Christopher Roe shares something new. Sylvia By Christopher Roe I don’t use the oven much because every time I open it and the light goes on I think of Sylvia Plath and whatever I make comes out sad.
It's just poetry, it won't bite
A Lost Summer
Don’t they all end up that way, Nancy May? A Lost Summer By Nancy May in the breeze my dream goes to visit a bumblebee nectar collecting for the future a lonely blackbird worm hunting in the garden a frog ripple watching over the pond
Bereft
Richard Schnap looks back. Bereft By Richard Schnap I remember she used to send Presents every Christmas Tins of gourmet popcorn Baskets of chocolate cookies Almost as if I was one Of the children that she lost Their bright, familiar voices Still echoing in her heart And she always said to come Visit her down […]
Jack o’lantern Love
Elizabeth Dublin loves seasonal poetry. Jack-o’lantern Love By Elizabeth Dublin she was too pretty too cultured too exotic for his worn life with its patched linen spilled-ink pages second-hand second shot but under the harvest moon her midnight eyes shone with lunatic light her smile slipped down jagged her core turned hollow she left him […]
City Folk, Arts Division
John Grey, writing on community. City Folk, Arts Division By John Grey So here we are, myself and more than two million of my brethren. We live in cities. We answer to roads and traffic, stores and high-rises, the constant crush with others like ourselves. I breathe in brick and glass and steel before I […]
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