June, 2020
Day one of COVID-19
By Terry Lee – San Antonio, TX
Blue skyNot a cloud to be seenEssential Personnel onlyA cup of coffee rationing
A million and a half peopleLive hereTechnology reaches outTo see if the way is clear
The birds are singingA Monarch flutters byEveryone is askingWhy? Why? Why?
Dancing Truth
By Latoya Kidd – Largo, MD
In a Moment of Time
by Jon Bush - Belmont, MA
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See Her
by Jon Bush - Belmont, MA
See her,Transcendent, shimmering;Yet casual, the way truth is.When she enters a roomTo simply breathe.
Left
By Michael Shane Love – Lake Stevens, WA
(untitled)
By Michael Shane Love – Lake Stevens, WA
There are times when I ask God to let it be me when it comes to holding love's precious hand. Then there are times when I am content with myself being alone. Which way do I go on this fork when both ways inevitably lead to you within certain circumstances? I think I know the answer to my riddle but I do not want to hear it spoken out loud. I think you know of that answer as well. Perhaps I can face the answer. Perhaps not. Maybe you are not quite there to face that answer yourself. Every day the beast becomes more hungry and I am exhausted by its demands. It wants freedom and who am I, who are we, to deny nature that which is meant to be? I am in my world and you are in another. Somewhere our worlds overlap and become one. Meet me there if you will at that overlap and let us pretend for just a moment that our short time together is all that really matters. --msl2013++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Red Rose
By Michael Shane Love – Lake Stevens, WA
Tell me all your secrets, red rose,make me understandthe riddles you speak to the heart,the promise of love's precious hand. We are all drawn to you.You symbolize love pure.In times of trepidationoften you present a cure. We come to you in romance.In times of love budding anew.With your touch on our emotionswe are powerless to you. Tell me how you do it, red rosefull of so much power.You interact within our livesso many ways while just a flower. Beautiful,as love is so,you represent it well.Though I ask about your secrets, red rose,better not to tell. --msl20142 A.M. On A Saturday
By Victoria Hunter – Clairton, PA
gnats linger near itlike kids do a birthday cakewhen it’s about to be cut
I am under a blanketthick as the snow that was on the stepsleft from the blizzard of 1993
I keep light on a page of my diaryI sketch my dirty secrets in it
the ones no rose I will ever graspwill ever knowand don’t ever thinkyou can make me tell you them
now you sit on a landinga puppetwhen it’s not dancedby magic
and that maybe have been leftto be just another pieceof my home to studyand to one morning
before my blood reminds meit also has painthat won’t go away
be chosento be another thingI am obsessed withrevealing in a poem
Words from Covid-19 Date: 05-26-2020
by Arthur C. Ford, Sr. - Pittsburgh, PA
(Lyrics)I speak all languagesArabic, English and Chinese,I go wherever I want,I do as I please. Throwing money at me Only, makes me boast, I need only atmosphere And an unsuspecting host. I could be surreptitiouslyHiding, in a blitz,Or inside a secret loverWaiting, in a tryst. You can hide in any house Of any color, creed, or klan, Socializing with discipline, “Might be” a starting plan. Sent by the “King of Kings?”Don’t abuse His given truth,If that’s your “state of mind,”Stay in your confession booth!! But, our true “Invictus” spirit Lies in life’s melody Never forsaking or bowing As said by Henley!!!!! By: Arthur C. Ford, Sr., poet/lyricisthttp://thepoetbandcompany.yolasite.com(click on guidelines at top of page) Copyright©, 2020, A.C. Ford, Sr.
(untitled)
by Simon Perchik - East Hampton, NY
*To the dirt that no longer movesyou offer a mask the way a flowerover and over is readied for mornings where time begins again as starssensing honey and more darkness–by evening your death will be used to footsteps one by onebroken off a great lonelinessreturning row by row as the small stones cut out for the mouth and eyesto sweeten it, askwhere you are going by yourself. *Though there’s no sea nearbythis sidewalk smell from sandno longer struggling –you point where the crack will comewhen you take your hand awayletting it lie in the street –what drips from your fingertipis one wound bathing anotherwith evenings and shores covered with the inhuman criesfrom small shells still in painscattered and not moving.
“ Simple Indulgences ”
By Linda Amos – York, PA
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“ … At the Verge of Day. ”
By Linda Amos – York, PA
She was a nighttime wanderer. She never could sleep through the night,She was always too anxious to get an early start On the day that was yet to be. Life was like that- Just when she thoughtShe had a handle on it - It changed dramatically. Cancer did that to the lives Of the ones she loved the most;Her Dad, her brother, her Uncle, Her Dad’s Dad, and some cousins…. Just when she thought She had a handle on it-It changed dramatically- However; this final complication Had in the blink of an eye,In the distance of a heartbeat;Changed her life foreverFrom being a wife to a widow- In the middle of this night.As she wandered in their quiet houseOn the verge of a new life and a new day, That was yet to be revealed to her.DEMENTIA
By Karen R. Springer – Williamstown, NJ
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THICKER THAN WATER?
