Afternoon of May 17, 2023

 

local shaman

those rusty nails and needles

suddenly

~A.J. Anwar

Swallowtail butterfly

Halloween colors

can you last until October?

~Steve Van Allen

borders of

my country etched

blood red

~Kavita Ratna

Anxiety

 

a thought, like liver --

   nose, offended; taste buds, assaulted.

a rhythm, but the dancers are off-beat.

a rash, stuck in the itch-scratch cycle.

 

it makes my hair stand on end

   like little, naked trolls from the ‘60s.

it’s what I feel when I can no longer breathe

   behind my mask of extroversion.

~Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

roadkill vultures at my funeral

~Kelly Moyer

pelvic exam the curtain rises on a cabaret

~Kelly Moyer

nostalgia tuning the beauty shop violins

~Kelly Moyer

coffee mug

I smell

my residue

~Daipayan Nair

regret

I wish I had

an edit

~A.J. Anwar

dark nebula

what the asshole poet

knows of love

~Kelly Moyer

Evening of May 15, 2023

when you left

I was outside

shattered—pulling

shards of glass

from my feet

~Sharon Ferrante

Zumba

getting the feet right

my hands go wrong

~Rupa Anand

Looking up I see

Brilliant full moon shining bright

That explains a lot

~Jennifer Gurney

summer heat

granny’s rocking chair

still creaks

~Sharon Ferrante

Brushing my teeth I

Wonder what the tooth fairy

Is doing right now

~Jennifer Gurney

late night

a drainpipe bent

from shimmying

~John Pappas

bourbon

water croutons

stirred not shaken

~Linda L Ludwig

declassified as a planet the maple seed takes root

~John Pappas

 

 

null hypothesis H0 model train

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

not prepared to give up buffet guests

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

feeling leafless the anxiety of alphabets

~John Pappas

patchy fog

the gaps

in her alibi

~Andrew Markowski

Welled Eyes

As if in consolation the sun cautiously appears over the hill and shines on the twisted beds,

abandoned trees, and old appliances the floods scatter in the muck which was once the yard.

The water in a hush slowly trickles under the twisted remnants of the dwelling house.

~Dennis Williams

another school shooting a movie in his mind

~John Pappas

I drown

become a barnacle

stuck now

~Sharon Ferrante

Afternoon on May 15, 2023

 

space opera

the rise and fall

of our diaphragms

~Jenn Ryan-Jauregui

fear of falling - once more

i cross that wooden bridge

of my childhood

~Wanda Amos

I won't

have

been

in my present

future

back then…

~Richard Magahiz

Gen X Birthday Haiku

Let this feeble poem

mark the day I should have died

thirty years ago.

~Chad Parenteau

hospice bed —

I check to see

if ma is still breathing

~Debarati Sen

full moon

mixing more white

into the indigo

~Wai Mei Wong

progress bar — the stormfront must rebuild

~Richard Magahiz

sleeping pills —

for her dreams were

a safer place

~Debarati Sen

slicing through

glass-slick dark

schools of bananafish

~Richard Magahiz

tapping

on my kindle

a grasshopper

~Daipayan Nair

Death Dressed up in a Mardi Gras Mask

 

Death seems to lurk around every dark hidden corner this week,

like a thief in black wearing a creepy mardi gras mask,

waiting for his chance to steal the last breath of my stepfather,

and wave his trophy of Oscar gold,

having already proved his swiping prowess,

by taking the last breath of Philip Hoffman,

with his poison needle.

~Deby Cedars

scratching his mosquito bites

my neighbor tells me about

last night's meteor shower

~John J. Dunphy

office party —

she identifies with the

corner plant

~Debarati Sen