TO MY MOTHER’S FRIEND – By Leilani Ahia
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 coldand the land's natural state.I ventured intoSomethingthat was not salty...
TIMES – By Anwer Ghani
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 sunset. It...
DOWNPOUR – By Bruce McRae
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 cellar under thirteen inchesof something that once resembled water.
All of...
AT THE SCUOLA DI SAN ROCCO – By Anne Babson
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 contributed
As dues a painting. He lived...
SIMPLE PLEASURES ELUDE ME LIKE FIREFLIES
SIMPLE PLEASURES ELUDE ME LIKE FIREFLIESBy Shirley Jones-Luke
Simple Pleasures Elude Me like Fireflies
Joy flits away in the moonlight,solitude is the crystal tears of starsdropping in clouds that shift restlesslyabove a dark world, I feel...
AS OF NOW – By Jim Hanlen
AS OF NOWPoems by Jim Hanlen
As of Now
I've just gotten used to wherethe creek and stone belong.They found their place a long time ago.
For a long time I lived like smoke,uncertain, unsure where I...
THE MAN-UNKIND BLUES #1 – By Henry Reneau
THE MAN-UNKIND BLUES #1By Henry Reneau
Anne Waldman
If you turn the Goddess to stone, don't be surprisedif she doesn't bleed. —Andrea Potts
precariousness does not occur in isolationemerging slick & singed but fromloud moments of catastrophesalt...
TOURNÉE DU CHAT NOIR – By Susan Cossette
TOURNÉE DU CHAT NOIRBy Susan Cossette
Tournée du Chat Noir
It is a suitable night for lost souls.The Swiss Guard, clad head to toe in goldLead poets and painters into the smoky fold,Of those who fear...
LULLABY ON WEST 133rd – By Laurel Kaye
LULLABY ON WEST 133rdBy Laurel Kaye
Lullaby on West 133rd
The plane collides and you arriveto murmurs of hyphenated welcomein the halls of terminal 4There was no room for you in Edenso you found a place...
THANKSGIVING – By Obi Nwakanma
THANKSGIVINGBy Obi Nwakanma
Thanksgiving
It is the seventh month, and theUvene fruits are ripe again -The wild berries, plump with juice;The breadfruit, and the gourds are full, heavyLike the pregnant women of this landAbout to give,...