Morning of November 24, 2023


 when she's around you half expect a yellow canary to fly into the room

~Patrick Sweeney



mermaid 


they called me mermaid 

because i answered

the call of the sea,

but they never heard her;

i guess that's why 

they don't understand

my depths.

~linda m. crate 



ultrasound

my inner world

on the display screen

~Arvinder Kaur



coping with cancer —

the nail polish brighter

than last time

~Rupa Anand



too much


i was always told i

was too much by 

people who i thought

could be more,

if you should ask me

the only thing there's too much

of is: bombs, genocides, wars,

cruelty, malice, indifference, and greed.

~linda m. crate 



until they crawl in next to you   the sorrows of the world

~Patrick Sweeney



ravages of war

the straight face

of AI anchor

~Arvinder Kaur



autumn sky —

this desire to return

to the womb

~Debarati Sen



no money in poetry

no poetry in money

this is not a poem

nor money neither

~Noah Berlatsky



dark river

an oar scoops dead fish

in its spoon

~Rupa Anand



goddess 


you thought yourself

a god who could

mold me into your image,

you were surprised

to find i was a goddess

who could sculpt myself

into whatever image that suited me.

~linda m. crate  



dowry demands —

dad curses the day

I was born

~Debarati Sen



Smile

Body language continues our argument.

Uber guy says, “You ladies should smile more,

pretty girls like you.”

“What about the uglies─ should they smile, too?”

My sister sits up perpendicular, bares her teeth and growls.

The driver crashes into a STOP sign, slurring the word “Stop”

as if it too is skidding.

~Cheryl Snell



she doesn't want me to throw away the small pieces of soap

~Patrick Sweeney



moon shadow cognitive dissonance
~Jennifer Gurney



the inner jewelry of old telephone wires

~Patrick Sweeney



on the other side of sadness anger

~Jennifer Gurney



kissing the piggy that had roast beef

~Patrick Sweeney



I remind the moon

and all to wear a mask—

covid is waxing

~James Penha



solar noon

the donkey claims the win

for himself

~Françoise Maurice



stillness

in the room

even silence has a sound

~B. L. Bruce

No comments:

Post a Comment