Morning of May 12, 2024

Psychic Grief

diehard pessimist

her spirit animal

is a dead duck

~John H. Dromey

the latest fashion

a search for identity

in a differential equation

~Robert Witmer

a dragon bone?

the little girl returns

a curtsy

~Randy Brooks

Yellow press or gutter newspapers

Custard, mustard, lemon meringue pie

Book pages yellowed by the heat

Yellow spots on the mirror's surface

Yellow sun full of midday beach time glamour

Yellow moon risen to brighten nighttime pallor

Yellow skin sickened by jaundice

Yellow fingers stained by tobacco

Yellow Hockney crocs my word

Yellow is wonderful and absurd

~Olinda Ninolakis

Alas! war is not responsible

Fleeing poor in the election.

A weak and sick crawling kitten in democracy.

It rains after the prolonged heatwave.

Yet a mixed fleeing- Will an innocent get a perfect green cottage?

An eternal conscience!

I suffer because of the lack of green.

Alas! war is not responsible for that.

~Partha Sarkar

Doubt Sourcing

A.I.dentity crisis

~John H. Dromey

the contrasts

the symmetry

but Shane

never comes back

~dan smith

walk-in clinic

already seated in the waiting room

my one-night stand

~John J. Dunphy

Poison Pen Letter

venomous words

in tightly-wound cursive coils

waiting to strike

~John H. Dromey

                     stillpoint

                a brief refuge . . .

            in the hurricane eye

~Stephanie Zepherelli

a child

the cat

catastrophic

collapse

her community

~Wanda Amos

afternoon sun

a monkey family

grooming each other

so delicious

the fat fleas

~Wanda Amos

the wheel without the sun one could be

~J. D. Nelson

dandelion parking the drive-in theatre

~Randy Brooks

parakeet angle you redundant you

~J. D. Nelson

gurgling brook who’s a good baby stream

~Susan Burch

grain chain the world after next

~J. D. Nelson

campaign logic as strong as an oxymoron

~Robert Witmer

that name suddenly one hundred prowling frogs

~J. D. Nelson

flapdoodle morning

making my way

to malarkey

~Susan Burch

Afternoon of May 8, 2024

 

constellation, an endless source of food

my pocket as empty as my stomach.

~Fhen M.

in spite of it all

student debt

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

Listen

If you carve a poem on a tree in a forest and

the tree falls on you and

you and the tree decay together over a hundred years.

Mushrooms grow out of your eyes.

Mushrooms grow out of your eyes.

Mushrooms grow out of your ears.

What was I saying?

~Noah Berlatsky

circling

their cubicles

customer service reps

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

the crispness

of his meat skewers…

al Dante

~David Cox

I am Orion & with my dog

hunt meat & fish in the sea of stars

~Fhen M.

Loving you 41

In

a

coal

mine

the

canary's

last

breath.

~Matt Borczon

Loving you 26

the

truth

only

dogs

know

~Matt Borczon

Loving you 22

wishing

it

was

easier.

~Matt Borczon

Loving you 11

screaming

into

an

empty

church.

~Matt Borczon

Morning of May 8, 2024

tornadoes in a rain forest

hurricanes in a desert

murky muki

~dan smith

this isa

sorta true poem

about art where

it comes from

what it's for

nothing

i can answer

in under two decades

apparent

ly

~Scott F. Parker

Children's Games

             

            Vanilla or Chocolate?

            Chocolate or Strawberryy?

            I don't want any of these.

            I want Caramel which is never offered.

            It's been a life-long habit--

            always wanting to reframe

            the problem, the issues, the choices,

            whatever.................

~Karen Klein

   o u 

s        p

in      us 

     it

~dan smith

hard-won fortune

pissing against the pub wall

an errant heir

~Mike Gallagher

Poe, a tree!



There! Look!

Behind you!

To the left and to the right!

Ahead and above!

Inward and beyond!

~Scott F. Parker

cemetery wind

a lifetime of wishes

blown away

~Mona Bedi

The early bird

gets the senior spaghetti special

at Luigi’s, 4 PM sharp.

~Nolcha Fox

lying here

wondering whether

it's the outer thigh

looking up

or the inner thigh

looking down

I'm feeling

it really doesn't matter

now that we've reached

a certain age

~Mike Gallagher

dancer pigeonholed

as too old

bitter lemons

~Karen Klein

it's raining

in the poem

about rain

and the

one

about that

too

~Scott F. Parker

northbound geese

a neon open sign

flickers

~Mariel Herbert

first to flip the switch / next to absorb the colors / neon light special

~Charles A. Perrone

all those languages we do not know for a start birdsong

~Mike Gallagher

past the life we led before we led our lives

~Mona Bedi

Dusk falls, new moonlight, stars, planets and hope arise.

