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