"Speckles"
by Rebecca B., So. Plainfield, NJ
Ever since memory was born in me
I have known this name
Spoken in the soft, wispy voice
Of my father
Much like
The whispering that occurs
Between trees
That languidly dance in the untamed wind
In the aftermath of a storm
I can still hear his voice
Tumbling ...
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A Tuscan Night
by Steven S., Congers, NY
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B-50
by Aly S., Brunswick, ME
Inspired by a once-traveled road
We would hit
Those parts of the drive
When the trees would get
So fragrant and I
Would close my eyes
And feel so alive
For I knew
It would soon reach
The very last time
That I would smell
Their beauty
And taste it on my ...
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Barbie Doll
by Kristen M., Califon, NJ
I watch you, caressing a remote control as your only friend.
Your blanket wrapped around your body - still not enough to keep you warm.
My eyes wander your chamber for some movement,
But I see nothing.
And I feel responsible for not taking advantage of this silence.
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corporate addictions
by Kayleigh R., Wichita Falls, TX
addictions fed,
desperately trying
to grab hold
of life.
missing the bulk
of the matter
and ending up
with something short;
less of our own
expectations.
clinging to power/money/substance
(pick your poison).
we're all going to die
in the end.
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Love (what else)
by Mandy I., Plymouth, MN
that peripheral melody
flitting into view
then gone again
taunts me
haunts me
a whiff of fresh-baked cookies
detected from fragranceless banishment.
rumors of perfect passion hide
behind my ears.
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Melon Season
by Kristin M., New City, NY
I smell moonrise on the wind's train.
Tonight's will be gold and ripe,
Angels will see it illume the bluish stones of the sky.
One by one, they will parachute
through glossy layers of the atmosphere
till their toes touch earth
underneath their velvety soles.
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Moving On
by Natalie D., Rio Oso, CA
Faith has become
Like knowing the sky is always there,
Yet not knowing what face
It may turn today.
We still have faith.
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Nothing
by Karsen M., W. Grove, PA
I've nothing to write
My brain is dead
The words have all fallen
Out of my head
I search for a pen
There's no ink inside
The trees that made paper
Have long ago died
My mind is all cluttered
My fingers are cold
Old thoughts are dying
And new thoughts are ...
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Shamed
by Kavita A., Downers Grove, IL
When I was no younger than you
they used to slap me silly
with a wooden yardstick.
I'd scream so loud
my screams pierced
the suburban skies.
And our nosy neighbor,
in her burlap,
peered through our kitchen window.
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Something Better
by Jessica H., Gilford, NH
They let you go -
holding on with one hand,
half holding on with the other.
You glide into darkness -
fading slowly until the orange,
glowing end of your lit cigarette
is all we have left of you.
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The House on The Hill
by Jennifer S., Kincai, KS
The house on the hill
Was proud but still
The frame wouldchip
the roof would dip
Andthe paint peeled off in long white strips
But the rafters stood tall in thegrand front hall
Where the girls had danced in the harvest ...
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This Room Is Not My Own
by Julia A., Ft. Washington, PA
I haven't slept in a five-year-old girl's room
since I was a five-year-old girl.
I am a tenant in her parents' house,
a stranger.
We share a love for lavender and butterflies.
They cover the curtains, the bedspread and the walls
but I have a distrust for her baby dolls.
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To My Bible
by Nicole G., Metairie, LA
six-sided box of Pandora, with highlighted
pinks, yellows, red letters all aflame
you are the bane and balm of my spirit
for every line that gave me comfort
there was tied a string to some
theological knot, a snarl in the fabric of my faith
how many times have I had to ...
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Uber-Trendy
by Patrick T., Stuart, IA
She's a cool kitty,
Her claws down low,
So that no one judges her choices,
Hiding her passion by painting herself,
With monotone colors.
The paint doesn't hurt in front of others,
She just purrs instead of hissing admiringly,
At those who dare to be suicide different.
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Untitled
by Angela H., Hull, MA
You put me on some emotional roller coaster
Clocking 100 m.p.h. on a rickety track
You fed me all these lies and feelings
You told me how much you liked me
And when the ride stopped,
You expected me not to throw up?
Right there in front of you?
And all you did was ...
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Untitled
by Samuel E., Gilmanton Iron Works, NH
2:41 a.m.
lights my darkened apartment with a dim red glow,
and I am sitting bolt upright on my mattress on the floor,
exposing flabby white stomach and sporadically hairy chest.
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