~Keith Snow

note from the mass grave

thankfully

we were not the killers

~Mike Fainzilber

Evening of May 7, 2024

7.951 billion people on trash day

~Patrick Sweeney

searching for a phrase in the snowy ash of my burned-up journals

~Patrick Sweeney

suspicious behavior...he's circling the violets again

~Patrick Sweeney

the witness said he was counting the petals on a rose when shots were fired

~Patrick Sweeney

Webbing

Among more than 4,600 kinds of spiders

We belong to the one that knits a single web

Throughout its lifetime, throwing out all

Its silk, not to catch flies or insects, but

To contribute to the making of a shroud

~yuan changming

maple tree bangs

against my window

a cry for help

~Patricia Carragon

hospital dinner

i ask for soy

and hot sauce

~Tom Blessing

after surgery

one perk

warm blanket

~Tom Blessing

self-driving car

ignores the suggestions from

its backseat driver

~John J. Dunphy

May's heat

the first cicadas

emerge

~B. L. Bruce

Cicada’s Secret

You expend your whole lifetime in soiled darkness

Only to sing a single song high up on a tree

At the sunniest moment of the season. Though too

High-pitched, too mono-toned to the ear, your voice

Sounds like heavenly music to someone that can not

Only recognize you from myriad others, but remain

Your true soulmate until the end of the day

~yuan changming

blue hour

ships passing

silently

~B. L. Bruce

freedom

out of small crack

the chick

~Satyanarayana Chittaluri

barking

in the door gap

a shadow

~Satyanarayana Chittaluri

noise cancelling:

airplane engine droning

drowns tinnitus

~Morag Elizabeth Humble

when the noise stops

silence, once longed for

is deafening

~Jennifer Gurney

Sound of Fury

In this vast

Valley full

Of red dust

Each noise

Is an echo

Of what has

Been muted

As a protest

Or warning

~yuan changming

solitude . . .

my loud thoughts dilute

into the forest floor

into the cloudy sky

and the path ahead

~Anthony Lusardi

packed train

a passenger sits

shaving her legs

~Tuyet Van Do

woolly caterpillar,

I'm down to the log

you were sleeping on

~Patrick Sweeney

first snake sighting

I put away

my winter coat

~John J. Dunphy

Here in This Antlike Moment

Here in this antlike moment

Arise my spirits

Illuminating my own shadow

They’re up against the dark cloud

Ready to join in a heavy storm

Shooting like a thunder

Now I see the unlimited sky

Besides the cracking light

Now I know my fate

~yuan changming

looking skyward

lifted by your graceful flight

I grow wings

~Jennifer Gurney

 

Afternoon of May 4, 2024

an innermost bear

draws his claws along her skin

and brings forth blood.

 

it spills, hot, red, river-running.

 

the bear, gently, draws his tongue along the wounds

and she is cleansed

~isabella mori

spidery old apple tree

you and me

            gnarled

~isabella mori

scratchy socks

thrice darned they’ll have to last

until the babe is born

~isabella mori

mailman –

the irritated nostrils

of the doberman

~isabella mori

played in my head the Gymnopédie No. 1

trudging aimlessly

on maze-like streets of the city

~Fhen M.

on a rooftop, I talked to the full moon

requesting her to return to my arms.

~Fhen M.

whispering wind telling me about the moon

it was meant to last to caress lost souls

~Oana Maria Cercel

left the hive sweet home scent disappeared

~Oana Maria Cercel

Fast train

the door opens

to perpetual life

~Oana Maria Cercel

In this place, there’s

old & new,

order & disarray,

variety & then the mundane,

evidence of winter & spring among the

hand-me-downs & discards surrounded by

brokenness & near-perfection.

Where is this place?

My closet or my life?

Like & vice versa are the former & the latter.

~Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

Over The River


The covered bridge

flashes a strobe vision

of a primordial cave

before releasing us

to grandmother’s house.

~Diane Webster

Glee Tumbles


The three-legged chair

invites pedestrians to rest

then tumbles them out

in a wobbly guffaw

like Dad did his girls

when he pushed them

in the wheelbarrow

then tumbled them out

in arms, legs, hair

screaming in glee.

~Diane Webster

Night Eyes


Into the night two lamps

stare like beasty eyes

caught in a flashlight beam

then gone in a blink

and wondering where

they are now.

~Diane Webster

Pier Bones


The spine of the pier collapses

into a jumble of bones bleaching

into the hope of fossilization

in the river’s solid silt

encasing a wooden mummy

awaiting discovery,

awaiting reassembly

of ooh and ahh!

~Diane Webster

Moment of Gone


The crevice shimmers vertigo

of false landing only a step

away; a staircase descends

one stair at a time

each step safe and secure

against granite cliffs

until the step

that never ends

while you’re still alive

in a moment of gone.

~Diane Webster