Morning of May 25, 2024

 

 

enemy soldiers stationed on an island

sailed a motorboat to a local bar

at the end of the world

~Fhen M

battle fatigue a spoonful of jam or two in the smallest cup

~Alan Summers

somewhere in the southern mountain

a Hollywood actor used a binocular

to measure the speed of a fake enemy ship

~Fhen M

warring neighbours

the oak and banyan meet

over the wall

~Ranu Jain

child warriors Molotov mocktails

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

summit—

the diplomat adds rum

to her coffee

~Sharon Ferrante

The Argonaut Octopus Detaches his Loaded Arm

Socially distanced sex makes babies too.

Masks optional.

~Cheryl Snell

how did it feel

dear moon

the rocket on your skin?

~Ranu Jain

weeding

in the herb garden —

it’s not rocket

~Mark Gilbert

Curtain Call

Summer concert in the round. 

Mad applause.

Reviews noted that

no mosquitoes survived.

~Cheryl Snell

skeletons rose from a forgotten graveyard

no fresh flowers were offered to the dead

~Fhen M

The 30th Month

the waiting room crosses over

its magazines updated

its puzzles solved

an inner hurricane

by the sunset

black new moon

all our names pass

through shadows

~Alan Summers

what does it matter antimatter anyway

~Mark Gilbert

They this They that They are Whoever you want Them to be

~Mark Gilbert

We Leave a Screening of Real Genius When Someone Yells Fire

...and we’re running

past extinguishers and alarms,

watching the theater explode with popcorn,

kernels rising into the damaged sky 

like so much applause.

~Cheryl Snell

Afternoon of May 22, 2024

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Commitmentphobe

~Kelly Moyer 

Photography available here

 

 summer squall

a sudden flurry

of fast food napkins

~John Pappas

Manunggul jar ferries a soul

to the land of the dead

~Fhen M.

forgotten veteran of a

forgotten war buried in a

forgotten cemetery

~John J. Dunphy

closing time

barfly exits through

the restroom door

~John J. Dunphy

he escapes by sea

she adjusts

her monogram

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

pauper's burial

his eulogy delivered

by cicadas

~John J. Dunphy

dinner at the mall

savoring leftovers

from trash cans

~Surya Nes

white clover

the field fills with

the om of bees

~John Pappas

picnic for two

now three…

the robber fly

~Elliot Diamond

evening chill

on the welcome sign

faded paint

~John Pappas

I think I could be happy

if only I had no ambitions.

But here too I have failed.

~Noah Berlatsky

the fiercest of battles

may the best dragon win

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

he pledges his

allegiance to the spice rack—

deviled eggs

~David Cox

a self-inflicted hidden agenda

~Patrick Sweeney

wait, what am I trying to say?

~Fhen M.

people who think they know a short cut

~Patrick Sweeney

funeral hymn the dust on model planes

~John Pappas

she has me on a 30-second delay

~Patrick Sweeney

once upon a twice

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

it's really all just an excuse for woolgathering

~Patrick Sweeney

The Construct

~Kelly Moyer 

Photography available here

 

 

Morning of May 20, 2024

 

high-rise balcony—

a potted plant leans

towards the edge of escape

~Nalini Shetty

The Alternate Universe Routine

William S. Burroughs

does stand-up

Lenny Bruce

writes novels

WSB doesn't kill his wife

Lenny never gets arrested

~dan smith

Revenge of madness

Little gophers of construction in the palm of hopes


Guns screamed

The end of all roads

We swam out to drown

The only prospect is waiting

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

(Originally published in Tipton poetry Journal )

One or two glowworms

The squinted looks

Throughout the day.

Where should I flee?

Comes the evening.

I hide behind the undergrowth.

There are one or two extinct glowworms.

I get shelter and save my identity.

~Partha Sarkar

counting flower petals thinking about Ophelia trying to stay sane

~Joana Figueiredo

crushing my eyelids together my refusal to cry

~Joana Figueiredo

mad woman

casting ashes to the wind

grieving myself

~Joana Figueiredo

You don't come home

You don't come to the neighbors

You don't come to me

You don't come to your senses

You can't take out the trash

You don't clean your ears

Looks like I died

Inside your head

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

(Originally published in Tipton poetry Journal )

dead black beetle

inside Angel’s Trumpet--

a blissful death

~Tejendra Sherchan

dragging my legs home

all my flickering lights

about to go out

~Joana Figueiredo

all the way to Mars

Fido dreamed of the wind

on his face

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel

one more asteroid

nudged across Earth's orbit

dirty pool

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel

So Here We Are

under the bright moon

tearing apart this sheep

our partners

and bare-skinned children

toss in their beds

dream of monsters

with human faces

and long sharp teeth

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel

The Ghost of Phil Ochs Floats Over Lincoln Park Like Tear Gas

four days in August 2024

fifty-six years on

~dan smith

At last dies every day the innocent

At last died the innocent.

