Poetry - Year V - Number 30 - November 2019

LUCK by Joan McNerney   Falling Asleep Curling into a question markeyes shutteredlips pursedhands empty. Dropping throughlong dusty shaftsdown into dank cellars.Leaving behind faded day. That last cup of sunlightpouring from fingertips.Lulled by rattling trains,sighs of motors. Bringing nothing butmemory...

SEARCHING by Brionna Nijah   Can I Be Honest And Tell YouThat I Am Broken?Not Beyond RepairBut The Cracks Run So DeepYou’ll Think I Was An Addict For PainI Ain't Got The Tools To Fix MeI...

SPEND THE NIGHT by John Grey SPEND THE NIGHT Nothing like the creaky doors,worm-riddled stairs, cobwebbed windows,of an old deserted mansion.Especially at night,in the midst of a thunderstorm,with lightning flashesthe only visibility,thunder thumping clouds together,and rain trampling...

UP THERE By Roger Singer UP THERE  The moon a legend inthe sky a face totalk toa light to cry under a beaconfor our pathsalongsideriversshorelinesand late nightsidewalks we observefrom hereat thebasement ofgravitya beauty thathaunts us. SMALL AND GREATI lit a candlefor comfortits...

TODAY by Stella Prince TODAY You and I we live by day,At night you tend to fly away,Leaving me to live for tomorrow. I want more than you can give,But you say live and let live.Leaving me with...

THE LORD'S PRAYER RECYCLED by Pernille Aegidius Dake   Our friend who art in the Third World,We know not thy name, yet feel your pain.Your time will come if you put your mind to it.The world...

WEDDING by Timothy Loveday   Maggots she cannot tell herhusband that there aremaggots in her fanny. thatthe maggots only feed on deadflesh. that they have been growinginside of her. that they come out whenshe pees. in the...

The Café DownTo the Latin QuarterTo the caféBy the storeWhere you boughtThat green dressWhere we lockedOur bikesTo the street lampAnd raced the rainTo salvationWhere the tableWas oursIn our universeAway from it allWith everything nestled inWhere...

A LIFE NOT OUR OWN by Melissa Chappell   A Life Not Our Own The lights of the television crews shone as bright as a Syrian sun.The scene was set for a Presidential appearance,red backdrop, no doubt...

PANERA by James Croal Jackson  Panera I lost the important thingssweeping baguette crumbsunderneath an industrialfan– cyclicality, the broom’s sashayfrom one end of the room tothe next– sand blown from the centerof the desert, and how selfishto keep...