Five Fleas Merch

Evening of December 28, 2022

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


on my knees

I cross myself

~Linda L Ludwig

a poet

milks his words

the muse mooed

~Robert Witmer


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

~Fran├žoise Maurice

after the supernova

making sandcastles

out of stardust

~Eavonka Ettinger

discarded gift bags, once full, lay empty now.

~Julie A. Dickson


stolen from the front yard

Christmas spirits

~Eavonka Ettinger

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