CAROLYN MARTIN: Let’s Talk About Love – with thanks to Cole Porter

Artistic, Poetry, Submissions, , ,

C’est magnifique, this thing called love.
Since we met, you do something to me
and anything goes. You’re easy to love so
let’s misbehave night and day.
Blow, Gabriel, blow! It’s just one
of those things: we shall never be younger.
Come along with me. How could we be wrong?

From associate professor of English to management trainer to retiree, Carolyn Martin is a lover of gardening and snorkeling, writing and photography. Her poems have been published in more than 125 journals throughout North America, Australia, and the UK. She is currently the poetry editor of Kosmos Quarterly: journal for global transformation. Find out more at carolynmartinpoet.com.

JENNIFER FREED: I Call My Mother

Artistic, Poetry, Submissions, Top Stories, Touching, , , , ,

Her talk floats, changes course
like blown soap bubbles. Then—

gone. Someone else’s
laughter comes near, draws hers.

She drifts
toward whoever is taking

her pulse, lifting her spoon,
doesn’t hear me

calling
into the receiver.

I stand in my kitchen, phone to ear,
listening

to the room she’s in

Jennifer Freed writes mostly poems. Her mother survived a cerebral hemorrhage two years ago. Learn more at jfreed.weebly.com.

MICHELLE WILSON: Pills

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

Coffee to wake up. A pill to focus. More pills to slim down, be happy, relax, fall asleep. Botox for lips, implants for curves, chemical peels for skin, filters for photos. Joy highlighted, gratitude expressed, sadness made palatable (never a dull moment).

Post, tag, comment—repeat.

Still not good enough.

Michelle Wilson’s words have appeared or are forthcoming in Potato Soup Journal, Litro Magazine, The Drabble, Entropy Squared, 50-Word Stories, 101 Words, Literally Stories, Flash Fiction Magazine, and Mr. Beller’s Neighborhood, among others. She lives in Miami Beach, Florida. Sometimes she can be found at https://medium.com/@wilsmk.

BILL DIAMOND: Faith in Progress

Submissions, Touching, , , ,

Whenever things looked grim, grandfather was upbeat. “It’s the best of times. Medicine conquers disease. Education brings opportunity. Hard work rewards.”

Then, the pandemic struck. Everything turned dark. Jobs disappeared. Schools closed. Disease prevailed.

Even as the virus took his breath, grandfather reassured, “It will get better. Work at it.”

Bill Diamond finds pleasure in translating thoughts into words and polishing their rough edges. It helps him to better grasp the world and its quirks.

MAGGIE: When there seems to be a cloud around every silver lining

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

An exotic burst of neon green at my feeder. Birds from paradise in my grey garden. Raising spirits along with urban myths.

Released by Hendrix in the swinging 60s.

Escaped from the set of The African Queen.

But this is not fake news: Conservationists Call for Cull of Invasive Parakeets.

Maggie, who has only recently started writing flash fiction, teaches in the West Midlands but her heart resides in a coastal village in West Wales. When not writing, she enjoys walking her two chocolate labs on windswept beaches.

E.L. BLIZZARD: Mama

Artistic, Submissions, Touching, , , , , ,

Sucking, searching for air, she’s like a hooked fish dying bit by bit on a riverbank. Wringing rag, wiping forehead, singing lullabies, pushing ginger ale.

Like she taught me.

Really, I listen through phone to coughs and love words between coughs.

boots pacing
river’s peaceful trail
no pole this time

E. L. Blizzard lives in the US South with work in The Drabble, The Other Bunny, Drifting Sands, Bones, Ekphrastic Review, The New Verse News, FemkuMag, Friday Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction Magazine, Failed Haiku, and several others. Over years she’s worked in advocacy, allying with immigrants/refugees, cis/LGBTQ+ survivors of intimate partner violence, and those experiencing homelessness.

JONATHAN KOSIK: A Minor Comfort

Submissions, Touching, , , , , , ,

Before the last shovelful. Before the words spoken in the rain by the mound. Before the whispering ventilator. Before the cough that stole the taste of food from his tongue. Before the state of everything changed.

Long before. My father hugged me after a scraped knee. A minor comfort… everlasting.

Jonathan enjoys playing out of tune solos on his daughter’s ukulele while she demands he stop. He enjoys writing very short fiction and very long fiction. At this point in his life, he is beginning to suspect a thief is at work stealing his hair while he sleeps.

BOB McWILLIAMS: The Morning Commute

Amusing, Artistic, Submissions, ,

I enter the packed subway car, locate a seat and sit. Another day, another dollar. I open my newspaper, taking out my new prescription glasses. Ready to read, I look around. Panic engulfs me.

I am surrounded by faceless, shuffling bots! I remove the glasses. Reading the paper can wait.

Bob McWilliams retired and seeking a brighter 2021, Bob enjoys writing short fiction and poetry. When not writing, Bob enjoys reading, his dogs and the outdoors.

JIM LATHAM: The Frog in the Pot

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

The border guard shakes his head. He won’t take my money or my passport.

The setting sun shines on the suitcase in my right hand. Behind me: broken promises and empty malls. Injustice, greed, and magical thinking.

I’m the frog in the pot.

I waited too long to get out.

Jim Latham is a writer, hiker, and traveler. More of his writing can be found at jimlatham.substack.com