Categoría: revival
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“Lilacs” by Julie A. Dickson
Purple flowersmake me sneezeworth an itchy noselovely lilacslavender bloomnearby bees hum
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“Dandelions Weep” by Joni Caggiano
Veins of leaves pulsate with wrath, while willow oaks bleed through their bark. Even the sun dares not share her vibrant rays without sunscreen as she clasps a bright red umbrella. Flutes play sad songs while morning steam settles into cracks in sable earth. Extracted hearts fearlessly hang from trees…
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“The Delicious Essence of You” by Francisco Bravo Cabrera
(While listening to Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet Suite No.2) Image C2024 Francisco Bravo Cabrera An undisturbed thought forms itself like arms that entwine around you.Vibrating, with speeds unimaginable,thoughts born within us cascade through a highway of fleshto embrace you.We float on clouds towards the essence of you… An unstoppable energy forms rhythms…
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to hide from one’s thoughts ok late by Bogdan Dragos
he comes to the park at night to try to stop thinking It sometimes works It just hasn’t worked ever since he kept finding her there by the basketball field in the dimmest light managing only the lamest throw of a ball to ever be witnessed What’s wrong with her?…
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Poetry by Robbie Cheadle
(haiku)First rain, like first tearsOn rosy and youthful cheeksHow it makes them grow Fifty Years in ShoesWhen we come into this life,our feet are tiny, pink and bare,our sweet smiles and coos,with everyone we share.Our first shoes are formless and soft,a new and welcome sensation,there are no hard walking soles,although…
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Third Door Down by Francisco Bravo Cabrera
Third Door Down (Listening to Astor Piazzolla: “Cuatro Estaciones Porteñas”) He told me it’s the third door downthe hall with the bad light,“you’ll find the door unlocked,” he said,“In fact, it’s never closed at night.”And then he lit a cigarette,a smile crossed his lips,a micro-second gesturethen he gestured for his tip. I…
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“Talk” by Wayne F. Burke
How come you do not talkhe asks.I talk, I say; just not to youbecauseyou are kind of a jackassand would not understand me even if I talked for a year, plusyou are kind of dumb.Why don’t you go and read a bookor two?Why don’t you go and live a little,…
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“The Apple Tree” by Michael L. Utley
The apple treeBehind the houseHas long agoStopped bearing fruit It stands aloneIn sickness boldHalf its branchesDead or dying Leaves the hueOf summers pastDefy the sunThe pouring rain Bound there inWhite-knuckled gripOn mournful twigsOn listless boughs As autumn fadesThe leaves succumbEach one aSmall gold suicide Each gilded dropA dying sparkA universe…
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No Place Like Nome by Gerald Yelle
Scattered stones poke through snow like milk-bottle sins in our kindergarten catechism –and it never dawned on us to ask why black is bad –are we that afraid of the dark? We like to think it’s not a black and white world –just look at all the shades of gray.…
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«ANNA POURING THE TEA» by John Grey
Though your musings have becomeas heavy as rocks,and the years have grown denseinside of you,and blood no longer fills your arteries eagerlybut oozes like marsh waters,and your nerves respond to stimulias infrequently as buses show up at the stopto take you to your doctors,it’s still you laying out the teacups,cream…
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I’m Thankful by Bartholomew Barker
I’m Thankfulthat the porcelain moon glides through her phasesthat the planets march in a line across the skythat Polaris won’t be our North Star forever that spring rains carve new beds with their floodsthat summer sparked wildfires unmap foreststhat autumn hurricanes spawn surprise tornadoes that angry protesters march in the streetsthat my…
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A wake-up call by Smitha Vishwanath
A wake-up callI The day before the surgeryThe morning I went for a check-upI had no idea they’d want to operateBut, my body, they said,needed fixing;I had no choice but to agree.The hospital was no super-specialitythat boasted the latest gadgetsBut it sure had doctorsWho made me feel at ease; enoughto…
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“jars of bugs” by Bogdan Dragos
he rides a rusty bikein the coldnight sliding like afishfrom alley to alley. He’s going upthe hill again. All he’s got on himbesideshis clothesand the bikeis a thermos filled withcoffee he got fromthe vending machineat the mall, coffee bought withmoney earnedfrom a day’s work ofstanding by the traffic lightsat the…
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“Shadow Puppets” by Lynn White
I still see you in the shadows.It’s where you’ve always beencasting shadows over my lifeplaying your part in its theatrewhile staying hiddento project an imagewhich makes me feelas manipulatedas you surely arebehind that screen. It will take courageto draw back the blindto let me see your features,let me see who…
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Mr Tambourine Man: analysis by Luisa Zambrotta
Kandisky – 1939 Mr Tambourine ManThe time is early morning after a sleepless night. The narrator calls on Mr Tambourine to play a song and says he will follow him. In the course of the four verses he expounds on this situation often using ambiguous imagery, though the desire to…
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