Home Poetry - Year II - Number 7 - Volume I - June 2017

Poetry - Year II - Number 7 - Volume I - June 2017

    MORAL ORAL – By Zach Trebino

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    MORAL ORALBy Zach Trebino death’s mouth one morning, we wake in a coiled embrace, dead.i don’t know how i even know this. after years inthat now-rotten...

    PALAVRAS – By Pierre Sotér

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    PALAVRASBy Pierre Sotér Palavrasto the memory of António Aleixo           P’ras palavras serem fundas,e da vida também parte,não precisam ser fecundas,nem sequer de muita arte.Há palavras vagabundas,e...

    R + N 4EVER – By Elliot Greiner

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    R+N 4EVERBy Elliot Greiner R + N 4ever Their initials are scoopedinto the curb of thegrocery’s parking lot,the remains of a promisecollecting age,the glances of passerby.

    FACES OF LOVE – By Faleeha Hassan

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    FACES OF LOVEBy Faleeha Hassan Faces of love  Do not carry me in your handLike a small bird wet with rain dropsLove is a traumatic experienceBut I want to live...

    LIKE WIND – By Ed Hack

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    LIKE WINDBy Ed Hack Weather In America The lightning didn't stop. An hour or moreit lit the reddish sky at 3amas rain slashed down in waves,...

    CONTUSIONS – By Gary Beck

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    CONTUSIONSBy Gary Beck Hidden Treasure We move through city streetsintent on arrivalat destinations,immune to the beautyaround us;elegant willow,sweet Finch song,the fall of lighton an old building,the...

    TO MY MOTHER’S FRIEND – By Leilani Ahia

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    TO MY MOTHER'S FRIENDBy Leilani Ahia To My Mother's Friend Let me tell you of the walkyou missed this eveningbecause you did not care for wetand...

    TIMES – By Anwer Ghani

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    LITERARY CONTESTSFICTIONNONFICTIONPOETRYHAPPENINGSBOOK REVIEWSINTERVIEWSNEW TITLESART & PHOTOGRAPHYADELAIDE Independent Quarterly Literary Magazine / Revista Literária Independente Trimestral, New York / Lisboa, Online Edition            TIMESBy Anwer Ghani The SunsetMy hand is so hot like the soul of the...

    DOWNPOUR – By Bruce McRae

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    DOWNPOURBy Bruce McRae Downpour A heavy rain falling over Lithium Island,the roads flooded with tears of the disenfranchised,the quarry a lake of grief and woes,the tavern’s...

    AT THE SCUOLA DI SAN ROCCO – By Anne Babson

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    AT THE SCUOLA DI SAN ROCCOBy Anne Babson The gate guard greeted me “pronto,” not “buongiorno,”As if I were afar off phoning, but there IStood, ecce homo.  Years, this artist...