It had been suffering for a long time

Perhaps from helplessness

Or one of its souls might be broken by Time.

However I put it on the grass by the dustbin

And despite being sad, I wait for another tonight

With my companion - the sad note of saxophone.

~Partha Sarka

empty nest

in a bead tree—

egg moon above

~Tejendra Sherchan

milk moon

her tender gaze I drink

almond beverages now

~Madeleine Kavanagh

wi-fi signals

connecting everyone

yet not connecting

~Nalini Shetty

this poem

will not be written

by anyone because the author

will go to the supermarket for vodka

and never come back

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

(Originally published in Tipton poetry Journal )

crowded subway—

our eyes meet and then retreat

alone together

~Nalini Shetty

A bird doesn't know it's a bird.

A stone doesn't know it's a stone.

Like them, I know who I am.

~Noah Berlatsky

watercress

every time I open the fridge

there you are

~Madeleine Kavanagh

Morning of May 18, 2024

 

~Jerome Berglund

the alloy steel hips

pitched well forward

the groomsmen

checked for

perpendicularity

~Richard Magahiz

my mistress' eyes

are nothing like

fuel pellets

~Richard Magahiz

in tissue temples  pasteboard altars

~Richard Magahiz

there could have been

only the one sun

but no

~Richard Magahiz

glass, vodka-clear,

slicing gold with a

bamboo edge

~Richard Magahiz

Dark purple, deep purple, adolescent angst

Dark purple, deep purple, menopausal freedom

Say what comes into your head, no filter, no mask

Don't think twice, follow your heart, no need to ask

Dramatic colour of ritual and rite

Dramatic colour stolen in the night

No pastel tones, no wishy-washy clones

In your face, purple is no disgrace

~Olinda Ninolakis

old age

like adolescence

home by nine

~Chris Collins

Hope stealers

They pluck the sun

right out of the sky

~Angela Evans

Poetry trigger

Middle of the night

nausea

~Angela Evans

Barbie love

Women rule

in a dream house

~Angela Evans

urban birdsong

harmonizing with

traffic

~Jennifer Gurney

horns twisted by some strong half-god

carabao lies on the grassland

~Fhen M.

when, invaders, are, near,

they may run

~Fhen M.

when proper channels

have been diverted...

connect four

~Jerome Berglund

solar flares

tinfoil

on the tube

~Jerome Berglund

blues harp

different kinds

of flight risk

~Jerome Berglund

 

Afternoon of May 16, 2024

 

The Overlord

~Kelly Moyer
 
Photography available here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

spring storm—

the dialogue interrupted

by a short circuit

~Nicoletta Ignatti

flea

it danced it here now there again

and sprang its music deep upon me

i speak i speak i speak i speak

sucking out a sip of me for it to live

a fat disgust a hot sink drowning

a crushing between fingernails

i this god dispense

in answer to its helpless daring

while i this flea am honoured here

in answer to my need

and worse and worse expect it

~Harry Owen

Springtime spiders, cute and small,

skitter up the hallway wall,

kitchen counter, kitchen chair,

weft their webs within your hair.

~Terry Trowbridge

red traffic light

sitting behind the motorist

a zip-tied barbie

~Tuyet Van Do

dry gin the empty quarter in my mind map

~John Hawkhead

 

 

in the desert (when I stop thinking of it) an oasis

~Arvinder Kaur

 

 

carbon credit to absolutely no one

~John Hawkhead

clothes shopping —

the men in dire need

of a woman

~Maurizio Brancaleoni

I see a silent film star

working in a shop

She tends the till, wraps the gifts.

She looks up slightly to the left

never straight at me.

Her skin is celluloid

The day is black and white

~Sarah Davies

GPS tells me

I am on the fastest route

to perdition

~James Penha

deserted island

i'm not

a man so maybe

i'm an island,

hopefully a deserted one;

i don't want people

walking all over me.

~linda m. crate

no wonder the lily

blooms just for a day

this world of men

~Arvinder Kaur

BE WARNED

if you’re

sitting by yourself

in a coffee shop

and reading

something by

Thomas Pynchon

I cannot be

responsible

for my

undivided

attention

~John Grey

 

Closure

~Michael Lee Johnson