More than a tourist in the land of the Parkie where the governor
mumbles and shakes. I’m like a warrior trying to escape; PD has
a grip on my soul. A voting citizen, I fell off the floor and opened
the door to a new life that yells: watch out!
Michael Mogel is an out of work Fire Alarm Inspector due to Parkinson’s and has been writing poetry since college where he founded a literary
A memory, as if only yesterday.
This young woman is a metaphor for freedom
her strong hands guide the yacht
she flies over the crests of the ocean
braces against fierce, frigid salt blasts
that strike her windburnt face
over and over
flicking her blond locks into a wild dance
Alice Lam moved to Australia from the UK with her partner and they share a house in Melbourne, along with a cheese-seeking, greying Boxer dog. See more at alicelambooks.com.
Is not always
In many situations
It is a vice
You are sweet
Happily you greet
But they are there
To get your meat
It’s your peace
That they wish
Drain your brain
Till you allow
And learn to complain
Preeti Singh is an Indian French interpreter, writer-journalist, cinema artist.
You can learn more about her at: https://about.me/preeti-singh
You’re feeling down
And a little lonely too
I have come around
To be close to you
Hold on, I am here
Hold on, cry those tears
Soon you will see
As we join hands
We’ll do this, you and me
You’ll smile and understand
Hold on, dry those tears
Mary has written poetry since age ten and continues to do so. She is also writing short stories and enjoys being a member of a writing group.
A life of tangled legs in bed, like sleeping wrapped in spider webs.
First curled small against my mother,
Then later trapped beneath a lover.
Years of children’s legs cocooned, of cuddles, laughter, me and you.
Now as I lie in empty web, I dream of beds with spider legs.
Jo Withers wakes up in a tangle of kids and pets every morning and wouldn’t have it any other way. Once she’s freed herself she writes poetry, short stories and children’s sci-fi adventures. You can follow Jo on Twitter.
Pete woke up alone and he was not there.
He smelled the roots of trees; he heard the worms whisper; his foot walked away without him; he sank into the sky; his inside was outside; he saw the sun shine through his navel.
Pete had stars at head and foot.
Paul Negri has twice won the Gold Medal for fiction in the William Faulkner-William Wisdom Writing Competition. His work has appeared in Vestal Review, The Penn Review, Pif Magazine, Jellyfish Review and other publications. He lives and writes in Clifton, New Jersey.
They met on the sand, slow waltzing to wavesong under a rainbow of stars and deciding love should last beyond forever.
Now he whispers those memories and her smile smooths the wrinkles of their pain.
He catches her last breath with a gossamer lasso and ties it to his heartbeat.
A.J. lives in Australia and wouldn’t mind being reincarnated as a kookaburra. She’s on Twitter at @manicol1.
Knitting knitting knitting.
It grew. It grew. It shifted slightly just that way and became a caterpillar.
A fuzzy caterpillar.
It slept straight through the pain, the breaking, the making, the knitting into a new life.
It emerged, for beauty.
Quite by chance, Plum Kennard has been around quite a while and is happy to be in this world. Her work reflects her delight in the magical moments of life, but also the grief & loss a long life brings.
I pondered bony in a shroud,
And gloat and glide o’er graves on hills,
Then all at once, I saw a cloud,
The ghost of Obadiah Mills.
In centuries or maybe more,
I ne’er saw such a spirit soar.
What horrors or internal strife
Saw this man exiled after life?
Jo Withers is a cheery soul who loves writing about death, doom, and dinosaurs. She managed to combine all three topics in her middle-grade novel 5 Simple Steps to Saving Planet Earth.
When night falls there is always a light on
in the upper left apartment
across the street.
It stays on ’til dawn arrives.
I think about what demons
keep the occupant
from turning the switch
and accepting the dark.
Will they come visit me when my room has no light?
Ellen Sinclair is from Maine, USA.