two boys ride on the same skateboard daredevils heads thrown back in laughter living for the moment
feeling her she sits beside me telling me all the back routes - loving me for all my wrong turns
home from work I pull on my old man's jersey forest green - it feels like shade on a summer afternoon
Tuyet Van Do
Restricted Account
again my account is restricted for posting truth again and again I try to wake up the masses
On Leave
work from home no longer an option I still dress up every morning to keep sanity
Mud Mask
facing the mirror she puts on the last mud mask for vanity sake
Bryan Rickert
the flowers gone to seed I walk the garden knowing my best day are behind me
my wife adopting every sad stray now I know what it is she first saw in me
autumn a little of my anger gives way with each falling leaf
Roberta Beach Jacobson
so full of invoices and purchase orders the accountant logs off the office computer to disappear into the cityscape
I boil a pot of unsalted water time to toss in my salty mistakes from past relationships
letters unsent feel like failed chances our eyes lock as I deboard the bus I still wonder what if
Gerard Sarnat
Had joy, joy, joy down In boy’s heart, down in Jew’s heart --Maybe zilch to do With later lyrics oy veh referential to Jesus?
Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo
tonight so saddening bright the moon it shines for the lovers we no longer are
alarm clock sound still hanging in a dream my moon there on a road where one will never meet
on the riverbank the light is a sail towards the sea a restless sweetness my melancholy
C.X.Turner
in the sorrow of a new dawn a simple kindness holds great hope in tiny hands
the magic of forever wishing you were the cadence of my poem written within me
adrift in murky waters I catch glimpses of hope – lighthouse lantern
Ram Chandran
lots of differences this moon from my childhood moon; my mom whispers when I met her last
leaning on her shoulder I point to a distant star as she draws star on beach sands
red hibiscuses outside hospital windows sway- drop by drop blood transfusion
Susan Burch
with Covid-19 we spend hours surfing the net… what’s new in cryogenics
a sudden gust of cold bitter wind how many times do I have to say I’m sorry
lines taped to the carpet at CVS playing keep away from each other
George Schaefer
Words splattered about Poetry from the trenches Furious, captured Precision duly noted we survive and reveal scars
Chen-ou Liu
dewdrops in winter twilight Father slips into a world of his own there ... but not there
midnight moon shedding light on the scars of our past I hold my first love closer and tighter
during the checkup Father nods or shakes his bald head ... the doctor's mask softens the news
Ruth Holzer
this self shaped and sustained through the years by the secret savors of what it could not have
sunset blush a girl by the river scrolling with scarlet nails through her selfies
whether the damage is reversible we will find out tomorrow... sufficient unto the day
Mona Bedi
into the Ganges I scatter his ashes the splash of the water on my face makes me feel close to him once again
shadow puppets the only true friends she ever had how lonely it is to be a girl child
winter sadness I become one with the grey fog the memories of us add colour to my life
Neena Singh
early dawn rose light awakens earthlings to the wondrous gift of new possibilities
old family album-- a black and white photo falls out ... was it as easy to leave your last-born child
David He Zhuanglang
a silver lining as the moon hides behind a cloud... an old couple whisper to each other
meditation in darkness... in the attic of my hut the first star twinkles
moonlight filters through the branches ... the lovers' breath lingers between their kisses
R. Suresh Babu
his memories stacked inside my heart the pain and the longing set free in rhyme and meter
my name carved on his ring how easily he slides me out from his head and heart
Mike Gallagher
mist slides down the hill my father digs for worms a good day for brown trout
taut straps slipping through white knuckles the cold smell of broken earth
grandson loving being close to grandma each far away in daydreams
Giuliana Ravaglia
Nel profondo
Quando l'anima trema e il buio cigola nel profondo riaffilo antichi artigli in un gomitolo di sole
Deep inside
When the soul trembles and the dark creaks deep inside sharpen ancient claws in a ball of sun
Il sole della gioia
Vorrei catturare il sole della gioia entrare senza timore nella sala del banchetto nutrirmi alla festa della vita e morire vivendo in profondità d'azzurro
The sun of joy
I would like to capture the sun of joy fearlessly enter the banquet hall feed me at the party of life and die living in the depths of blue
Christina Chin
going from door to door looking for holy basil and kafir lime alter offerings
*times have become even harder for many people. This lady has been going round looking for holy basil and kafir lime for prayers.
the fragrance of chrysanthemums and rosebuds in my tea... zen garden
Pier Road junction I whirl round the lamp post clinging for dear life winter squall
*a scary experience for me at the Bournemouth Square.
Daya Bhat
eerie barks door opens and closes I see, neither the guest nor the host in the new moon light
twilight hour . . . one two three four robins swing on the clothesline
Jenny Ward Angyal
A Pocketful of Light
shadows flickering on the hearth the old crone dozes dreaming of a lost key
leaving no stone unturned . . . the earth yields only riddles of worm and seed
trudging across mountains and rivers to the hermit’s hut . . . mice in the thatch
poring over prayers and spells-- the door to the inner room locked against her
touching at last the doeskin pouch nestled against her breastbone since she was born
Swimming Lessons
the brook finds a way around the milldam-- unlike me it knows exactly what it wants to say
raindrops pock the pond’s surface one by one they vanish into the mind of water
a stream flowing over solid stone-- in the eye of the camera they’re one
GPS pinpoints my location on the creek the grace of an otter shows me my place
sitting among bluets on the river bank I wait for the quiet teaching of the moss
Robert Beveridge
knee swollen to twice its size corn whiskey makes them both the same
one more bag of trash to go out to the big can we believe we die without leaving any sort of mark upon the planet
M. R. Defibaugh & Christina Chin
pulling notes from another world . . . bamboo flute music
the still of night broken by a potoo
Christina Chin & M. R. Defibaugh
cocktail in a cobra lily snails
the barfly's slurred speech near closing time
Uchechukwu Onyedikam
I am the words scattered within your thought and imagination piece together your remedy to the mystery of your soul and read your sentence.