Upon nearing Autumn’s arrival,
I see Nature’s last hoorah of vivacious manifestation,
A proclamation of her time in youthful fervor
the bassoon’s bellowing croak
amidst a once booming symphony
now all coming to a diminuendo in variance
Like the savory peck of a spry elder
Even still, muffled by prospect.
Lydia is an emerging writer from the Midwest who enjoys long nature walks
A bright morning
The blue skies and waves
Toes in the sand
I sip coffee
As two children
Search the shore
“Hey dad look”
They call out all the marvels they explore
Dad oblivious with cellphone to ear
Smiles and nods
From a casual stranger
Sometimes life’s moments get lost.
there’s no art in hate
and no joy in ignorance
no racist haiku
we have to uproot
racism, sexism, &
stand up to fascists
resisting all racisms
whenever they rear
sweet, gentle being
cops killed him nevertheless
racism is wrong
we must have racial justice
to thrive together
Dan Brook teaches in the Department of Sociology and Interdisciplinary Social Sciences at San Jose State University.
You are my past, and Oh, how I cherish you.
The artwork, the books; the fine furniture saturated with memories.
You showcase five decades of my successes.
But once I could not pay, none of that mattered.
The storage company will auction you off, breaking my retirement heart,
Monica Perez Nevarez is a sustainability consultant during the day and a writer by night, bearing witness to Covid’s ever-expanding collateral damage.
Sitting on the grassy hill,
the day goes by slow.
Then night falls.
I reached for stars in the sky,
wanting troubles to
end and die.
Only at night can the soul
and body and mind
take a rest.
So, I pray that in its splendor,
the night is long.
Vivian Leung lives in Scottsdale, Arizona and has always held a love for music and writing. One of her goals in life is to land a career in healthcare. There are few things that are more rewarding to her than helping others.
They had the kind of love
that camped out in cotton shirts
Damp with perspiration from
Evenings with her back pressed against his chest
As they looked into an endless sky
And pondered how the love they shared
Felt bigger than the entire universe before them
Ran Walker is the author of 21 books, including the 50-Word story collection THE STRANGE MUSEUM. He teaches creative writing at Hampton University in Virginia.
“I will make this bad week good,”
she says with the tenacity of a teenager
clinging to the lie of a broken curfew—
the tire flat; the phone dead.
Hunting and pecking key after key,
certain each stroke will not just create
a new world,
but wash away the old.
Cathrine Goldstein writes a whole lot of gritty, real-feeling “stuff.” Most of it takes place in NYC. She also eats boat loads of chocolate pretty much every day. To find out more about her bestselling novels, award-winning plays, and other writings including articles, short stories, and poetry, please visit CathrineGoldstein.com
stands a man
clad in iron skin,
sheets of copper
draped over shoulders,
taint of green eyes
barren of thought
told to kneel
before the man
would have had me in shackles
and as empty in thought
as the monument
standing before me
Eric Persaud fights for public health.
He knelt, burying
his face in her waist,
of how many times he’d die
could only say
you have no idea.
Held fast, she
(looking out the misted glass
at the crabapple trees with their pink heads
you have no idea.
Celine Low lives in Singapore, a tiny country in Southeast Asia with a hodgepodge of cultures. She holds an MA in English Literature and loves to dance and take long walks. Her works have appeared in Blood Moon Rising Magazine and 9Tales From Elsewhere.
The wheel is spinning.
I am gambling on red.
If this pays off I will be very rich.
It will be the perfect casino heist.
the traffic light is green. A truck hits me side on.
The wheel is spinning. I can’t control…
This getaway is strictly
Brian Maycock lives in Glasgow, Scotland. His short stories have appeared in magazines including Dreamcatcher and The Weekly News.