Autumn – A Poem by Rebecca Cowgill
autumn dusk
floating on waves
broken daisy chains
Clutter of Time – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha
Now there is no use
telling those stories
dipped in black ink
water sprouts nowhere
as those stories are in
trance of no time.
Birds heave
clutter of time.
Amongst Extroverts – A Poem by Ian Fletcher
A pack of hungry hyenas
they would pry her open
to consume what is inside
they who have no interiors
who must feed off each other
yet remain ever unsatisfied.
What she possesses within
would not survive outside
in the open where they dwell
though what they need she has
to quell that inner emptiness
they cannot completely hide.
She perceives the void beneath
their noisy exteriors, smiling
inwardly while they orbit around
pulled but repulsed by her gravity
a closed book to these lost souls
forever circling never nearing.
Lament of Fishermen – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha
Blue river of compassion
how those waves open
unfurl into righteous men
riding your waters
crescent moon and the hill
on other side mourns
lapping waves, cries of the seagull, lament of fishermen
in an island that is sinking.
Aging – A Poem by J.K. Durick
There’s not going to be that moment, we’ve all had them,
When a doctor tells us that it’s all just a common cold or
Gas pains or merely an imbalance of the humors that will
Correct itself with time, or we can exercise and diet back
From what we thought was the brink. No, not this time,
This time, time becomes the bad guy, exercise and diet
Its close followers; now the aches and pains add up, stay
With us, our worlds become a bit smaller every day, we
Become one of those people we remember from our youth,
Those people who always mention their ailments as if they
Were essential to their identity, slower steps, smaller meals,
Elaborate plans for a calendar that has little more to do than
Mark more time spent. Getting older is built in, there’s no
Escape, no cure, no way to recuperate, no moment after, when
Things are back to normal, when we step out once more with
A new spring in our step and things are back as they were.
Birds – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha
Leave me alone in this
seascape
of wilderness, crouching wind
blues, little ragamuffin of a boy, entering sleepless
in corridors of home, pine hills and summertime of
frisky birds.
Last Link – A Poem by Rozann Kraus
I wanted half
would settle for a third
was unprepared for such bypass
cardiac surgery with complications
mea culpa could not resuscitate
but years of talk chemistry helped
really?
Define real
ly
cancel the controls
ignore the meetings
return the keys
erase the memories
forget the victories
empty your pockets
hang your head
or it will be removed
along with the contents of your locker.
Astaire and Ginger Dancing – A Poem by Donal Mahoney
Old Tim writes poetry now
in his heaven of retirement.
He’s had nice jobs
over the years but swears
retirement is better.
He’s forgetful now but never
suffers from writer’s block.
The words come so fast
his fingers fly like eagles
across his IBM Selectric.
The sound of a typewriter
is a concert for Old Tim.
When he types he swears he sees
Astaire dancing with Ginger Rogers
on a small black and white TV.
Says colored sets are a fad.
He would never own one.
He’d rather type and watch
Fred and Ginger dancing.
More at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com.
In Memoriam – A Poem by Ian Fletcher
Many a day I pause to think
of those who have passed away
to become nothing but ashes
as insubstantial as a handful
of sand or dull clumps of clay,
with even the humblest creatures
that animate the world around me
like the ants, butterflies and bees
possessed of more life than they.
Oh, that the deceased left ghosts
at least there would thus remain
some vestige of them to be seen
or that there were a high heaven
where their souls dwelt eternally,
not this complete annihilation
with no salvation or damnation
for these who have ceased to be
that now haunt only my memory.