Categoría: poetry
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«Looking for Father» by Ma Yongbo
My mother passed away in the summer.I was at sea in the summer.The waves of freedom were endlessly spreading towards the horizon.Butterflies traveled with the ship, often landing on the ship’s side. After a long time, I returned to land.My brothers and sisters were busy packing our luggage.They didn’t tell…
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Two Poems Tell a Story by John Yamrus
she used to piss him offwith her habit of saying supposably andfor all intensive purposes, but,in the grandscheme of thingsit didn’t really matter, becauseevery now and then she’dstop her talkand they could justsit there, doing nothing, whilethe dogs of summerbarked and the day grew old.***she died of appendicitiswhen he was nine, and hegot shuttledbetween familyand friends and backto family…
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Ode to an Old Road by Prarthana Gogoi
Sitting on my lapA thin muddy roadechoes my childhood daystraveling one by one into my shady mindpieces of fragmented memoriesclick back some songs of cowherd boysburdened with loss and hunger, I see the rhythm of bihu dance with the blooming wild orchidon our smiling curly hairunder an ancient fruit bearing treeI hear…
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«Decaf Espresso» by Gary D. Grossman
Words thatshould nevercomingle—insentence or cup. Copyright © 2025 Gary D. GrossmanAll Rights Reserved
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«after work» by John Yamrus
icome home, walkinto the kitchen and throw my wallet onthe counter. thenmy pens, mycards andfinally mykeys, whichslide along the counter, spin,do a little dance and finallycome to a stop. some day so willi. Copyright © 2025 John YamrusAll Rights Reserved
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THE SACRED PLACES by Ray Whitaker
They are a forever altarand visiting them, we are alteredas the voices of those groundsspeak louder than any rock band like The Who. It is the stories of our existenceof those that preceded us, and matteredranging far beyond any one culturea sanctified parcel strong enough to holdall our feet togetherwith…
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Drowned Time by Mykyta Ryzhykh
We slept with you in the crack of a cut handWe floated alone in the hole of a bloated memory The wind was silently growing strongerThe wound reached the flood waters You sneaked up on me like it was the first timeYou took out the buckshot from your exhalation and…
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«Sprezzatura» by Pete Mladinic
Nonchalance, like Jeter robbing a hitfrom Suzuki at short in Seattle,an away-game, making it look easy;like an Ester Willams water balletin an early 40s flick, bodies like flowers,three rehearsals for one shot. I thought it was ease under pressure.What you don’t have,not you, dear reader, necessarily,but a you who goes…
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Untitled by Mehran Hashemi
the bird and my heartfeel each otheras they long for freedomone from the cageand the otherfrom the ribcage Copyright © 2025 Mehran HashemiAll Rights Reserved
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Forest for the Trees (a Return) by Laura Bennett
Image by Kevin from The Beginning at Last Returning to the forest After a long while Rustling breeze of trees Always make me smile The first time I came Among season of Spring With deep green leaves And blue birds that sing Now darker upon Autumn The air is mysterious …
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A TAP LEFT RUNNING by Gregg Norman
Feeling farmerish in a flat deck FordBut there is a novel on the seatAbout the way dogs thinkI wouldn’t show it to my neighborLest he think me a transplanted fool Sign at the well says if you drink thisWe won’t be responsibleBut town water is yellow with treatmentsThis community well waterIs…
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THE DOOR by Carl Scharwath
{A story poem} In the quiet of twilight, where the edges of dreams blur with reality, an old man stands before a door. It is not just any door; it is the door. Weathered wood, splintered by time, and hinges rusted with a forgotten life. The door stands as a sentinel…
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«VACANT ROOMS» by Strider Marcus Jones
take my thoughts with you,as I cast them into the ocean,and let the seagulls drown my words,from cliffs where clouds sweep low. wild, wind-swept spray, spitsat time turned rocks,and stands them impotent too-on sands that shift: like truths, turned false and cut loose,like flesh, that fades on a bone-bleached sky;it…
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«Acorn» by Julie A. Dickson
I thought I recognizeda gnarled oak upon this pathmy eyes search the tree line –perhaps I am mistaken Acorns at my feet rollamong roots and brushI hear a far-off crylone red-tailed hawkgliding lazily abovereminding me of somethingjust beyond the edge of thoughtoutcropping of rock aheadstands as sentry to beyond I…
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Seguidilla of the Sky by Valentí Gomez i Oliver / Photograph by Marga Clark
Hun-ab-kú, the firts God Of de Mayan world. Itzanmá, Godo f Sky. Rhirteen heaven exist; Hells, only nine, Where the lords of the night Slumber for all of time
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Ç’est la Guerre by Walter Bargen
It was not his intention,to sit quietly, hands together restingin his lap, holding each other in orderto comfort and assure, as if they no longerwere headed in different directions,as if to convince him of the wholeness of his sitting. Eyes closed wanting only to be a listener,reduced to pure vibration,…
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