Evening of December 6, 2023

 

 

winter solstice

old age and me

dancing

~Stephanie Zepherelli

dementia —

mother gives me

a new name

~Mona Bedi

elderly penitent

all the sins he wanted to confess

forgotten

~John J. Dunphy

sixty-eight years

the last puzzle piece

still missing

~Stephanie Zepherelli

ink blot the pause in our conversation

~Mona Bedi

rolling thunder the promises i didn't keep 

~Mona Bedi

hedgerow magic the rabbit runs deep

~C.X. Turner

butterfly effect how everything matters

~Mona Bedi

Autocarrot

 

I sent myself an email reminder

about a collection of essays

called Junk Shop Window,

a book I’d promised to review.

 

In the Subject line I wrote: ”jsw.”

Gmail figured it knew what I meant

better than I did, changed it to “jaw.”

 

Sometimes the corrections

these autocorrect programs make are welcome.

Sometimes they are just ducked up.

~Charles Rammelkamp

in the mist

a silver talisman

fast disappearing

~C.X. Turner

under skeleton trees

abandoned tires

at peace

~Patricia Carragon

water flows fast and slow

always to the lowest point

I've been there, with wet feet

~Steve Van Allen

butterfly wings --

i tell my daughter

she can fly

~Mona Bedi

thirty-one flavors

dad samples them all

on his birthday

~Stephanie Zepherelli

I am adept

at adopting

apt appellations

and adapting

them to things

~Charles A. Perrone

heat wave

the feet of the statue

dance on the asphalt

~Daniel Birnbaum

cumulus clouds

i too am made

of water

~Mona Bedi

not sorry

the freedom

in saying

just that

~Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

Morning of December 3, 2023

This Poem Is a Process. Whatever Else You Read Today Is This Poem.

~Noah Berlatsky

the sacrifice

of forests

Christmas gift wrap

~Wanda Amos

giving tree –

Santa arrives

on a purple scooter

~Bonnie J Scherer

jingle bells

time to bring out

our gay apparel

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

no one to fill my stocking but myself I become Santa

~Jennifer Gurney

Salvation Army shelter home for the holidays

~Jennifer Gurney

Christmas Eve

red and green lights at

the intersection

~John J. Dunphy

My yoga mat is rolled up by arthritis and bad knees.

A fractured wrist put winter walking on my deranged list.

My head is full of migraines and a gallon of caffeine.

I'd like to change my age back to a time

when all that mattered was a peanut butter sandwich.

~Nolcha Fox

he was briefly remembered for having elegant penmanship

~Patrick Sweeney

writing –

my style changes upon hearing

a siren

~John J. Dunphy

pen to paper

the feeling of

pure release

        - poetry

~Ann Christine Tabaka

in his glad rags, he was comfortable on his own bed of nails

~Patrick Sweeney

though they were only a myth, it was a relief when the winners cashed in

~Patrick Sweeney

the obligation of pumpkin pie

~Patrick Sweeney

the day the candlenut tree introduced herself

~Patrick Sweeney

whatever will I do with this déjà vu

~Patrick Sweeney