Category: poetry

Read Poem: DISTANT IN TIME, by Michael Hogan

Cities of the last empire
Ring the desert like humpback whales swimming
In a distance that recedes to what is distant in time.

Stars of the last night
Fall without falling but explode and grow small
Birthing space that is not space,
In a distance that recedes to what is distant in time

Man and woman of the last garden
Come together in work and travail,
Birthing saviors at dawn, at midnight,
Or when the edge of eternity is just visible
In a distance that recedes to what is distant in time.

Mike Hogan (c) 2018

Read Poem: Caught Up In Me, by Georgia Blagrove

I, I, I, Me, Me, Me. Like doe re me, I am focused on only me.

If I don’t get pleasure then me has to leave for sure.

If I am not doing me then I need to see my way somewhere to be free.

Like a lion surveying the plain for its prey, so do I search for my next way.

I feel good, I look good, I am comfortable with unique me.

I sensually stretch with no inhibition for the plain is mine to maneuver.

I am reshaping the box of my mind, this part of my life currently is a wrinkle in time.

There are other dimensions of me to explore.

I am strong enough to endure, to overcome, to fail and get back up.

If I don’t explore, I have so much to loose – my peace of mind, joy, fulfillment, happiness….

I want laughter to be a smile away. A drone like 9-5 state is not conducive to this.

Acceptance of mediocracy is not suppose to be me.

I will not allow the betrayals and injustice to me change me to a lesser version of me!

It is no longer about me pleasing everyone.

It is now a conscious effort on my part to look out for my fulfillment and push my agenda.

I am thankful for the same betrayal/challenges that has plagued me which has helped propelled me to this point to actually take action.

This is where I’ve gotten stuck in the past. What is different now? What will make me take action?

My desperation? Yes, my desperation for I am at the point of shutting down. But..

But, the defibrillator call fulfillment has rejuvenated and jolted me, yes me, to get up and scream.

IT IS ABOUT ME, ME, ME!!!

Read Poem: When The Clock Strikes Death, by C.M. Rivers

Years ramble on along a narrow highway
while daffodils peak in their bright yellow prime
and I scratch at the walls of the hourglass
from which I attempt to climb.

This life was a wet shiny bubble
blown by a child whom I never knew,
who’s heart was as wild as pictures
I colored with crayons before I met you.

Now hard blow the northern winds
and heavy fall the western rains,
and the rocks and sand have barely changed,
yet I have not remained the same
while the clock struck the hours before death came.

C.M. Rivers

Read Poem: Behind Closed Eyes by Cameron Miller

When skin crawls
on the inside, and thoughts flit branch to branch
a winter brown goldfinch pecking for seed

when the longest
deepest, exquisitely practiced yoga breath
exhales an inert sigh

when it is five a.m.
with stained memories frozen
on the black box stage of emptied cranium

it is time.

It is time to step into the deepest
darkest shadow,

and discover who or what
lives there.

“Hello, anybody home?”
You say it with innocence
in case they suspect something.
Enter, shake hands
or paws
with what lives within.

If it is fierce and smelly, nod then get the hell out.
If it is seductive and smirks, be guarded.
If it is deadbeat and depressed, listen.

Behind closed eyes, in shadows
wakefulness never reaches,
skulk citizens with a vote.

Read Poem: Poetry of Mind, by Joy Genauer

Little glitters of sunshine

Little trickles of rain

Resonate in my thoughts

Like flashes of light

Tremble like joy

Breathe with fear

Words spoken

Like splinters of glass

Or feathers that lift

High above the earth

In a blink they emerge

Asking for essence

Asking for clarity

Making themselves known

Read Poem: Ibizza Redux, by Terez Peipins

The eternal Ibizza like party
of my forbearers
immigrants lost,

AM bodies fall
from reverie

A grubby child
sent to church
to be an angel on
the life raft of God

Who’s been saved?
I peek from under
folded arms,
only my hand unraised,

___
Terez Peipins is a writer of Latvian descent from Western New York. Her poetry, fiction, and essays have appeared in publications both in the United States and abroad. She is the author of three chapbooks of poetry. Her novels, The Shadow of Silver Birch and Snow Clues are published by Black Rose Writing. She won the 2016 Natasha Trethewey Prize in poetry from the Atlanta Writers Club. She was a runner up in the Foundlings Press Chapbook and Artist Residency Competition in 2018.

Read Poem: My Word, by Pamela L.Compton “Poet Pam”

Come forth and slap me with your sharpened tongue and I shall take a blade and cut the serpent off.
For I speak within my soul,
something you degenerates would never know.
For the world I live in is mine and mine alone.
There is nothing here for you but the sticks and stones.
Mock my words and play thy games;
One thing for sure you will remember my name

Read Poem: The Ruins, by William P. Robertson

The ruins were overgrown
with brambles & briars.
Crumbled walls cast shadows
in the moonlit gloom
& toadstools crunched underfoot.
Cold drafts seeped from
subterranean vaults.
Ghostly lovers embraced
like tangled roses.

–William P. Robertson