Carmela Marino
my first forty years-
contemplating the leaves
swallows
cobalt sky-
the moon takes me
deep down
rain footprints-
nothing belongs to me
of this world
Mary Cresswell
In Sumatra or maybe Sulawesi
mountains explode
whole oceans spew and subside
Clouds of ash wash into
glorious sunsets and,
to the joy of poets, a rufous moon
Fresh faultlines race down ledges
course over old borders
to redefine the colours of thought
The bones stay behind, scraped white
in tidepools, degrading into sand
to clean survivors’ hands
Maria Concetta Conti
winter
asking the stars
to bring you home
wintertime
believing in love
again
winter
keeping a journal
of her dreams
Douglas J. Lanzo
lifting my spirits
golden-beaked eagle
soars overhead
even the ice
creaks with delight
cinnamon cider
exuding wonder
rainbow halo
circles the moon
Monalisha Gogoi
village monastery -
between me and Buddha
deepening silence
emptiness ...
the fleeting sounds of
migrating birds
gliding
over the silver oaks ...
cold moon
Roberta Beach Jacobson
the moon
does not have to worry
what phase
it's in tonight because
we will gaze no matter what
offering
my heartfelt apology
too late
I whisper as maple leaves
fall on her gravestone
she paints
herself out of the corner
but pauses
to see who will help paint
her back into her comfort zone
Bryan Rickert
misty sunrise
the banter of geese
in tight formation
first crocus
cracking the snow
your blossoms
living on
in your children
coming downstream
the unsteady path
of ducklings
Joy McCall
the Crone of the Woods
the blackthorn tree is dark and bent
its thorns are sharp and straight and thin
but oh the fruit, the purple sloes
fermenting in the gin!
the 'crone of the woods' leans drunken
her black-burned skeleton stark
leafless, still she twists and turns
clutching at the dark
her icy heart holds no pity
the old staff strikes the ground times three
the devils come up from the fire
and gather round the tree
the pins of slumber pierce my hands
I keep my grip, I bear the pain
the torment falters, weakens, dies
and slowly fade the stains
the blackthorn tree is dark and bent
its thorns are sharp and straight and thin
but oh the fruit, the purple sloes
fermenting in the gin!
water sign
I think of the rain that might fall
one day when they lay me to rest
deep in the ground in the dark woods
where the old hawthorn grows
all my days have followed water
the north sea ebbing and flowing
the great lakes where the wild loons call
the inn by the river
it is no wonder that minnows
sing to me from white cloud mountains
that crabs come sidling up to me
on the sandy beaches
even the big-eyed frogs come out
from the rushes on the green pond
and stare, while I read Ryokan
under dripping willows
Maed Rill Monte
Birthday expenses another strand of white hair to color
Mood gardening
breaking ground for fishbones
in history-rich soil
Sitting lotus-poised
a bee's side track
misses my ear
Bruce Gunther
Autumn moon -
Reading light
for pumpkins
Sparrow
ends moth’s
maiden flight
Carpet of leaves -
maple sheds
its robe
Chen-ou Liu
a night of stars
our first love stories
by campfire glow
a bomb crater
where makeshift tents once stood ...
the snow moon
the dark side
of a winter moon
the fading face
of my high school sweetheart
in and out of a dream
Neena Singh
homecoming...
the cuckoo unfolds
a long-lost song
a peacock's call
will you come
tonight?
indigo sky holds
the crescent moon--
her tentative smile
Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo
dreams in turmoil the labyrinth of the wind
And I offer
And I offer you my side
Don't tear it apart with yours
ravenous wolf teeth
Helpless I dress myself in light
not to attract the shadows
of a Saturday night
dedicated to the game of death
I dreamed of a wine
I dreamed of a wine
black as anxiety
that gushes in streams
from the windows of the heart
The veins bare branches
tangles of absences
that still continue
to pulsate empty
I dreamed of a wine
black as anxiety
and the stars of two eyes
on the hills of Ireland
Old abandoned newspapers
news to the rhythm of a waltz
that no longer belongs to me
in the dream of distances
I dreamed of a wine
black as anxiety
and the stars are now dust
on the hills of Ireland.
