Whisper | David P. Carroll
The sun shining bright
Over the garden hill
As we sit together
Hand in hand
Gazing into your
Beautiful eye’s
I kiss you,
And Whisper
Softly,
I Love You….
a poem
Short List | Maggie Beck
They have told me
I’m on the short list.
Problem is,
I think they are just
feeding me a line.
Easier to say we have
you in mind
than to close the door.
I do this all the time.
As in,
Oh, I was going to call
you.
Rebel | Ananya S. Guha
Heresy assails the mind
like a downward spring.
after that — catcalls.
Don’t be a heretic, they will
stamp you over. Just make
few noises of disbelief, in your limousine. They will believe, you are the true rebel.
Phone Call | Valley McGrath
Avoiding
the phone call
Avoiding
looks and sounds of others
I exist tucking my face
away from everyone
If I concentrate hard enough
it is like they disappear.
There You Go | Izzy Noon
There I go,
You go, we travel
hand in hand
upon slats of light
dancing and twirling
beyond what
others call a universe.
Dream Man | HR Creel
In dreams
I am master planner
With perfect responses
I know the right answer
Have all the right moves
Then I wake
To the evolving me
Blaming shaming me
Wanting to nod back off.
Four Corners | Nate Maye
One corner to
the next, we find
pieces of the future,
gluing them one
to the other,
a portrait mosaic,
a complete image
out of small parts.
Sparring Partners | Roger Still
We are two
shadows who have
barely met, yet
somehow aware of
each other,
We tangle in the dark
of our minds.
Alone with My Loneliness | NilavroNill Shoovro
During the periods of stipulated flashbacks
Memories may not always be smooth or soothing
The pages of the wary calendars
Under the color of my melancholy ink
May not forget nor forgive the pain
Yet I would love to be alone again.
My heart will never burst into laughter
Nor will cry in rain
Flashbacks of the scenes may not survive
With all the clocks in my hand,
For they are the silent warriors
Dead, but fought in vain.
The next day is always so crucial
Fighting against all the odds
Yet the motion seldom walks along
With our dreams or feel at home in accord.
If you think you win or it is a defeat for me,
All the days are numb, crying silently
Morning brings nothing but wary nights
Passions grow old from everyday fights,
Let me put it straight for ages to come;
Not time but moments may matter to some.
Madame Mystery | Edgar Law
With fingers
made of children’s
dreams
a face like a dark
half moon
a voice like Stevie Nicks
she’s either
a talented beggar lady
or a mystical being
weaving spells.