by Jaclyn Knaus On broken wings Shattered Bruised Dancing through the storms of life Without an ounce of hope left Lost Alone Afraid With nowhere to belong In a family that the butterfly Once called her own Abandoned in a cocoon of hatred Ostracized Shunned An outcast from her own…
by RR Ewart It is a terrible thing To look at oneself in the mirror And not recognize the person Staring back at you. But that is what happened to me. I believed I would not change. I thought I would look the same and might not Even realize that…
by The Poet Darkling As quiet as is quaint, my fingers tickle their spines on shelves of pine fresh painted. Fat drops of cloudburst freckle the glass of windows ceiling high. I choose one. Only one. It’s old and precious, its leaves wicking wisdom from the Bard himself. I imagine…
by Amy Covel Don’t be afraid To take a stand To fight For what you believe Don’t be afraid To walk alone To chase That impossible dream Don’t be afraid To love a world That people want To hate Don’t be afraid To find beauty In a world That crucifies…
by Ann Hosler Your mangled face was bared to the crisp January air. Teeth and hair and debris scattered across the snowy road. Thirteen may be unlucky, but those long years together built a sense of trust and familiarity. Loose chunks of pavement secreted beneath snow deceived us as your…
by Maria DeSantis She’s not that clever! he growled. No female ever overtook him! He was orange with power His pompadour mane purposely dredged forward hiding a lot of flakes His scorn groomed away facts and pawed a lot of fiction Dangerously playing cat-and-mouse Like an only child snatching for…
by The Poet Darkling young crescent moon orange hanging low as Rēgulus watches her dip below the ridge to the west of us. A calf screams somewhere to the south as The Norfolk Southern S-Line whines just north. Coyotes howl ice into our veins we pull our shawl tight then…
by Amy Southard I know when Autumn arrives, Usually early September here. The corn in my garden is ready for harvest, The silks turning brown. The pumpkins are beginning To turn more orange than green. Leaves are turning yellow, orange and red, Falling to the ground and crunching, As playful…
by Ann Hosler Water trailed down the window in rivulets, tracing the contours of my ghosted face. You wished me a happy birthday, nestled in sterile sheets of your hospital bed. Freshly woken from the coma of your surgery, you couldn’t remember my name. The surgeon removed a basketball-sized spleen…
by The Poet Darkling Today was one of those days; one of those days when you realize you shouldn’t’ve waited; you shouldn’t wait; when you discover places people call “Climax;” “Crapstone;” “Cut and Shoot;” “‘Possum Kingdom;” “Rest and Be Thankful;” when you learn these places could quite possibly be flooded…or that they might be heavenly oaseshaving never known disaster,and you might neverhave knownor caredeitherway,but…