Zahra Mughis
a creamy
flower bud
latte art
empty chair
by the fireplace
no more stories
through the mist
sparkles a shade of blue
February sky
Eva Joan
passion
i write it ... i read it
then i delete every single word
next try
at night ... alone
only the moon in my window
and me
ice breath
unspoken words
exhaled into cold winter air ...
they disappear in silence
without any echo
weightless like fog
above the folds of the sea
grain of sand
between all these stars
i would merely
be a grain of sand
would get lost
if i could not see
the love in your eyes
Tiffany Shaw-Diaz
in the past
i have known peace
but this night
is full of storms
without relief
a small
tendril of moonlight
what if
i held my pain
like a treasured lover
i know
the darkness will return
but
for this moment
i have found peace
Debbie Strange
the year that was
mask debate
the wasps inside
my mouth
lockdown
a song sparrow offers
mother's eulogy
isolation walk
I wash my hands
at water's edge
quarantine
the silent scolding
of squirrels
travel ban
a jet on the runway
of my mind
social unrest
we drive into a tornado
of tumbleweeds
Taofeek Ayeyemi
village river a frog jumps into the full moon
frog pond a blue heron breaks the silence
mare's tails --
the farmer shearing off
bales of wool
Pat Davis
midnight
our toes touch
the moon
twilight
we rename
the stars
today's gift
the sway of a seed bell
and bluejays
Michael H. Lester
rattle my bones
like a pair of lucky dice
toss them hard
against the alley wall
pray dear boy, pray for rain
bury my bones
in a virgin forest deep
cover the mound
with seeds of giant castor
and that is where I’ll sleep
she hangs there
from a makeshift noose
the young mother
a wailing infant at her feet
hush little baby, don’t you cry
Mark Ward
uncut summer grass
edges round the soccer pitch -
a first attempt beard
oaks await the hush
in a street free of feet
finally speaking
sunset he cruises
the docks wanting the sea
to crash against him
M.J.Iuppa
Clear sky--
blue, seemingly
empty, yet dust swirls up--
vortex of restless indigo,
shifting
Casting,
net of starlings
soars over sea of wheat–
quicksilver shadows disappear–
whirlpool
Lullaby
Head tucked,
one mute swan sleeps
against the rock of waves.
Feathers ruffle in wind’s cradle.
Daydreams.
Nancy Rapp
solstice
the sun is also
fogged in
november grasses-
sparrows ride up and down
chirping
downward facing dog-
the view so different
from this age
Oluwasegun Oluseyi Adesina
April Fool's Day --
the fugitive poses
with mannequins
staring
through the car's window . . .
spring blossoms
election time
the government revives
abandoned projects
Ben Gaa
afternoon sun
the distant crack
of a baseball bat
leaves
and the smell of leaves
october wind
street side cafe
the waggy shaggy tail
of a stranger’s dog
Antoni Ooto
The Hours
Before your last steps
when the time comes, and it will…
Pen your poem
as if it were the only reason you came.
Walks on Gibson Road
The first sounds of oaks and pines
void of description
wash over me
patient, without words.
Mike Wilson
Life
OMG!
WTF?
LOL
RIP
Mirror
She poses as a cupcake
hoping he will take a bite
taste a human being
Calculus
Each discreet act and thought
a number precisely calculated
Creation’s unfathomable will
places the decimal point
Tunde Adesokan
sun shower
raindrops running down
the sinew of a mechanic
rainstorm
our legs paddling
against the current
dewdrops
sanitizer dripping
off the hands
Dave Read
a day off from work:
I plan
to sleep in
the late morning fog
of a dream
the night sky
fills a puddle
with stars…
I reflect on
the depths of time
during the lockdown
traffic is quiet…
a plastic
cup rolls
down the street
Maya Daneva
pandemic winter
the Welcome mat
deep under the snow
hiatus
my high school sweetheart’s
friend request
off key
her happy song
after the pandemic curfew hour
Nisha Raviprasad
morning rush-
I remind myself
to breathe
on the bridge.....
