Afternoon of November 16, 2022

hospital hallway

the difference between

a wish and a prayer

~John Pappas

stuck at the bottom

he tries cutting corners

square peg

~Robert Witmer

 

time salts our pulled hare

~Robert Witmer

we grow togather then to meat
 

~Robert Witmer

 

her work involves measuring coronal mass ejections   you two should get along
 

~Patrick Sweeney

 

family matters

mowing down

the faerie ring

~Kelly Moyer

 

looking both ways before crossing is not good enough anymore


~Patrick Sweeney

memoir writing the perspective of a survivor heroine
 

~Kelly Moyer

 

he always came home with rain on his shoulders


~Patrick Sweeney

 

pebbled clouds

a map as good

as any

~John Pappas

fall showers

that old sitcom

theme song

~John Pappas

Morning of November 15, 2022

Quantum Existence


Like a quantum system

you only become real

when you are observed

Until then

you are but a wave of thought

A supposition

waiting for acceptance

of your existence

~Norman Cristofoli

Pick and Choose


Uneasy when I can’t define,

unsettled by these creeping taunts,

I cannot pick forever itch -

so I’ll just have to leave them be -

a complement to take of course -

and I must let them live on me,

shinbone and ankle, seeping calf

but hope that they’ll not take the knee.

~Stephen Kingsnorth

flash flood —

nervous fire ants

walk on water

~C.F. Tash

crab grass

the urge to itch

her new tattoo

~John Pappas

No Sex Poem

There is nothing sexual about this poem

All the orgasms were fake

The perspiration was sprayed on

The moans of ecstasy were pre-recorded

The only ejaculation was in our imaginations

Nobody had to take any pills for prevention or erection

All foreplay came directly from the liquor store

 

There is no sex in this poem,

but it sure fucks around with words

~Norman Cristofoli

eleven plus two

same letters

twelve plus one

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

between victim

                 and survivor

the absence of vowels

~Kelly Moyer

Evening of November 14, 2022

You are a misguided

missile, target lost

or simply vanished.

you are a lost

soul aboard a bus

that wanders midnight

streets in search of

heaven or hell.

~Nolcha Fox

in a gnaw

from dusk til dawn...

beaver moon


~Pat Geyer

muscle memory

this listless pull

of Ravel

~Mariel Herbert

cobwebs–holding onto the family secrets


~Mona Bedi

five elements the dichotomy of control

~Mona Bedi

matrimony the snap of a garter snake

~Kelly Moyer

monogamy all the missed chances

~Mona Bedi

acts of the apostles the color of sunlight


~John Pappas

metrognomic

~Mariel Herbert

oblivious

of the beauty of the world

the cockroach

~Françoise Maurice

nowhere

in the dream dictionary

kangaroos on the bus

~John Pappas

Evening of November 11, 2022

plunging into the gravity well of another holiday season

~Patrick Sweeney

hollow words echo well

~Robert Witmer

old marble quarry

I leap into

the unknown

~John Pappas

bad poetry implementing the contingency plan

~Kelly Moyer

 

made in the image I poem a moon

~John Pappas

engine english where does the kigo

~John Pappas

 

 

Anatomy of Poetry

A poem is not a structured creation of words

Words are not a defined compilation of letters

Letters are not the strokes of pencil on paper

Pencil and paper are not a composition of molecules

Molecules are not the organic formation

     of atomic building blocks

and atoms are not the result of compounded energy . . .

 

Nevertheless, energy is the consequence of the poetic mind

 

~Norman Cristofoli

there’s

no money in poetry

they warn

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

 

iambic however suggestible in somniloquy

~Kelly Moyer

Morning of November 11, 2022

Five Fleas (Itchy Poetry) has nominated these two works for a 2023
Pushcart Prize (Poetry). Congratulations to Robert Witmer and petro c.k.!

Wherefore Art Thou, Earth?

What is the temperature

of Mercury? What cars do they drive

On Mars? Are they stupider

On Jupiter? More taciturn

Where Saturn turns? More in tune

In the heart of June

With the fourteen moons

Of Neptune? And is Pluto no more

than a dark Venus

in Uranus?


~Robert Witmer

Boop!

I booped

a Boops boops

(B. boops)

Boop boop!

The

Boops boops

booped

back

~petro c.k.

Evening of November 6, 2022

They say

Absurdism is dead,

but I swear

I saw him swimming

in a rain puddle

ten years into

a seven-year drought.

~Kelly Moyer

opening the curtains

November

closing the curtains

~Keith Evetts

a wasp dies

in my glass of cranberry

 first of November

 ~Françoise Maurice

mother’s intuition

over maxwell house coffee
and all the fixings
and toasted cinnamon raisin bread
sagging under heaps of no salt butter
i knew i was dying she said bluntly
as she sawed a piece of toast in half
like a butcher attacking a carcass

~Jeffrey Spahr-Summers

a sandglass –

grains of wisdom

in Ravel’s Bolero

~Diana Teneva

stuffing the turkey

with uncertainty …

 
family reunion

~Bonnie J Scherer

red wine

the autumn leaves stagger

in the wind
 

~Françoise Maurice

a van Gogh sky one helicopter


~Joseph P. Wechselberger

domination the length of her lashes

~Kelly Moyer

crushing the clouds into the sunshine


~Mircea Moldovan

rainbows the DNA of unicorns

 ~Joseph P. Wechselberger

you are more than enough

ink on the roller

~Kelly Moyer

suburban street

a naked neighbour flings a gnome

through the glazed front door

~Keith Evetts

accomplice

he shoves a rusty crowbar into my hands

i want you to climb up on the roof
tear up some of the shingles
make it look like storm damage

he guides me to the battered
aluminum ladder leaning against the house

hurry before a neighbor sees you

~Jeffrey Spahr-Summers

whatever you are

I fear

from the last one

full moon

so

I'm going to sleep

with the first empty dandelion

~Mircea Moldovan

this is where

I came in

...

through

kafenio's doors

~Michael Kingdom-Hockings

tongue of crow

an itch the witch

can't reach

~Chad Lee Robinson

juxtaposition

the leaps

of her lemur

~Kelly Moyer

bonfire

that day i torched all the poetry

i was a sick but determined man

i was looking for liberation like

the great bra burners of the 60s

in pajama bottoms at high noon

i dragged out the olive trash can

gathered up 29 years of poems

every one i could lay hands on

doused them with liquid starter

struck a match and tossed it in

~Jeffrey Spahr-Summers

godless month

dissolved in rain

wounded civilian

~Anna Cates

modernity

mistaking the chimera

for a paper doll

~Kelly Moyer

refugee camp

in the crook of her arm

rag doll

~Anna Cates

After the Rain

We sit alone across the table,

unable to account for the storm

driving through our lives like tourists

slowing to point at the sight of us.

~Jeffrey Spahr-Summers

cookie jar

nothing is beyond the reach

of ants

~Sankara Jayanth

ant + ant = two

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

doorbell...

i get back to the dinner table

to find an ant

occupying my chair

~Sankara Jayanth