Autumn
by Marissa A., Wrentham, MA
Autumn is a fool
gives golden rubies from the oak
to winter - who hides them
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Cold
by Gracie B., New Paltz, NY
They buried you today,
Along with my hopes for spring.
Put you deep under the frozen ground,
Leaving only the solemn banks of snow
To watch over you.
Bought a woolen coat
To wear.
Didn’t want to catch my death from the cold.
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Colors White
by Allison G., Fairfax, VA
I wish that I could wake up
To a thin coat of frost
On my window,
And the hum of the heater
Working overtime.
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Crossley Road
by Sheenamai L., Cathedral City, CA
A deluge of rain smears
the scene at Crossley Road:
Light etched in the cracks
of a sun-baked street sign
A Morse code in the middle,
deciphering the great divide
The dusty smell of pavement,
mixed with perfume escaping
from a blind stranger, ...
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Daughtering
by Stephanie S., Grosse Pointe, MI
When my parents found the bottle of gin
in my purse - a small darling the size
of a fat diamond - they couldn’t get mad.
They tried to. They pulled their eyebrows tightly
toward their nose, but they couldn’t decide
how to go about it.
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Discourse of a Catholic Suicide
by Lauren K., Ijamsville, MD
There is a cheap porcelain vase
centered on a mantle of wilting flowers.
A few blurred and faded photographs
reveal what of your memory remains.
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Fade
by Sam J., Leamington, ON, Canada
And as the waning sky paints itself in gold,
October will dip its head beneath the surface
and fade away.
We will lose track of time.
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Falling
by Anna R., St. Paul, MN
When the sky
curls in on itself,
when the streetlamps
spread their powdered wings and
spark
a golden diffusion of light,
when the words
begin to smear
like the colored sand
of a peace mandala
dusting away
over the calm cool flow
of a ...
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Holiday Forgeries
by Amanda K., Livonia, MI
Sitting around eating beer nuts
Extinguishing cigarette butts
As attempts are made to start obligated conversation
About fumbles in football and the state of our nation
Never mentioning that you never call
All the while my hideous holiday dress
Of ...
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Lake Elizabeth
by Alicia S., Arlington Heights, IL
Remember the heat nap we took,
lounging by the lake?
Sun rays bounced off the water;
we were surrounded by
sparkling champagne.
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Life is Over There
by Melanie L., Los Angeles, CA
It began to snow as I left the city, muffling the London drear
of fogged windowpanes, blurred rouge-cheeked stoplights -
the flakes falling like melted diamonds down spines.
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Passing of the Storm
by Farah M., Congers, NY
taking sips
of cold,
sweet iced tea
is heaven;
as I swelter
underneath flame,
watching the sea birds
soaring,
the sand
creeps between my feet.
but a storm invades,
and the sea birds struggle
to hold fast
to their life.
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Peace
by Alana M., Queens, NY
singed sweet and soft
taste the bruises of an old war
take a look at your cannons
silly toys compared to my hands
the sun can rise and set all it wants
there is no due time for peace to come
rusted ruined and raped
taste the blackened meat and ...
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Perdition
by Nicole G., Hamburg, PA
we have become a perfect
clockwork mechanism -
one festering mass of crooning cogs, roaring
pistons, raging gears
wound up by the fingers of our
perfect clockwork messiah
to whom we offered alms
prayers and
first-born sons,
and in whose name ...
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Postmen
by Minhal B., Chicago, IL
postmen sit in the grit of the burning city lights,
with a cigarette between chapped lips;
these men are the messengers
in the sweet honey heat of the summer,
slow molasses of sweat rolling off the foreheads
the fresh bite of apple, like ...
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The Neighborhood
by Abram B., Morristown, NJ
Who said the Birds aren’t singing the gospel
And the gutter isn’t the base in the choir
Their deep notes dripping down the back of their throats
Their song garbled
The ominous open mailbox frowning at the musicians
An angry patron clad ...
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To Those Caught in Color
by Mallika L., Bangalore, India
Like their parents, they run late in white shirts
And perfect ties, carrying innocence in their lunch boxes
While the bag lady watches, her eyes beady
And greedy for a smile, some love. Anything
You’re willing to give her.
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Writing Process
by Eleanor E., Salem, OR
I sit here wondering, soft fingertips falling
accidentally on the flat black keyboard
how do I feel at this moment?
faded tie-dye shirt, colored with the
whimsical pinks and purples of previous springs.
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