the moon closer
than you
lazy sunday-
I blow dandelions
into the wind
Steve Black
i sink
into my winter coat
another
final demand
drops onto the mat
the street preacher asks
if i'm ready for judgement day
i ask him how's he doing
he doesn't have time
for small talk
her children
riding high in the top 5%
one an olympic hopeful
the other at medical school
she doesn't ask about mine
Helga Stania
above the clouds
striding lightly soundless
the wind now and then
a rustle a bird song
stitch the images to a tattoo
on the inner skin
foehn clouds
reddened
by evening light
a falcon
on the pylon
rests in himself
Giuliana Ravaglia
alta sulla montagna
la prima stella del mattino
regale astro celeste
come attimo eterno scintilla
high on the mountain
the first morning star
royal celestial star
as an eternal moment spark
nell'assorto silenzio
vagano ombre chiare di luce
sogni esuli e lontani
scarabocchiano il crepuscolo
in the absorbed silence
clear shadows of light wander
distant and exiled dreams
scribble the twilight
ruzzolava negli occhi
un tafferuglio di nostalgia
ma improvviso nel vento
l'oro addosso dell'imbrunire
it tumbled in the eyes
a row of nostalgia
but sudden in the wind
the gold on dusk
Mike Gallagher
mortuary card
the lies of a life
unlived
a gust of wind
caressing her lips
a blown kiss
wake house
prayers for the dead
a beehive hum
Jamie Wimberley
night storm --
the old record
skipping a beat
heat lightning
the white eyelid
of a woodpecker
handwritten
her birthday notes to me
deer tracks in snow
Janice Doppler
old cookbook
grandmom’s aromas
now mine
post-surgery walk
the scent
of fallen leaves
sea-soaked stump…
a cormorant
spreads its wings
Hifsa Ashraf
deep scars
of the medical mask
empowering
the beauty I hold
in my compassionate heart
the flurry
of snowflakes
shedding
the burden
of this anonymous pain
owl’s hoot
outside the ward
when we offer
our deep silence
to the cold wind
Billy Antonio
a stream
of thoughts
the long walk home
abandoned barn
the endless chirps
of crickets
the scent
of twilight lingers
ylang-ylang blossoms
Joy McCall & Steve Wilkinson
the little weed somewhat battered
by night rains and falling leaves
still lifts her white head to the light ...
can I not do the same?
lift your head above the storm
see the orange sun circle the sky
offer up a prayer to heaven
and rise like a phoenix
lighting the mulled wine candle
we use it as a prayer at dusk
for the ones we love so much
who face struggle and loss
the jasmine scented candle flickers
as I read poems late at night
whisky from the Highlands warms me
banishing fear and fright
she takes two books from my shelf
to carry to her distant land -
the old - Alice in Wonderland
the new - Deirdre of the Sorrows
all the disappointments of life
that we hide away in our hearts
let faith, love and peace be our guides
the promised land is near
in the quietness of woods
and fields and ruins, I hear
the whispering of holy truth -
God's voice in leaf and stone
the lazy river below the bridge
gave water for the hillside monks
now the crumbled stones hold nothing
but the memory of their prayers
Steve Wilkinson
they sought God in a wooded dale
day after day an austere life
spring growth and autumn leaf fall
they ate they slept they worked
now we are pilgrims in a way
seeking peace in ancient ruins
touching the stones that they once touched
craving heavenly peace
Sovereign Lord of all creation
hear my prayer on bended knee
grant me light to see my pathway
give truth to set me free
Christina Chin
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K.E.V. Trocmet
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Lavana Kray
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Sherry Grant
Stashed Away locked in times of uncertainty elegance from last century life-long dedication to art quietly stashed away afternoon tea invitation prepared for two best friends, simple pleasures came to be abandoned her untimely demise in this house, even the dogs are unhappy, clearly feeling the pain from their owners, constant fear like there’s no tomorrow tired of a world of little hope tedious life in which people with no trust in one another reflected in her eyes just another number for the grim reaper, final destiny with no escape, no matter how glorious life might be comforting words, despite her own fear, “were you frightened, little one?” voices trembling, attempting to regain her composure © Amos Chapple Photography *Dedicated to Miriam Kaubers (great niece of artist, currently residing in New Zealand), and Amos Chapple (photographer originally from New Zealand) who took photos of these amazing artworks in Prague © Gertrud Kaubers (Czech Republic, Jewish artist died in Holocaust) artworks, among 700+ canvases stashed away in her friend Natalie Jahudkova’s house in Prague for fear of discovery by Nazi Germany. Her friend took this secret with her to grave, these paintings were only discovered during demolition of the house in 2018 https://www.rferl.org/a/murdered-jewish-artist-paintings-kauders-nazis-prague/30858168.html |
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