Evening of December 8, 2023

 

alternately

all who wonder

are not lost

~Eavonka Ettinger

the fish

in the eagles' nest

still twitching

~John J. Dunphy

a tiny red mite walks

across my words

critics everywhere

~Tom Blessing

A Bee Stings Her


A bee stings her

I smash it to powder

her pain I now share.

~Fhen M.

mistletoad

~Susan Burch

Replacing The Obelisk With A Bevel Marker

I am observing

… the Chameleon…

caught Colour-Changing

… by an Echo-Whisper…

at the Tail End of Leaving.

~Paul Tristram

will there come a time

when all my poems

will have been written?

~Jennifer Gurney

Constitution of meaning

The existence of life for the sake of the existence of the grave

Beyond the grave —

Nothing from which

Everything began

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

(Originally published in Slant)

my attempts to rizz are risible

~dan smith

brain training to stop brain draining

~Patricia Hawkhead

unloved days hiding in my hobbit hole

~Susan Burch

 

 

Update: Your fleakeeper will be ready to announce the 2023 Touchstone Award nominees for

Five Fleas Itchy Poetry early next week! The list of favorites is now down to 61, but only 30

poems can be nominated. 

Evening of December 6, 2023

 

 

winter solstice

old age and me

dancing

~Stephanie Zepherelli

dementia —

mother gives me

a new name

~Mona Bedi

elderly penitent

all the sins he wanted to confess

forgotten

~John J. Dunphy

sixty-eight years

the last puzzle piece

still missing

~Stephanie Zepherelli

ink blot the pause in our conversation

~Mona Bedi

rolling thunder the promises i didn't keep 

~Mona Bedi

hedgerow magic the rabbit runs deep

~C.X. Turner

butterfly effect how everything matters

~Mona Bedi

Autocarrot

 

I sent myself an email reminder

about a collection of essays

called Junk Shop Window,

a book I’d promised to review.

 

In the Subject line I wrote: ”jsw.”

Gmail figured it knew what I meant

better than I did, changed it to “jaw.”

 

Sometimes the corrections

these autocorrect programs make are welcome.

Sometimes they are just ducked up.

~Charles Rammelkamp

in the mist

a silver talisman

fast disappearing

~C.X. Turner

under skeleton trees

abandoned tires

at peace

~Patricia Carragon

water flows fast and slow

always to the lowest point

I've been there, with wet feet

~Steve Van Allen

butterfly wings --

i tell my daughter

she can fly

~Mona Bedi

thirty-one flavors

dad samples them all

on his birthday

~Stephanie Zepherelli

I am adept

at adopting

apt appellations

and adapting

them to things

~Charles A. Perrone

heat wave

the feet of the statue

dance on the asphalt

~Daniel Birnbaum

cumulus clouds

i too am made

of water

~Mona Bedi

not sorry

the freedom

in saying

just that

~Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

Morning of December 3, 2023

This Poem Is a Process. Whatever Else You Read Today Is This Poem.

~Noah Berlatsky

the sacrifice

of forests

Christmas gift wrap

~Wanda Amos

giving tree –

Santa arrives

on a purple scooter

~Bonnie J Scherer

jingle bells

time to bring out

our gay apparel

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

no one to fill my stocking but myself I become Santa

~Jennifer Gurney

Salvation Army shelter home for the holidays

~Jennifer Gurney

Christmas Eve

red and green lights at

the intersection

~John J. Dunphy

My yoga mat is rolled up by arthritis and bad knees.

A fractured wrist put winter walking on my deranged list.

My head is full of migraines and a gallon of caffeine.

I'd like to change my age back to a time

when all that mattered was a peanut butter sandwich.

~Nolcha Fox

he was briefly remembered for having elegant penmanship

~Patrick Sweeney

writing –

my style changes upon hearing

a siren

~John J. Dunphy

pen to paper

the feeling of

pure release

        - poetry

~Ann Christine Tabaka

in his glad rags, he was comfortable on his own bed of nails

~Patrick Sweeney

though they were only a myth, it was a relief when the winners cashed in

~Patrick Sweeney

the obligation of pumpkin pie

~Patrick Sweeney

the day the candlenut tree introduced herself

~Patrick Sweeney

whatever will I do with this déjà vu

~Patrick Sweeney