Poetry

PROLONGINGBy William Snyder    PROLONGINGShe told me towait a little while.I said okay,I’ll wait outside.Ry Cooder, JoniMitchell, somebodyin Chains—they play and play.I slept last nightin the hollow comfortof the downstairs couch.Alone.I asked herto come too,but she...

AMERICABy Ken W. Simpson File number thirty-eight America The land of the freea paradoxwhere hypocriteswithout ethicsor moral principlesembraced by hateare programmedto cheat the peopledestabilisedemocratically electednationsinstall dictatorspersecute and terrorise.

HIS HANDBy Amelia Abdullah   Dear mama,MamaThe first word of love to ever leave my lipsThe strongest name to call a womanThe hardest job to take onThe mightiest soldier to ever walk the planetThe most beautiful...

REFLECTIONBy Louise Lever Reflection The blended-up shocking-pink skinsOf a handful of frozen cranberries from the USA mixedWith a frozen skinless banana driesOn the sides of my empty smoothie glass. The Milk looks like sea foam, only it...

BABY POEMBy C.H. Coleman Naughty Feel delicious? Okay!“Decadent,” say it,think: herding happinessisn’t always enjoyable. One button too far ona billowy blouse revealsenough already – two, nowan interstate billboard, augments valley viewing.Obvious, but not obnoxious.Enough already! Walkinga third time...

ONIONBy Amanda Leigh OnionIf I peel off your layers like an onion,Will I find the ripe in you?Are you somewhere down under,Holding an abeyance of the truth?Your mind is a chasm;A puzzle I can’t seem...

THE LOVE OF LATINBy Howard Sage Amidst the cost of all that encompasses the blankiverse these days, tolls to pass this way or that, lights to save pedestrians from stalled vehicles en route to dump their loads of food, oil, chairs, desks,...

ODE TO MADAM CURIEBy Bray McDonald Ode to Madam Curie Whyfinds no comfortin reason. Shoutingdoesn’t help.Beggingbecomes a fierce round eggfree to ponder. What whips the creamof knowledgeis a sacrificiallamb. The Madonna of the Lilies     (William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1899) The pure white petals...

THE PERFECT POEMBy JR Solonche SONNET X X is the first letter of the fewest words, onereason why X is my favorite letter.X is a person, a thing, an agency, a factor,etc. of unknown identity. X...

LOVED LETTERBy Thea Tomaini Loved Letter A letter sent from a long-lost loverOpened with much hesitation trepidationUnfolding it in thirds and turning it overReveals the paper to be blank. It mirrors the look on my face in...