By Karen R. Springer – Williamstown, NJ
Familiesare, of course,important.There are those of our clanwho we lovewith all encompassingand selflessprofundity.However, there areothers of our kinwith whom we wishwe could unbindthat visceral,tenacious threadof consanguinity. It is sometimesbecause they are the dichotomousmirrored reflectionof ourselves;in which we seewhat is our negative potential.On other occasions,that reverse imagecauses us to questionif their life choiceswere not more legitimate that ours. Whichever the case,we belong to themand they, to us.So blessed be the tie that binds.Yeah, right.
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KNIFE, FORK, AND---
By Karen R. Springer – Williamstown, NJ
SPOON!She loves to spoonescaping with himfrom the bechilledcrypt called Winterto lie liketwo snug piecesof a puzzle ortwin fetuses peacefully floatingin the amniotic fluidof clean sheets,two cozy comfortersand the heat of their somnolent bodies.She can feelthe gentle beat of his heartagainst her back;his hand passivelyyet possessivelyresting on her hip.She is his.He is hers.Yet still they aretheir own.
Everywhere
by David Sapp - Berlin Heights, OH
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Little Nirvana
by David Sapp - Berlin Heights, OH
Straying from my wonting path,I climbed down into dimness,Rickety stair to a leafy cellar, Jarring daylight left behind,Implacable gravity pulling me,Over the bank, over the brink. A jet flew far overhead,Too distant, the air too thin,To hear its roaring engines. I crashed into the woods,To the creekbed where I stoppedShort at the edge; a scolding Kingfisher sought to rouse me,My head brimming with, spellboundBy maya, a great hissing noise. There, a sudden abeyance of self,By chance, stumbling uponA sudden, inadvertent stillness; There, for a flimsy moment,I was the Buddha, not the burden;There, the blue heron drifted by, Exquisitely silent hinges, mesmerizingMotion suspended in my lacuna.I almost touched a wingtip! No wonder the minnows are Beguiled by his quiet manner.This was my little nirvana.Touches of Another Sea
By d. n. simmers –
British Columbia, Canada
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Openings
by D. N. Simmers - British Columbia, Canada
“ Some hatchways open above us the starry sky through the grating.” Tomas Transtomer Watched a movie. Brought back Saturday Matinees.When it was twenty five cents to go.For the afternoon with your buddies.Half the fun was being chased after the show.By the ushers ( all girls in high school) andbeing shooed out the door.Black and white. There were no red or blues.And the serials where the singing cowboy would have one ride in the sandy dirt road.With a cowboy hat that never flew off.His large eighteen hand horse beneath him.It was fun going. But tiring coming home.Hands empty of the fifty cents. Belly sloshingwith candy. Head full of the flicks.Hard to get to sleep those nights. With allthe stars flashing. And a sky turning dark.Hard not to keep on riding. With the riderand his horse into the sunset.Order
By Tamara Fey Turner – Mission Hills, CA
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More than Satisfaction
By Tamara Turner – Mission Hills, CA
My love for you shall be alwaysa love that amazes the gods. I will lay down my life without even a thought to protect you and your honor. A purity and honesty makes us more than satisfiedas that is the most normally expectedby lovers.There is no fire I will not walk into for you. This will never change.You are a gift from the gods,a precious angel from the heavens.Smile. For it’s a beautiful thing for me to know I am the one who brings that cherished smile to life within your heart and to your face. I can’t physically touch you, but I close my eyes, and I see you in my arms and write these words as they pour out from my heart into yours. I pray you feel them deep inside and wrapped all around you like a warm blanketjust pulled from the dryeron a chilled night.+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Parasites
By Tamara Turner – Mission Hills, CA
My house smells of insecticide No matter what I do!Fleas and ticks have lead to tapeworms too.Gross! Yuck! What else can I say!Cats and dogs and birds and such Perhaps I love them way too much.I’ve sprayed and dipped and washed;It never seems to end!At the vet, a fortune I did spend.If anyone has a suggestionA thought of any kindThat will help me out of this great bind,Please scream it loud and high.Let creative thoughts aboundAnd excuse me while I fog the grounds.
