Morning of October 9, 2022

Rain on the walkway.

Dogs with no

wish for wet.

No sun.

No play.

Dogs on the couch

until dinner.

~Nolcha Fox

gangly spider

climbing the firewood

in for the winter
 

~Ron Scully

wolf spider

in the shower curtain

what does he eat?


~Tom Blessing

weather cock

the last sheep joins

the bandwagon

time to watch

the big leap

off the cliff

~Daya Bhat

gnawing teeth

inside the crawlspace

sleepless

~Eavonka Ettinger

crocodiles—

pretending to be rocks

on river rocks

~Rupa Anand

deer moon

all there ever is

is a lie and a line
 

~Daya Bhat

pair of pigeons

I point the cellphone

to shoot

~Daipayan Nair

clockwork bloodhound follows a simple syrup trail,

through a boy's ribs the November wind blowing
 

~Richard Magahiz

tiny dancer spins on a rhino's horn
 

~Eavonka Ettinger

flea + flea = two
 

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

sand fleas

between the pages

light's tide turns

~Ron Scully

this fleabag or that


~Roberta Beach Jacobson 

Morning of October 4, 2022

daddy long legs

a committee

of movement

~Mark Gilbert

old house –

a pair of crows

on the swing

~Daipayan Nair

monster under the bed her favorite toy

~Eavonka Ettinger

emperor moth I dream with four eyes

~Minal Sarosh

bite of the flea October

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

Transylvania

an exorcist shining

his cross

~Anna Cates

Frankenstein

knew how to

revive the party

~Eavonka Ettinger

I keep lying: yes, I think I can live


yes, I am inspired by heartwarming stories

of people I have never met

and hopefully never will

who have survived

terminal illnesses

that are not mine


yes, I hate death


no, I am not here


no, I am not writing this down

~Miriam Sagan

dashed hopes the end of her ellipses

~Kelly Moyer

beach flea

burrows in the sand

threat of war

~petro c.k.

ticks for lunch

fleas for dessert

possum

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

                                                              
                                                  ~Keith Evetts

Curse

Our family graves are filled

with aunts, uncles, cousins

all struck down young by heart attacks,

that genetic earthquake lurking

in our DNA, waiting to implode.

As candles dim, I tell my husband,

when I go, cram the porch with chili peppers

for how I used to be.

~Pris Campbell

blinding me

the golden tooth

of my neighbor

~Minal Sarosh

bird solo cut short

the tape player

ate my cassette

~petro c.k.

 

 

struck a star

like a piñata

–sunburst

~Eavonka Ettinger

 

Afternoon of October 3, 2022

tribal land

a blind elder gleans

the enigma


~Anna Cates

Days Gone by

the senior citizen contemplates

her existence in an aging diner

fork suspended over a wilted

three-dollar side salad – droopy

iceberg lettuce, ragged shredded

cabbage, some slivers of carrots –

all drowning in a cheap dressing

she wonders what happened to her

endive and radicchio, honey mustard

candied pecans, sugared cranberries

~Marsha Warren Mittman

 

 

in the movie    the vegetable man plays himself

~Patrick Sweeney

 

injustice mothers losing sons
 

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

 

racism when do we stop pretending


~Roberta Beach Jacobson

 

 

whitewash of many colours
 

~John Hawkhead

You don’t see me.

My face is scuffed.

Ignored again.

A stray post-it. 

A scribble stuck to the floor.

Trod upon.

Faded ink.

Faded life.

~Nolcha Fox

 

Afternoon of September 29, 2022

double espresso

we trade our faith

for turtlenecks

~Kelly Moyer

My muse

is gone, she left a note

that she went shopping

with the girls.

I hope I didn’t send her

on another bender.

My writing might be much worse

than I think.

~Nolcha Fox

Fourth of July

On this, most patriotic night,

my head is clear,

my vision full

of Roman candles

and crackling rain.

I play Hendrix.

I breathe smoke and gunpowder.

We turn the moon the color of flames.

~Lauren Scharhag

not the clouds

time passing -

the moon

~Chittaluri Satyanarayana

       don’t talk about

until starts to show

       colonists

~Jerome Berglund

Arsenic

For a price,

chef’s secret ingredient

will do away

with anybody.

So scrub the kitchen floor

all you want,

a murder scene

never dies.

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

I found a spaceship

in the toilet,

floating with a deck

of cards.

I laid them all out

on the couch

then dried them with

this poem.

~Nolcha Fox

kismet a galaxy of fruit flies

~Kelly Moyer

trying not to

step on toes

clown shoes

~Thomas Tilton

we're all waiting

wondering when Mother Earth

spanks us

~Stephen Jarrell Williams

Afternoon of September 27, 2022

semaphore signs of little progress

~John Hawkhead

trade winds of small change


~John Hawkhead

can't settle ...

restless leg syndrome

the ants nest in my bed

~Karen Harvey

they are special guests

succulent

right to the bone

~Richard Magahiz

wall poster

a big face

with no manifesto


~Daipayan Nair

carrying signs

we oppose whatever

we oppose

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

dream state of the nation

~John Hawkhead

annual

May Day parade

calicos in tanks

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

erratic path a satellite state

~John Hawkhead

Evening of September 26, 2022

once in a blue mo(o)nster

~Lorelyn De la Cruz Arevalo

walk at dusk

the same stranger

at every turn

~Arvinder Kaur

30 years dead

Still haunting the same places

~Steve Van Allen

frosted pumpkins

an abandoned home groans

with trespassers

~Anna Cates

Edwina
  
Applies

Deathly  

Gaze  

Before  

Eating 

~Richard Magahiz

reaching out

to window ledge

gargoyles

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

poems about war

bleed from my pen

I thought

Vietnam was the only one

to break my heart - silly me

~Pris Campbell

Hallway

I am haunted by hallways. If you were to pop open

my skull, you’d find an endless maze of gray nowhere

corridors. I am inhabited by lobbies and tunnels,

airport terminals and empty shopping malls. It’s a

common fear. We are unsettled by these perpetual threshold

places, where we stand hesitating, never becoming, never arriving,

because there is no thread, no way out of this labyrinth, and at

the center of ourselves is the beast we have to face, or not.

~Lauren Scharhag

       the circles

of condensation

       on underside of glass table

harder to wipe away —

wherefore art thou royal

~Jerome Berglund

The Moon Doesn’t Ask

why I’m here in the halls of midnight.

It recognizes kinfolk, someone who knows

what it’s like to always be on the downward slope

of the teeter-totter. We are both made of other people’s secrets. To soothe others

we had to be this collection of debris,

not born, but bezoars excreted from

unimaginable creatures.

~Lauren Scharhag

A Few Martinis

over drinks

she spills

her drink

over drinks

he spills

state secrets

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

no-tell motel

keeping their secrets

… fleas

~Thomas Tilton