words
leave poetree
~Robert Witmer
night flight—
the exhaust
of
a jet engine
~Andrew Markowski
a roll of the dice
one by one
the
bones come to rest
~Robert Witmer
cheap motel—
the vending machine
eats
my money
~Andrew Markowski
awaiting biopsy results—
a spider
enters
the waiting room
~Ram Chandran
shades of dusk
a murder of crows
deepen
my solitude
~Neena Singh
Zazen…
on my knees
I
cross myself
~Linda
L Ludwig
a poet
milks his words
the
muse mooed
~Robert Witmer
mu
the peace of just being
a
heifer on a hill
~Robert Witmer
The
Hall
In the hall was the last time I saw him.
He was a sorry sight.
And I didn’t want him giving anyone a
fright.
In the house he had given joy for years.
But
the sight of him now would only produce floods of tears.
There
he lay with no tail or ears.
Farewell my stuffed
friend.
Our time has finally come to an end.
The
grandchildren have finally done you in.
And the only place for
you now is in the bin.
~Lorna Smart Wordcrafter
Orion nebula
the space between
the stars and me
~Françoise Maurice
after the supernova
making sandcastles
out
of stardust
~Eavonka Ettinger
discarded
gift bags, once full, lay empty now.
~Julie A. Dickson
decorations
stolen from the front yard
Christmas
spirits
~Eavonka Ettinger
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