Harry Wright
By Michael Ceraolo – South Euclid, OH
Charley Jones
By Michael Ceraolo – South Euclid, OH
Don't count me among thosenominating Harry Wright for sainthood;the only thing I'd nominate him foris the Hypocrite Hall of FameAll his lofty talk about living up to your contract?Well, a contract is a two-way street:when I refused to play until the teampaid me the back pay they owed me,he fired me, and made sure I was blacklistedI didn't play major-league ball the next two seasons,resuming my career in 1883when a second major league came alongI have a good case for Hall-of-Fame induction,even missing those two seasons,but since Harry Wright is in thereI'm okay with being on the outsideTop of Formtwo from Dugout Anthology published in Spitball, The Literary Baseball Magazine, a print-only journal:
THE LOVER
By Marc Carver – Basingstoke Hants, England
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THE SECRET
By Marc Carver – Basingstoke Hants, England
I took it to the garden to bury it.Down and down I dug until I hit another one.This one was buried deep but only because I knew that I could not open it It had been there since the beginning of time my time anyway.It was impossible to open I knew that.But this one had to go very deep now it had come to the surface again.You see I had almost forgot about it but it had been there always just under the surface.So I dug and I dug until I got tired and threw it in and covered it.The next day I was refreshed from my sleep I looked out into the garden and there it was proud as punch for everybody to see.+++++++++++++++++++++++++
A NICE POEM FOR A CHANGE
By Marc Carver – Basingstoke Hants, England
The sea air passes through my fingers as I lift my hands into the air the waves orchestrate the wind and I push them apart there is nothing but this moment to conquer no future no past nothing.All desires are taken away by the sea and the air.Inner Me
by Joyce Gage - Chadwick, MO
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A Writer
by Joyce Gage - Chadwick, MO
I am a poet for my cause,My cause brings forth the poet in me.I dabble in the arts but writing is where I want to be.I can take a character and give it brand new life;I can take a lonely single man, and give him a beautiful wife.I can create demons and Angels galore.The writer inside of me is always creatingmore.I can fill islands with nomads and strangeanimals from hell.I can make a man fall under a witches spell.There are so many things a writer can do,They'll even bring out the writer in you.
July 19, 1939 - March 4, 2016 Resided in Grafton, MA
THE NIGHT NURSE
by James M. Bellarosa
Where is the love
By Briana Peterkin – Aurora, CO
An Illusion in The Bright Mirror of Eternity
by Hongri Yuan - Shandong Province, China
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If Your Eyes of The Soul Wake up
by Hongri Yuan - Shandong Province, China
If your eyes of the soul wake up,you will find the Kngdom of Heaven be within striking distance; your soul is a golden giant,Sugar of Heaven flows in your body;and the memories of the world will be completely vanished,billions of years is like a drop of neatar,that humongous kingdom of goldfragrant and transparent, as if it is an illusionthe of soul.03.28.2019 如果你的灵魂之眼醒来 如果你的灵魂之眼醒来会发现天国近在咫尺你的灵魂是黄金巨人身体里流淌那天堂之蜜而人间的记忆烟消云散亿万年的时光是一滴甘露那巨大无比的黄金之国芬芳透明仿佛灵魂的幻影2019.03.28+++++++++++++++++++++++
The Wine of the Rainbow
by Hongri Yuan - Shandong Province, China
The sunshine wrote a line of words in the snowtold you that the door of the vault of heaven was openingnew interstellar cities would comeilluminate human eyes submerged by the sea. When those giants returns from outer spacethey will bring the poems of diamonds that lighting soulthe earth will be as transparent as a golden smilethe sun will sprinkle the wine of the rainbow.12.06.2019 彩虹之酒 雪地上阳光写下一行词语告诉你天穹之门正在打开新的星际之城将要来临照亮人类被海洋淹没的眼睛 当巨人从天外归来带来了照亮灵魂的钻石之诗大地透明如金色笑容太阳洒下了彩虹之酒2019.12.06
A Refreshing Breeze of the Dawn
by Hongri Yuan - Shandong Province, China
I'm came from the outer space,came from the giant city of the platinum.My lines words of the gemtwinkling with the future interstellar smiles,made the wings of your soul to wake up from the dreammade you see yourself in outer space--time was sweet as winethe palaces of the Heavens were as brilliant as the flowers of gemthe music was a refreshing breeze of dawn that brightening the soul.12.21. 2019 黎明之清风 我来自天外 来自那座白金巨城我的一行一行词语之宝石闪烁未来之星际的笑容让你的灵魂之翅翼从梦境醒来让你看到那天外的自己时光甜美如酒 天国的宫殿灿烂如宝石之花乐曲是洗亮灵魂的黎明之清风
DREAMS
by Juanita Torrence-Thompson - Bayside, NY
CITY LIGHTS
by Juanita Torrence-Thompson - Bayside, NY
City lights shimmerIntensively at nighttime.Scarce in Central Park. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ TALL SHIPS
by Juanita Torrence-Thompson - Bayside, NY
Tall ships anchor whileCelebrating July 4thIn New York harbor.
Swirling Recollections
By Jesse James Doty – Eureka, CA
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Balancing Life
By Jesse James Doty Eureka, CA
Every chance to interact faces new challenges Pendulum swings then rotates around until equilibrium is finally found Feet on the ground prevents forward thinking from barreling underground Live lively Kindlylet others live Loving choiceswill help us forgive
Maui Sunrise
By Jennifer Lagier – Monterey, CA
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GRANDPA'S HANDS
By Jennifer Lagier – Monterey, CA
I remember his fists, hard knucklesclipping a loudmouthed trespasser's chin.At Basin Creek, he delicately pulled a knife bladethrough creamy bellies of brook trout.When I was thirteen, he braceda twenty-gauge shotgun into my shoulder,placed his trigger finger over mine.We ground-sluiced a dimwittedmud hen together.Later, after a series of strokes,at the home where our family stored him,he would wait for his grandchildren'safter-school visits, mutely grin, reachfor our hands like a curious infant.