Unless | Angelica Fuse
I will be
yours until
the day
we expire
unless
you discover
my secret
plans
my control
panel inside
my alien
mind
or insist
on modern
decor.
poetry website
Dandelion | Blanca Alicia Garza
Although I’m just a dandelion…
I’m a beautiful flower as well,
maybe just a weed for some,
but a wish for many. Sadly,
I have to be shattered into pieces
to make your wishes come true,
while mine are broken
and scattered in the wind.
I dream of what it would be like
to be a dandelion
in a vase of roses.
Perhaps I’m just a dandelion…
a wish maker,
but I will not change
just to be a rose.
Hunger in the Night | Deeya Bhattacharya
The night in our garden
is intense but fragile
the misty moon atop the dew
ceaselessly flowing into each other
The night in our garden
is full of longing
sucking up the vortex of thoughts
flowing like a river
The river in our garden
is full of silky fragrance
severed like cubes of ice
perched on our hunger
The hunger of the wind
on moss, ferns and potted plants
the hunger
in tales of lost love
On hungry nights like these
in our lit-up porches
we cook consciousness
which binds our thoughts
to skin and sylvan pitfalls.
Something Blue | Judy Moskowitz
A light breeze blowing
Thoughts remembered
Covering me
Not soft as a baby’s blanket
Or the pastel hues of sky
This blue dark as midnight
Almost turning black
Even as desert flowers bloom the grief of darkness
Has blocked the sun
On this spring day
Drawn into my own
Complexities of songs
Sung blue
Heard by few
Felt by some
Seen by none
I cannot bring back
What I never had
Passing the plate
Of gratefulness
I feel opaque
Drinking red wine
Remembering those
Missing at the table
Deafening Silence | Judy Moskowitz
In the darkest of blue
Looking out on my patio
Through old vertical blinds
The umbrella is in disrepair,
Along with six weather beaten chairs.
Things are different now
Under a quarter moon’s
Fraction,
To drown the sound
Of quiet’s intrusion
I go to my computer
And type,
All I hear is the tapping
Of my fingers as they hit
Each key,
Wishing you were sitting
Next to me.
Through my cloth
To my skin,
The evidence is clear
You’ve left your imprint
Of love shared
In this space,
Like wearable art
To be seen,
To be felt,
Inside folded pages
Of love letters, hidden
Collective thoughts,
You make me swing,
Rise to the creme.
The Shadow | Narinder Bhangu
Sunburnt faces feel free,
In your shadow, my dear tree
Your branches are thick,
A perch for the featherless chick
Your branches go up and down,
With a gust of the breeze,
And, the shadow comes and goes
Slowly, but with ease.
As I watch you
In perfection,
I wonder
At your affection.
For soon, wintry cold replaces
The summer’s scorching heat.
The sun sets into the darkening sky
And makes you a snow-covered sheet.
You become the grace of my garden
A place for playful children.
They make snowballs to splash,
unaware of worldly clash.
Before long, they slip the splash,
Pick an axe to catch the clash,
Then, they wish for rest and peace
And your cool shadow’s leis.
Flavors of My Mind | Ken Allan Dronsfield
Contempt in a shaded gray
virtuous omnipotent pinks
rally through the green ivy
vines of feted consciousness.
Vanilla violet paths follow
the blood-red rivers while
blue-black chambers ignite
white flying herds of nerds.
Preposterous nerves on fire,
graciously curtsy to a queen
of tangerine smiles all the while
kicking a yellow ball of dreams.
I’m a dark silver starlight orb
bouncing through the galaxy in
a purple frock mocked by Odin.
Righteous blame, red once again.
Holler from a mountain of shame,
on a whirling grain of golden sand
a sufferance of pious blue proclivity
Banging drums in a peppermint band.
Waking up in a Dream | Andromeda
Waking up
to human breath
to tousled bed
to arms outstretched
to bustle of morning tea
to chatter and grumble
to chemistry
of souls united
in camaraderie.
A dream, my dream
untouched, pristine
held in hopeful heart and mind.
Prize | Andromeda
Do I see a smirk on your face
When I say my son is gay?
Do I hear a sneer in your voice
Cause he’s gone astray?
I pity your constricted mind
And your cowering heart
Come, I’ll help you now
To take them both apart.
In your disinfected space
you wont let vermin crawl?
Fear not, there’s a world outside
for them to stand tall.
Ans as they grow and spread their wings
You’ll find you’ve shrunk in size
Ah for that myopic sight
that is a fitting prize.
Not a Word Spoken – A Poem by Michael Kagan
A string quartet fills the kitchen
The cello’s bow played through
An heirloom sugar bowl’s sweetness
The harmonic strain so perfect
Makes the pain go away
Not a single word need be said
The sound of the rousing marching band
Flows through the veins of
My narrow halls
Trombones sliding pock marks into plastered walls
Crisp apple cider of this
Trusted music causing my
Knees to kick up the speed
Keeps the pain away,
Words are never spoken
And that funky jazz combo
In my living room
Made themselves a cozy cat’s Home
Cat-nip lines playing tic tac toe forward rhythm flying high
Notes silver shimmer in space until they fade
And beauty does die,
This music ties the earth to my feet
Reaches in, making love
To my heart,
Reflects the invention’s own brand of pain
Pushing other deep aching
Aside
And it speaks without using words
If ever spoken
Would
Rip me open
Exposed to the
Terrifying light.