Afternoon of December 21, 2022

bananas so green

even the Grinch

won’t take ‘em

~Bonnie J Scherer

Christmas market

the pigeons' frenzy

on the pavement

~Françoise Maurice

churchyard

the irreverence

of pigeons


~Keith Evetts

Triolet Found in John Donne’s “The Flea”

mark but this flea

this flea is you and I

is more than we

mark but this flea


apt to kill me

since thou purpled thy

mark but this flea

this flea is you and I

~Joshua St. Claire

Flee or Flea Bitten

Love my house usually,

until uninvited pests descend

nest in wait to bite ankles and cats,

awake at dawn, turn vacuum on,

spray once more, last time

I hope, but likely not, once fleas

have found their spot, my rug

infested as they say, might be easier

to move away, flea bitten

or flee

~Julie A. Dickson

recounting

his 17 lives

polydactyl cat

~Joshua St. Claire

Afternoon of December 18, 2022

drifting clouds

after all these years

my father’s handwriting

~John Pappas

eye to eye

we meet

in silence

~Katherine E Winnick

cinnamon tea

the past comes

to life again

~Barbara Anna Gaiardoni

Catharsis

The day you left, I threw up

stardust and wildflowers,

big fat gulf oysters,

zydeco and Chicago blues.

Just when I thought

I was empty,

out came a sprig

of baby’s breath, stilled

on the journey out to sea.


~Kelly Moyer

scratched vinyl a degenerative disc disease


~Kelly Moyer

buried in the footnotes a half-remembered smile

~John Pappas

unicorn hunting a three-way potato

~Kelly Moyer

the art of loving an oil-based pigment

~Kelly Moyer

now when she writes a love letter I

~John Pappas

rotten apples

eliciting

an inspirational quote

~Kelly Moyer

and everything smells like rotting meat

~Barbara Anna Gaiardoni

the squirrel

playing chicken

on the road

one too many

— times

~Linda L Ludwig

em dash

the crows fly in

to roost

~John Pappas

for once

in this poem

a crow is just a crow

~John Pappas

low-country christmas

the warmth

of a biscuithead kitten

~Kelly Moyer

night cry

the tendrils of

a shredded star

~John Pappas

of myself a sliver of ginger root or moonshadow

~Kelly Moyer

at the base

of the shrine

the prayer of ants

~John Pappas