Morning of February 13, 2025

 

                                                    Rebirth

                           ~Kelly Sauvage Moyer

Meat house

Someone sewed marble fear

Into a transparent belly

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

Not wild,

not precious. What

will I do with my life?

I just have to wait here for the

zoom call.

~Noah Berlatsky

losing a bar fight…

all the nuts on the floor

~Sharon Ferrante

The Nature of Politics



uneasy the crowns

balanced on rice plants growing—

buckling when it storms


~James Penha

waving

to the flock—

the desire

not to follow

the wrong bird

~Sharon Ferrante

strangled by the winding road peepal tree

~Tejendra Sherchan

silent stones skip the deep

~Elliot Diamond

those things I shouldn’t eat a yellow submarine

~Sharon Ferrante

her gaze undoes me from all possibilities

~Vijay Prasad

dastardly the days he writes in all CAPS

~Sharon Ferrante

crowded alley so many ways life is unfair

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

The door to the house is closed. Forever.

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

my neighbor says I lean too far to the sunset

~Sharon Ferrante

Is it Valentine's Day, is it not?

The day is bright without any pretension and demand.

Beloved, is it Valentine's day, is it not?

~Partha Sarkar

my dead cat's water bowl

now just half-full

from evaporation

~John J. Dunphy

Take me

To the final page

Closure

~Sarah Mahina Calvello

What am I waiting for

Besides the end of the world?

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

 

Evening of February 12, 2025

 

blue dolphin parade

padding the far corner

of her cartwheel

the squawk of a squid

~Robert P. Moyer/Kelly Sauvage Moyer

ninja skills

new heights

the screen door

full of holes

~Jean-Paul Moyer/Kelly Sauvage Moyer

crocus pocus

false spring

i mistake my mitten

for a daffodil


~Heidi McIver/Kelly Sauvage Moyer

Aubade

I rise from slumber

and I am

not happy about it.

~Noah Berlatsky

in our land

enough flowers to offer gods

which outnumber us

~Tejendra Sherchan

1 PM

Surrender

Control

Over

Time’s

Clutching

Hold.

~Thomas Skahill

uncleaved our souls under death’s hammer

~John Hawkhead

hearse story at the end his story

~John Hawkhead

compressed morbidity not much fun either


~Ruth Holzer

innocence flailing under stinging hail marys

~John Hawkhead

through a maze of back alleys the locked library

~Ruth Holzer

it's not so much

that I want to go there

but I want to be

the sort of person

who wants to

~Ruth Holzer

last stitch

mother

bites the thread

~Ruth Holzer

had I married

my heart's first choice

I'd be

widowed now

instead of divorced

~Ruth Holzer

interfaith dialogue

all the preachers

shouting at themselves

~Mike Fainzilber

we are all

on death row

nuances may differ

~Mike Fainzilber

running on water

the slow ones

tend to sink

~Mike Fainzilber

‘tis the season

trash-talking

the trash

~Mike Fainzilber

his trump card

the gulf between

fiction and reality

~Melissa Dennison

Haikuniverse is asking for Valentine’s Day haiku (or micro-poems). 

Hurry, deadline tomorrow!

https://haikuniverse.com/valentines-day-project-call-for-submissions/

Afternoon of February 8, 2025

confessional

the poet marginalised

in ink

~Joanna Ashwell

Poetry Sale

meaning

two for one

~Noah Berlatsky

five o'clock shadow / uncle haiku is asleep / whiskers no difference

~Charles A. Perrone

provocat(eur)ive

thought provok(ateur)ing

~Jerome Berglund

bonbons a-go-go

morning after

a stray sequin languishes

on the tip of my tongue

~Heidi McIver/Kelly Sauvage Moyer

the BFG

facing the window

of fairytales

~Joanna Ashwell

component moon

the oral history

of mousetraps

~Jerome Berglund

absence of doubt

the poisoned chalice

we swallow with a yawn

~Robert Witmer

Narcissus

Stone white lilies

Too good for truth

~Sarah Mahina Calvello

turning off the news

sick of all the lies

I struggle to breathe

~Jennifer Gurney

a certain

sociopathy that

checks boxes

~Jerome Berglund

Two comrades

Reminds me

The frightened pariah-dog

That I am also fleeing.

~Partha Sarkar

dissolvable sutures

heart of stone

cupid aims

for my womb

~Terri L. French/Kelly Sauvage Moyer

ribbon

man's invention

of a butterfly

~Tejendra Sherchan

migrating birds so long since they learned how

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

a touch floating on a lazy lake

~Vijay Prasad

solar wind chimes cosmic karaoke

~John H. Dromey

he {{stereo}} types 75 words a minute

~Keith Snow

reminding us of unfinished business bookmarks

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

bedeviled eggs

breaking news

the chili butter

fears deportation

~Terri L. French/Kelly Sauvage Moyer

skating rink

slipping on something

more comfortable

~Jerome Berglund

 

 

 

Morning of February 6, 2025

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

midnight––

their car doors sounding

like divorce

~Robert Epstein

crushed seashells

glisten in moonlight

the shapes of pain

~Stephanie Zepherelli

Valentine decision

to hell with it

she Dear Johns them all

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

invisible webs

caught in lies

we tell ourselves

~Stephanie Zepherelli

 

 

 

the romance

I thought would last forever

now washed up

awaiting

the next tide

~wanda amos

frogs on fire

white lies

pants sizzle

in an old pond

~Roberta Beach Jacobson/Kelly Sauvage Moyer

dejà vu

it’s turtles

all the way down

~Joshua St. Claire

his last request

a packet of cigarettes

in his coffin

on his grave

a tobacco bush

~wanda amos

snuck cigarette

the end

we never expected

~Joshua St. Claire

birdshit

denied nomination

as if a poet

were no more than his tail

~Jean-Paul Moyer/Kelly Sauvage Moyer

if

only

poetry

could

drown

out

~Noah Berlatsky

October night––

the cricket gets in w/o

a background check


~Robert Epstein

an old woman

with headscarf and pearl earring

looks back at herself

~Wendy Beach

just now a girl's

long headscarf crossing:

the light changes

~Sherry Reniker

ordinary nori

embracing the chip

in her chopsticks

expired squid salad

~Heidi McIver/Kelly Sauvage Moyer

gas station fried chicken

a methhead smiles to reveal

the crescent moon


~Joshua St. Claire

black plastic trash bag

by the side of the highway

the who’s-in-it

~Joshua St. Claire

Send your short poems to noon poetry this month!

https://noonpoetry.com/guidelines/