by George Freek My cat creeps carefully among spring flowers, over petunias and into jonquils, around budding hyacinths, confronting rising hollyhocks. He’s seeking new adventures in his garden universe, stepping amidst this bursting life, while he, poor fellow, grows older, day by day. If he could, would he wonder why…
by Katherine Yoerg I only hope that in the end What lies before me is a desert road… The sun striking down and turning it gold Accompanied by my dearest friend On both sides of the veil The trail Doesn’t end Although on one side the memories rust And footsteps…
by LuCretia Crump My oh My I cannot deny Just how much I love me Some sweet potato pie Not once Not twice But throughout the entire year Sweet potato pie brings me good cheer It’s so delicious to every bite When everyone is asleep I awake to steal more…
by Laura Gardner I once had a doctor tell me that I had one hell of a big uterus. Coming from an OB/GYN I thought at first it was some sort of compliment. I was too caught up in the moment of birthing my ten and a half pound baby…
by Katherine Yoerg In a variety of colors, they sit in plastic bags, the days of youth arrayed with symbols of the times; Motorolas and Tulips, Versace and Mickey Mouse – beckoning you into the darkness, into the strobe lights, into the drum, bass, and luminescence of being up all…
by Gonzalinho da Costa Morning steps forward, freshly washed, newly fed, tautly wound, a limber bow, Ready to spring, tumble, wheel, pull at oars, throw the hammer, leap the long jump, High kick, vault, cartwheel forward, lunge, Superman punch, elbow strike, grapple, Throw, bound, mount a motorcycle, zip, zap, round…
by Phil Temples I was giddy with excitement the very first time I experienced the phenomena firsthand on that hot, humid summer morning on McKinney Road in Allison Park, Pennsylvania. Michael Slattery was my longest and dearest childhood friend. He claims he was the one to first discover it. Mikey,…
by Don Mager Sun’s exuberant rush up the sky sweeps off shadows. The polish of fresh light sizzles icy mica flakes on lawns. Exhaling from the Juniper hedge, a tang of morning sweetness wafts across the shivery air. Like a bundled up gnome, a child bobbles up the curb to the hilltop…
by John P. Kristofco what the house keeps secret, things not meant for life outside the walls, only ours to tell, and so we never do: how we look when we get up, stairs we climb, noisy doors, dust and socks on floors, our angry words and soft, “her kerchief…
by Don Morgan The ghost of night shades the waterfront, cliffs and his hasty footprints in the sand. Painted flowers and her tears flow back to the sea.