Shadow Puppets | Angelica Fuse
Our sun casts
a shadow
small figures
that follow me
through even
my brightest
places.
poetry website
Perspective in a Painting | Michael Kagan
In the painting
I see the back of my head
The cheek and profile
Of my sister crying,
We’re standing deep
In the wheat field
Towering over us
Watching our father’s tractor
Traveling in circles,
All you can see is the big rear tires
The side of his leg
His left hand
Sleeping at the wheel,
We can see the barn burning
All the animals running
Out of the smoke,
I can see
The arsonist painting
This scene of her own making
But she left the picture
Before it was dry
Smouldering in my mind.
Picture | Nate Maye
I created
a picture
of you with
words but
You proved
You would
not stay in
frame, stray
from letters
to write
Your own
Name.
Caw | Nate Maye
Black birds
outside my
window call
to me to
wake up
before it is
too late,
their cries
overshadow
the smaller
light warbles
of the red
and blue birds.
Notations | JD DeHart
They assemble, they note
they sway in unison.
Ask them the ten question
quiz, they will smirk.
This they do not note.
They have no reason, no remark,
no railing force to see
what words these demarcations
attempt to explore.
But hand them the right narrative,
let them speak the story
from depth of soul
from relevant longing,
and they will make such notes
as you have not seen.
More at http://jddehart.blogspot.com.
The Unthinkable Mountain | Michael Kagan
I know if left alone
I would fall from the sky
Of a different world,
I fell long ago from my
Birth sky of blue serenity
And migrated to a place
Of mystery
Where shoes fall like raindrops and laces grow
Into barbed vines
Giving each seeker on the
Other side shallow breathing
Hanging on while bleeding
Peering over surrounding
Hills of weather beaten shoes
Piled spectacles of eyes
long melted
Tons of warm clothing
Hand stitched
Before the world went cold
Mountains of luggage rotting
Traveled the final journey
Masses of bone
Still gripping the handles,
Somewhere in disbelief
Cut down uncles and aunts
And cousins
Run their fingers through
Time’s shining curly locks
Silken cheeked
Seedlings doomed
To remember
Must carry
The stench and brown edges
Of a blue iridescent sky
Spring Cleaning | Blanca Alicia Garza
Shake off the cobwebs
The dust and fuzz
from your past
Stir up the soil
Plant new seeds
Clean the windows
of your muddy soul
Trim dead, dry stems
into colorful roses
Your frown into a smile
Restart the internal clock
Reborn from within
Not much time to lose
Winter is gone
Spring has arrived.
Real Rock Bottom | JD DeHart
With his brown
bottle blues and endless
Trekkie VCR tapes,
the cling of smoke
and bad memories, you
would think it would have
gotten him up,
but his legs were still
sore and his paintbrush
still dry and docile.
Builders | JD DeHart
There are builders
who give kind words
and trade in wisdom
while others break
with syllable and tooth.
Proclivity for Harlequin Hues | Ken Allan Dronsfield
Begone wretched brown grass
allow the vibrant hues from the
precious palette of mother nature
to burst through the leafy fodder.
Color the daisies, lilac and roses
with glowing sweet scented beauty.
Don’t forget the wildflowers, paint
them with an electric brilliance!
Sing to my cherished trees and
allow blooms and leaves to lovingly
peek at the wonders of a deep blue
sky and explode with a soulful grace.
Bestow blessings on a return of warm
weather birds and and all creatures.
Hear my serenade, my ode to Spring.
Righteous proclivity for harlequin hues.