Home Poetry - Year IV - Number 25 - June 2019

Poetry - Year IV - Number 25 - June 2019

    HIGHWAY MIRAGE by Dale Dewoody

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    HIGHWAY MIRAGEby Dale Dewoody  Highway Mirage “Near the highway surface, grazing rays from the sky in front of us pass down from higher cooler air to warmer rarefied air and back up again into our eyes…If a...

    THE BICYCLE by Mark Jamieson

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    THE BICYCLEby Mark Jamieson Gettysburg Gettysburg, park on the hill.Elevator to fourth floor.Riding boots. Walk to supper,Across the street and next door.Old tavern, downstairs, bricksAnd candles, a nice choice to make.Bench, dark wood, quiet corner.            Bread, bourbon and...

    BRUCE LEE by Marc Carver

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    BRUCE LEEby Marc Carver I found Betrend Russell in a park I had never been to beforeI had Bruce Lee dumplingsand people kept smiling at me all day longand a family adopted me on the...

    LIFE OF A POET by John Kaniecki

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    LIFE OF A POET by John Kaniecki A AbsoluteData, information, TruthCan you compute?Are you astute?These theories they present inHigher educationDo they serve sin?Do they offer salvation?Scarecrow on the cross defining painNails pierced through skin and boneThat is...

    APRIL CHILDREN by Kevin Keane

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    APRIL CHILDREN by Kevin Keane Unsuccessful Death The crossbow above her fireplaceWas to me a precious symbol of her glowing in disguiseHer persistent beauty carved heavy images into my mindShe held me with cold finger tipsWrenching from...

    THE HUMAN SPIRIT by Diarmuid ó Maolalaí

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    THE HUMAN SPIRIT by Diarmuid o Maolalai The human spirit is very breakable.we don'tfight.give inall the time. crayonsbreakin our five year oldfingersand look at that;suddenlyour pictureshave doublethe amount of blue. we take circumstanceand adapt.survivebetter. most of usdon't challenge the...

    FOUR MILES TO ARCADIA by Stephen Reilly

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    FOUR MILES TO ARCADIA by Stephen Reilly FOUR MILES TO ARCADIA The citrus groves punctuated with fruit.Is it that early in the season? With the pastures still green, the cattle could care less about what questions I askor...

    A PURPLE SHADOW by Stella Prince

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    A PURPLE SHADOW by Stella Prince Leaves were crisp against my boots.The crunch of sticks sounded like a baby’s rattle.The moonlight made my quiet eyes dim.Woods are purple and black.Woods are full of mischief.I listened softly...