Etiqueta: poetry
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«Presto» by Harrison Fisher
After ten generations of magicianspulled fifteen times as manygenerations of rabbitsout of hats, rabbits can now do this on their own,popping up in places unexpectedeven to them. Even so, they’re now rare enoughin my city neighborhoodthat seeing one on my blockis a bit remarkable, like suddenly spying a fairy or…
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«Fragile Flesh and Open Eyes» by Myrtle Thomas
with autumn also comes wintereach one is a gift from abovemy life began in the shades of autumnleaves …..I can’t recall the sightnor the smell of such a beautiful dayor the sight and feel of the moonlighton my fragile flesh. sometimes we neglect to embracethe hours that are ours in…
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“even” by John Yamrus and Janne Karlsson
In a career spanning more than 50 years as a working writer, John Yamrus has published 39 books. He has also had more than 3,000 poems published in magazines and anthologies around the world. A number of his books and poems are taught in college and university courses. He is…
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“Going Wild” by Nolcha Fox
The art of lawn is not my style,I’m not concerned with trimmed and green.Dandelions delight the bees.Let puff and fluff float through the air.Flower seeds borne by the windcan plant themselves wherever they dare.If grass is color of sick hay,I say let’s take the whole lawn out.Put in some native…
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«I Am the Coin that Falls Between the Cracks» by Michael L. Utley
parts of me have diedthat no one will ever knownor will ever mournand why should theyI am just a remnant of myselfwrit small among the vagaries of life I am the coin that falls between the cracksthe sub-aural hum of power linesthe mote-specked silence of barn loftsthe dull glint of…
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«THREE WATERFALLS» by Ray Whitaker
Seeing them in winter, frozen mostlya long white cascaded soft shapeis entirely different from the summer mountainsidewhen the strength of the water tumblingdown the fourteen-hundred-foot peakbrings the feelings the wetness home.That moisture becomes as thoughtsthose moving almost dreamlikethru the synapses of the brainas the water cascades, becoming image after imagethe…
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«Madder Than a Wet Hen» by Joni Caggiano
«Madder Than a Wet Hen» by Joni Caggiano “I’ll wear the prettiest dress I have today. Maybe the boy behind me won’t draw on my ears with his pen. He hurts my feelings, and I wonder if the ugliness at home follows me around. Surely, he won’t tease me with…
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“Begin again” by Cynthia Cady Stanton
but this time from a different place thanyou usually inhabit.Not from the ground of judgement.Not from the excruciating angst of perfectionism.This time spring lightly from the soil of grace -that place of freedomwhere all is well, andyou are fine.That place of nurturance from which life springs.Begin again.Not from the energy…
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“Saloon-and-Toy Store” by Sam Moe
glistening with expensive emotions, an obscene love of gelatin, a housefull of dream-cream heat-sensitive beans, please prepare moon oysters and crescent cream cheese boats, I’m particularly soft at the thoughtof your hands on the stove, stirring tortellini or just spooning crested firecracker rice, at times you cease to exist in the bruise,…
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«In My Will» by Michael Lee Johnson
In my will, there will be a pinball machine.A renovated jukebox from American Pickers,a cable TV show. For the taverns, bars,and basements of fun seekers for thosewho long to be free and ferocious.I no longer fear death.Empty vodka bottle by my bed.A dusty Bible underlinedJesus’ messagesin red. Copyright © 2025…
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«The Cascade» by Harrison Fisher
In “The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis,”there is only one movie playing in town,The Monster Who Devoured Cleveland. It has two sequels:the Bride of, followed bythe Son of. In one episode, all three titles appearon the marquee of the Cascade Theateras a “TRIPLE HORROR FEATURE.” We read nuclear family structure…
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“Techno Elemental Akasha” by Shannon Hensley
Meryl Sweep moves across the floorand under the table sucking up yesterday’s crumbsSometimes she gets stuck between the rugand the rubber shoe mat in the entryOccasionally she just seems confusedand even tries to spin out the closed back doorThe door stops are all just the right heightto accidentally turn off…
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“Keeping the Wheels Rolling” by Ken Gierke
Used cars, always about three-years-old. A less-than-modest income ensured that, but you always gave those cars the greatest care. It’s a bit hazy, but I remember a green ’53 Pontiac Chieftain with that iconic hood ornament. Your favorite was the ’56 Buick, painted deep green with the lower panels in…
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«my old dog’s gone deaf» by John Yamrus
my old dog’s gone deaf it happenedpracticallyovernight. the vet sayssometimes ithappens that way. she’s notin any pain, andit doesn’tseem to bother her. when she’sout in the yard, and icall herto come in, shesits there, andstares at me. sameas always. sometimes,i even forgetshe can’t hear me. actually,she never reallylistened to me,…
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Monse…by Francisco Bravo Cabrera
If I were to introduce the sweetest angel,a companion for the sins that grace the soul,who lives close to the crossroads,and I’ll mention,her door is always open for a call.Her arms will always be there to give comfort,She’s always so polite and in control,You’ll dream of her soft touch forever…
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«FIRST TIME I SET FOOT IN FLORIDA, CIRCA 1959» by Suzanne S. Austin-Hill
Student of the dance for about five years;Driving trip south, road-side billboards appear.Mermaids announcing elaborate underwater shows,Lying on their sides smiles hiding Jim Crow.Thoughts of themes, props and music could not be effaced.Drawn like a magnet, Weeki Wachee, the place.Are we there yet? Are we there yet?, nose pressed to…
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