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

Morning of December 17, 2022

blinking so quick

perhaps what’s left of us

of the insect

~Daniel Birnbaum

breathing into

her own bubble...

another orbit

~Kavita Ratna

shadow

move with the sun

i myself

~Nani Mariani

five thousand mile flight

the goose in me

takes wing

~Harrison

improvising

expressing his feelings

through the plectrum

~Mark Gilbert

ache

(intransitive verb) 1a: to suffer a usually dull persistent pain, the way my teeth ache when you smile sweetly at me, and I know that means you’re lying. Again. 1b: to become distressed or disturbed (as with anxiety or regret) because I suspect you slipped and fell into another man’s bed. 1c: to feel compassion for that poor schmuck who doesn’t know he’s tangled in your web. 2: to experience painful eagerness or yearning that you’ll prefer the taste of your new love, and suck the life out of him. Instead of me.

~Nolcha Fox

winter storm

frozen solid

with anxiety

~Kimberly Kuchar

there is too

much dust

to glue myself

together

~Luke Brannon

Captive Elephant

Legs thick as tree trunks on concrete

Wonder how freedom might feel

Gray beast sways in sorrow

~Julie A. Dickson

uniforms this prison or that

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

Spitfire circling my sinews remember the war

~Mark Gilbert

broken glass

the festive spirit

of the cat

~Kimberly Kuchar

proud of his scar

he doesn't like to talk

about it

~Mark Gilbert

another gray sky

selecting

a funeral outfit

~Kimberly Kuchar

bagpipes playing

today she meets

her ancestors

~Kimberly Kuchar

Morning of December 15, 2022

silence is a voice too

~Joseph P. Wechselberger

coffee house open mic

poet's reading hissed by

the espresso machine

~John J. Dunphy

seventh of Advent

locked in his snow globe

Santa Claus

~Françoise Maurice

Near Genius

is like going to the amusement park,

without an all day pass

you see the blinking lights,

hear laughter

and everyone assumes you

are having a great time

except you

can't ride the rides.

~Keith Snow

each dust mote theoretically could be a world

~Joseph P. Wechselberger

misunderstood sasquatch hides among the tiny toads

~Joseph P. Wechselberger

          Puzzled

Why we have so many cross-

words, a KenKen of emotions

that never gets solved

I add one and one

you get eleven.

A jigsaw where we need

to fill in the missing,

pieces, only you

can put in place.

~Keith Snow

the last twist

of a wheel brace

sunset

~Daipayan Nair

To Be Human

We are all Medusa now,

heads sprouting wiry

snakes and eyes

that dare not open

to the world lest

we see how fate

has turned our ❤️s

to stone.

~James Penha

Year went terribly.

Much cold.

Little wealth.

Beyond fragile.

The supreme

achievement:

rest.

~Jessica Swafford

alley wall

a chalked epitaph above

the dead derelict

~John J. Dunphy

Evening of December 12, 2022

The earth is scorched

with scorn. This life. So brief.

What good are ashes after death?

Gobbled by the ground.

Returned. No refunds.

No survivors.

Forgotten. Faded photos

in a box.

~Nolcha Fox

loud air

thick with war demons

Ukrainian rescue

~Anna Cates

rigid timetable

a troop train returns

its bodies

~John Hawkhead

missile strikes

an exchange student

halves the last bagel

~Anna Cates

Watch and Prey

Turned to prey, as blood sacrifice

soon to be offered on the steppe,

like war, when masses in the church

find more wary crowd to the pews;

so on the pampas, prairie, veldt,

as some will graze while others watch,

uneasy stirring ripples through.

My skin so creeping, fleas about.

~Stephen Kingsnorth

brick kiln –

arranging my labour

in rows and columns

~Daipayan Nair

stranded vessels the clasp of ice

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

a hill of ants

within each hill

an ant hill

~Rupa Anand

heartwarming

she places his valentine

in the fireplace

~Robert Witmer

heat haze

swift screams cauterise

polythene air

~John Hawkhead