Traffic – A Poem by Rebecca Cowgill
a motorbike
zips through traffic
with my passing years
Autumn – A Poem by Marie MacSweeney
September creeps along anarchic grass.
In our garden plum trees bend
to the earth, each branch
a frail skirmish
across briars and barriers,
naked warriors
accepting no natural defeat.
It is autumn
and we have come
to gather in the fruit,
eat in our orchard,
think God is good,
but there are wasps and worms
feeding, and we have our own wars.
Swirl – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha
Swirl
in the whirl
rabbit is coming,
hop stars and all
hop the jump,
there are little stars in your
eyes, the benighted dog howls, addressing the full moon
rabbit is arriving, this man is ploughing land,
another is raking blood.
61 Is Fine By Me – A Poem by David Lohrey
Is 61 old?
It is my birthday and I called my mother.
She said how are you? And was disappointed when I replied just fine.
“Are you happy to be getting older?”
Happy?
Does one have a choice?
Is it getting older or getting younger?
If one is 60, one becomes 61 or 59?
No, it’s 61 or dying.
Getting older is fine by me.
I’m happy with another day.
When you’re 11, you can think getting older
Is not for me. I’ll marry mommy and be young forever.
I’d prefer older and tomorrow to
Staying young today and tomorrow.
Getting older and older is fine by me.
The alternative is dying, not getting finer.
The Phantom – A Poem by Ian Fletcher
My past is a gray phantom
that haunts me wherever I go
hoarding all of my memories
and the people I used to know
a specter who countenances
no resurrections at my bidding
from his dark abysmal vaults.
He feeds on my experiences
thus gaining strength as I age
weighing on the here and now
annihilating what is to come
the pull of his gravity drawing me
backward into a land of shadows.
One day soon he will envelop
me completely in his darkness
and we shall be extinguished
at the very moment of union
into everlasting nothingness.
Pharaoh – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha
Saw you somewhere in the abyss
centuries, age, did not matter, the sphinx somehow
bore the stone, heavy weight of launderous, byzantine stone,
rubric of history
saw you somewhere there
you, gentle as a Pharaoh.
The opposite of Everything Is True – A Poem by Stan Morrison
The opposite of everything is true
just look around for telltale clues
corporations don’t pay their share
hard work and talent get me nowhere
it’s just the same in every town
poverty and hatred still abound
we hallucinate on the American dream
while a small number get all the cream
unions are evil but not the banks
it’s time to vote and I say no thanks
we’re all on treadmills getting nowhere fast
how long do you think slavery’s gonna last
the revolution will not be televised
Overcast Sky – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha
Amphitheatre living in lull
break the hull
break the hull
once upon a time Romans
were gladiators
above skies we have
man eaters
break the hull
take out the lights
smash into smithereens
overcast sky.
Cold Water Raining between Them – A Poem by Donal Mahoney
Annie has a nice washing machine now
but she remembers the one her
mother had with the wringer,
the old-fashioned kind.
Her mother took in washing and when
the washing machine would break
Annie would become half the wringer.
Mother would hold the waist of wet pants
and Annie would grip the cuffs and
they’d twist in opposite directions,
the cold water raining between them.
Each pair of farmer’s pants
put food on the table. With six kids
food was important. To this day Annie
smiles when she remembers her
Mother never had to use a pants
stretcher in winter to make
her ironing a little bit easier.
She’d hang the pants out in the yard
and they’d freeze straight on the line.
More at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com.
Birdsong – A Poem by Nancy May
birdsong
wakes my dreams
broken branches
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