Afternoon of September 21, 2026

 

wabi sabi

for   get   ting

which is which

~Vishal Prabhu

 

 

 

kleptocurrency

stacking the coins

by bits

~Tré

 

the boys next door

at it again

four moons

~Tré

lab tests

I identify

as a pincushion

~Tré

They will find you 2:35 p.m. scrolling.

~Souvik Sarkar

for sanity chestnut trees in sunlight a moment of peace 

~Sarah Mahina Calvello

 

sun unfolding spiraling days back from the mess

~Sarah Mahina Calvello

afloat on quicksand

~Pegah Rahmati Nezhad

suffering from their suffering street cats

~Pegah Rahmati Nezhad

th(i)s too shall pass

~Pegah Rahmati Nezhad

aligning with the inclining hill half moon

~Tejendra Sherchan

what the war leaves behind shrouded moon

~Mona Bedi

 

deep grief the bed still unmade

~Mona Bedi

Sorrow's Mysteries

cannot be solved 

by Angela Lansbury

or the gun

on the table

they are only 

ended so

lean back relax

change the channel

~dan smith

Metaphors

tumble in the washing machine

of my brain and come out

all mixed up soggy and wrinkled

I try to put a different spin 

on them in the dryer that is my heart

and they do come out softer

and smoother if not new

or improved     

~dan smith

the devil

really

has plenty of

advocates

~Noah Berlatsky

the strait roars

a shuddering moon

smoked out

~Kavita Ratna

Record-breaking Nashville heat

ends two days before fall begins.

Red hot anger at

how we treat the earth.


~Jeffrey Taylor / Janelle Curlin-Taylor

unicorns, mermaids,

fairytale propaganda—

wander in the real

~Maximilien Hein

faint stretch marks

are all I have left 

of you 

~Marie C Lecrivain

I’ve

started

to remove

the paintings we hung

to showcase our relationship

but the blank spaces

were all lies

just like

us

~Marie C Lecrivain

Celebrate with smols poetry journal (September 22)

 

      

Submit your ultra-short poetry: https://smolspoetryjournal.blogspot.com/

Afternoon of September 18, 2026

   

war criminal first person plural

~Kelly Sauvage Moyer

 

My heart 

is an open-faced sandwich, 

prepared with blackened avocado,

a half-grind salt

and the glistening shards 

of a dead woman’s dream.

~Kelly Sauvage Moyer

 

eating my heart out   spirochetes 

~Kelly Sauvage Moyer

 

 

 

my AI buddy

does the heavy sifting

tells me what to believe

~Mark Gilbert

 

 

in my gorilla suit

I can’t solve the world’s problems

~Mark Gilbert

 

 

a plastic bag of doggy poo

words I would have wanted

never to have written


~Mark Gilbert

orangeness

be gone

with

ye

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

I caw at the crow

perched alone

atop the dead tree…

it plays deaf

and mute.


~Diane Webster

 

For a writer

a sentence handed down

would be a good thing.

~Jon Spencer

staring sidelong

at his reflection

in the laptop’s

dark theme,

 

the hunched scholar

lifts up the chair

gripping fistfully

its grilled rungs

~Marcus Ten Low

T'ai Chi —

balancing what refuses 

to settle 

~Debarati Sen

midnight stroll

ghosts of the past

walking in my footsteps


~Debarati Sen

Poetry

I have written her name

in countless ways mannered and colloquial

thru moonrise and sunset calm and storm.

Her name is poetry. She lives beyond the norm.

She walks in sunlight's madness.

Bestows her kisses oh, so sparingly.

The fleeting glimpses of her beauty nothing to compare. 

I'm left in the wreckage. Left in the burning air.

~dan smith

spirit birds and me kindred 

~Rupa Anand

MIRROR

There was a smudge on the mirror.

I wiped it with my sleeve.

With the smudge gone,

my wrinkles showed more clearly.

I looked for a moment,


~Young-jin Lee

THE SEAT

A seat opened up on the bus.

Two people spoke at once.

“Go ahead.”

“No, you go ahead.”

While they offered it to each other again,

a student who had just boarded

walked between them and sat down.


~Young-jin Lee

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

beneath the moon

a small flower opens

no one sees

~image and text Manasa Reddy

Afternoon of September 16, 2026

 

A CERTAIN LOGIC

1. Nothing is certain.

2. Except paradox.

∴ Accept paradox.

~Scott Parker

driftwood

becoming a part

of the mystery

~Joanna Ashwell

seize the day

a flea in the bed

of each lodger

~Joanna Ashwell

Please Like This Post

 

The goal of social media

is to make friends and then

slowly

over time

turn them into enemies.

 

When everyone hates you

you win

and get to die.

~Noah Berlatsky

She used words I hadn't seen or heard 

since taking the Scholastic Aptitude Test

~Patrick Sweeney

Instead of offering me another beer, 

the pain-in-the-ass history buff is pontificating about the short lifespan of democracies 

~Patrick Sweeney

I'm the old man who can't stop coughing on the Amtrak to Pittsburgh

~Patrick Sweeney

I'm old enough to remember being warned about quicksand

and the third rail of fascism

~Patrick Sweeney

Former deep thinkers on trains are texting,

and compulsively checking their messages....

~Patrick Sweeney

unexpected obit 

pulling the trigger 

too soon 

~Stephanie Zepherelli 

On Listening to Son House Sing Death Letter Blues

my sadness pales even knowing

that it won't seem

like even a hundred 

on the burial grounds  

and I probably won't 

even be notified 

knowing that it's 

really me I mourn for

the stark lyric beauty

hits me and I almost cry

~dan smith

hey, bully

together we’ll out-bully

you

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

this too shall pass —

a refugee's last words

before deportation 

~Debarati Sen

parents' gravestone photos

each looks away from the other

forever


~Maya Daneva

 

Saint Alan

Prayers

answered.

Universe

polices

Itself

every

century

or so.

~Chad Parenteau

fallen between the fallen makeshift crosses

~Maya Daneva

emotions spark thunderstorms zigs and zags distant but close 

~Sarah Mahina Calvello

 

bowing before binary gods our nemesis

~Stephanie Zepherelli 

 

coffee and rent reality screaming 

~Sarah Mahina Calvello

 

the fianchettoed chess player

~Ron Scully

Opalescent strange rain outside the lines

~Sarah Mahina Calvello

The precious remark of absurdity develops wings the wind stops blowing, a thought is 

torn to shreds 

~John Vlachos