Choices | Chris Byrne
They make us
Who we are
Decisions become
Part of us
It’s our integrity
That sets
Us apart
From the
Rest
deep poems about life
Pieces | Renee' Drummond-Brown
Bit by bit
they broke me.
Shards can’t be fixed.
Shattered pieces
fragments within
parts of illusions
faced down
smiles far less than
artificial frowns.
They broke me
mid-flight.
Smithereens
fell down
restoration
can’t be found.
They broke me
can’t be fixed
itty bitty
pieces.
—–
Dedicated to 7.
—–
Renee’ Drummond-Brown, is an accomplished poetess/writer. She is a graduate of Geneva College (CUBM) with experience in creative writing. She is working on her fourth book and has numerous works published globally. Her love for creative writing is undoubtedly displayed through her very unique style of poetry. Renee’ is inspired by Dr. Maya Angelou, because of her, Renee’ pledges “Still I write, I write, and I’ll write!”
Old Songs | Nalini Priyadarshni
Nothing ever dies
It only changes
Into something else
Like old songs
That blow gently
Into new ears
To find new meanings
—–
Nalini Priyadarshni is a high school teacher, writer and editor. Her work has appeared at numerous magazines and international anthologies including Mad Swirl, Camel Saloon, Dukool, In-flight Magazine, Poetry Breakfast, The Riveter Review, The Open Road Review and The Yellow Chair. She lives in, India with her husband and two kids.
Baseball | Natalie Bentley
Why do they stand,
Why do they run,
Now they are brushing
the field,
Why do they wait?
I fear I will never
understand why some
games are seen
as so important.
Cliches with Credentials | Stan Morrison
convenience is the enemy of progress
why ever fix what works all right now
self-esteem is not borrowed from others
it always emanates from within
dreams are just dreams without action
actions linger in isolation without goals
fits and starts and distractions are fatal
riches wedded to greed is the booby prize
take everything I just said and integrate it
discover what’s beyond with your heart open
Words Instead of Violence | Michael Marrotti
I was a fan
of violence.
A man of
no patience.
Disrespect
was met
with a fist.
My knuckles
were memorable
to those who
didn’t mind
their own business.
Lessons were learned
through the gift
of malice.
Those in need
of tutelage
Were awarded
it in blood.
The glory days
when I was
a teacher.
The cops
ruined that
Busted
I have a new title.
What choice
is left for a
two-time loser.
Here I am
Years later
Fists in my pockets
Expressing myself
through words
Freedom of jail
Instead of violence.
Brands | JD DeHart
Everyone is wearing
their own brand, but I do not see
them, nor do I see the holes
in their jeans.
I see their purpose, absorb
their voice, but the faded
labels and tucked or untucked
virtues do not gain my notice.
More at http://jddehartwriting.blogspot.com.
Naught to Naught (6-13-15) | Sam Haddock
Towards the end of life
you count the cost
of all you’ve gained
and all you’ve lost.
Like your spouse and loved ones,
who’ve passed away,
and those cherished possessions,
that dissolved in space!
Not to forget elderly gains,
of arthritic joints and progressing pain,
with bouts of dysfunction, and crippling disease,
and uncomfortable accompanying indignities!
You yearn for sweetness, but suck on dregs;
as memory stutters, and the body decays…,
for the important things have faded away,
leaving tedious, boring, purposeless days;
and the only question that still remains,
is what, if anything, lies beyond the grave!
Happy New Year | Stan Morrison
I’m not used to getting old just need a little more time I’m struggling with limitations a tunnel at the end of the light it’s my first time in this cycle senile stereotypes get to me so, I’ll simply keep my eyes out everything’s bound to change
Joy Cometh in the Morning | Christine Emmert
I cannot contain
or yet restrain
the arrival of joy each day.
By eventide the joy is dimmed.
New joys hide among the stars
to be uncovered
by another sunrise.