Ode to Music —Cheemnonso

I’ve seen the colour of music; yellow like a budding sunflower, with blotted petals clothed in tumeric; I’ve treaded her country, so idyllic; where love and lust tastes sweet and sour, and the dreams bequeathed inspire moments of magic; I’ve heard her melody, so angelic; easing my nightmares in the darkest hour as the cricketsContinue reading “Ode to Music —Cheemnonso”

Table —Elizabeth Moura

“No initials.” In the café of dreams the shutters are blue, A crackled blue; I often sipped next to them, When the sky was calm, the clouds like milk. Memorabilia clung to the walls, Thrift store antiques, strangers’ follies. The bare tables were carved up By knives of anxiety. Cuts. No initials. Subtle. —Elizabeth Moura

The Artist in Love —David J Hopcroft

The Artist in Love The pen moves gently along the lines Sometimes pausing with the artist’s thought Then rushing forward like a dam that has burst Creativity that quenches the artist’s thirst Scenes feelings and emotions all brought together Words then are tokens of so many different signs The pen now sketches out a pictureContinue reading “The Artist in Love —David J Hopcroft”

My Eye’s Delight —Paul Vincent Cannon

My Eye’s Delight I saw her working, her uncertain, improvised easel holding a whitened canvas, just waiting for those seemingly random daubs of bold impressionism, free form interpretations splashed with meaning, today there was no mere Renoir or Cezanne, this delicate weave of gossamer sheer, an orb’s masterpiece for my eye’s delight. ©Paul Vincent CannonContinue reading “My Eye’s Delight —Paul Vincent Cannon”

Killing Time Sipping Bloodied Ice Tea —Rory Matier

Killing Time Sipping Bloodied Iced Tea When the skies are slipping behind clouds, …. Late in the afternoon, Shying away as they do from the maddening crowds, … and eagerly teasing the awaiting moon, I like nothing better than sitting on the swing, …. Out the back on the ol’ tree in the yard, Toing,Continue reading “Killing Time Sipping Bloodied Ice Tea —Rory Matier”

The Poet and the Poem —Sue Viseth

i am her darling, the poem that’s died a thousand deaths sliced in a whim as i gasp my last breath my poet is a murderess, a ruthless seductress, killing me, her darling word by word piercing melodic prose, never to be heard she employs modern warfare: the dreaded reverse key and on her worstContinue reading “The Poet and the Poem —Sue Viseth”

Aengus 2 —Jane Dougherty

  I took a breath upon the wind today as full of life as rock and rose and sweet as spring water flowing.   A berry fell dark cycle closing the long and lonely season ending the fat trout rises.   And yet the light is cold and blue above the wandering trees and theContinue reading “Aengus 2 —Jane Dougherty”