Poetry - Year IV - Number 27 - August 2019

RUNNINGby Stella Prince  Tell me now, what do you think?I might never love again.What can you say to me tonight?So I’ll believe in you again. Cause I’m running now,I guess I might come back eventually,But I’m...

HE PRETENDS TO BE A SENATORby O. Howard Winn   HE PRETENDS TO BE A SENATORbut it is clearhe is really a Mock turtlefrom Capitalist Wonderland andhis song is a serenade tothe Red Queen runningthe nation...

LIFE, LOVE AND HOPEby Ezekiel Archibong  LIFE, LOVE AND HOPE I try to reach high to the skyand admire the simplicity of life.The lilting song as it floats through flowersalong a brook of fairy bowers.Where I...

SPEAKING WITHOUT LANGUAGEby Jan Little  Speaking Without Language Nurses, family friends and we all grappleWith an articulate mother suddenly unableTo speak to us now. Charades and questions become new mode of talking:Where the word “medicine” and hand’s...

HOWEVER RICHby Cameron Morse    Shave GelTheo says Mama and hands mea hair from your head  so long its endshave twirled together. Today isthe bottle of my shave gelhe won’t let go of as if it containedsome wish-granter...

LITTLE MAX MOUSE  by James Padgett  It was a warm, sunny day in Willowy Wood.Little Max Mouse ran as fast as he could.He had to get to the Oak by the stream.It was his turn to...

A VIEW OF POLITICSby Christopher Di-Filippo    Deciphering PoliticsRefuge of a different voice= (equals) an apology in motion.Our policy has always been – (minus)the previous government= (equals) individual fascism.Economic indifference2 (squared)= (equals) households held hostage topolicy...

OF THIS HOURby Korkut Onaran  ANOTHER BAR JOKE A deep sea creatureand a priest walk into a bar.Where? In a poem. In a highmountain town at a landlocked state,in a historic bar. The priest drinks red wineand talks...

EMBODIED SOILby Sarah Conklin  You never loved me, I was just a body. I come home to dead flowers hanging on the wall, parched but aesthetically pleasingdry from humidity and a lack of loveThe eucalyptus has...

BEES by Robin Ray Steepest of Hills Who can singwhen the water’s edged,mouths are paste dry,fruit trees stand barrenas virgin tides? Step after stepup that steepest of hills,hungry vampire stoneslive off the burst blistersof innocent seekers. Kippers in the...