Two
By: James Bates A tandem bicycle was the last thing Liz and I bought before she left me for her personal trainer, a muscle-bound guy named Zeke. “I’m never coming back,” she […]
‘Catch Phrase’ and other poems by Ryan Quinn Flanagan
By: Ryan Quinn Flanagan Catch Phrase It had taken many professionals to snare it.Many more to transport and care for the phrase. As it worked its way around the perimeter of the […]
‘My anger’ and other poems by Matthew Borczon
By: Matthew Borczon My anger Is for you not the horse you rode in on it’s for the lightning not the tree it dropped across the road and it’s not for the soldiers who killed and died in the war who still kill and die in my dreams no my anger is for the men who start wars in the first place and at me for believing that any good would come from it it’s for the kid I was who enlisted without a clue about the man the war would make out of me ### Graveyard shift Another sleepless night and I am on the internet looking at pictures of whales who appear to sleep standing up near the surface so they can get air they sleep only an hour or two a night as long as a ship doesn’t hit them and I wonder what their dreams are about as I remember that the origin of the term graveyard shift is from the times when the dead would sometimes wake back up inside the coffin so they would tie a string from their wrist to a bell and if it rang the worker on the graveyard shift would have to dig them back up from the ground and I never wonder about his dreams because I have spent ten years on the graveyard shift shovel in hand digging soldiers and Marines women and children out of the ground as Afghanistan rang in my ears. ### I was […]
Falling Back To Butterflies
By Raymond Greiner Three summers past we experienced a horrid drought. Crops failed, ponds dried up and grass was brown creating an apocalyptic scene. The poplar trees took the biggest hit; we […]
