It's just poetry, it won't bite

Night noises

09.28.12 Posted in today's words by

Christopher Roe’s most recent poem to appear here was Sliver of the Light (September 2012). Night noisesBy Christopher Roe And the shadow swoopedand it shriekeda startled mouse tumbledand was carried offagainst the moon. And the stillness slowly filledwith night noise and movementforaging and mating resumedin the shadows castby moonbeams. And all were gratefulwithout guilt or shamewithout luck […]


Souvenirs

09.27.12 Posted in today's words by

Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter, and collagist living in Pittsburgh PA. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally, and globally in a variety of print and online journals. SouvenirsBy Richard Schnap A vase of withered flowers,A dusty crystal ball,A pewter statuette ofThe Empire State Building,The joker from a deckOf Japanese playing cards,An engraved […]


All the Lost Crayons

09.27.12 Posted in words to linger on by

Richard Peabody is an awesome writer and the publisher of Gargoyle Magazine. All the Lost CrayonsBy Richard Peabody1) Prussian Blue (ceased 1958) Kids fight over their favorite crayons. If you reach for my Aquamarine or CopperI might just bite you. And who didn’t love youPrussian Blue? I needed you for the deep watersurrounding Mike Fink’s […]


Credits

09.26.12 Posted in today's words by

Stephen Luke is a professional writer and poetry enthusiast who lives in Elmwood Park NJ. His goal is to expose people to poetry in new ways and to express themes in new mediums, whether written out in chalk in a schoolyard or quickly in a text message. CreditsBy Stephen Luke I can’t see you anymore,Or […]


Poem for a Mother

09.25.12 Posted in today's words by

Rhiannon Thorne is a Fleetwood Mac baby from the North Bay, but took to calling herself Raquel during her abroad years in Madrid. She’s been published around and is co-editor with fellow poet-in-arms, Kate Hammerich, ofcahoodaloodaling. She may be reached at rhiannon_thorne@live.com. Poem for a MotherBy Rhiannon Thorne When I was fourI’d follow you into […]


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