Aquarium Journey
by Farah M., Congers, NY
I slam my tender palms
against the glass,
sucking in my cheeks,
my eyes protruding.
This creature
meets me face to face –
as an equal.
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Drowned in Thought
by Sondra H., Cohasset, MA
and I cannot tell you
free from invis(imagine)ible vision
bondage anchored views
let it go (un)ravel twist
congest accelerate main artery jammed
pressure point dis(tribute) disturb weight
transfer answer inner calm
submerge emerge hot water balance thrown
sunken reference ...
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Elegant Rose
by Adria O., Edgewood, WA
My mother, Anna Gibson, was a prestidigitator.
The neighbors always swore that even heaven’s
garden couldn’t compare with hers.
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Flurry of Frozen Fury
by David V., Clarkston, MI
The hailstorm blew
Westward?
However irrelevant it was
To the angry lashes it made
Across the rosy face
It bit small pieces
Of feeling away
Its frigidity
Stirred
A buzzing sensation
On the permeable pores
Causing them
To give in
Surrender
To the army of ...
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Gray Minutes
by Alyssa D., E. Northport, NY
The past few years we spent in the watermelon patch
Staring at the golden sky being polluted by the factories
Watching the charcoal smoke dance between
the pearl clouds
Waiting for black and white to mix to gray
But sometimes it never did
Sometimes our eyes were hypnotized ...
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If I Were in Charge of the World
by Jessica B., Easton, PA
(Apologies to Judith Viorst)
If I were in charge of the world
My favorite flip-flops would never wear out.
There would be no books of poems with the
last page missing,
No hairy spiders to hide in the corners.
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Peer Edit
by Lindsey D., Overland Park, KS
“Don’t judge me
Or my scribbling
I wantneedcrave honesty!”
(but if you don’t like it figure out a diplomatic way
to almost say it)
Open the essay (wow, this blows) and pretend to smile
laugh enjoy the run-ons about something i don’t even ...
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planting bones
by John C., Troy, OH
yesterday
she parted the soil
soft sepia granules invited
her ripe fingers
to lay her tribute of seeds
tenderly into the ground
today
I part the soil
soft sepia granules invite
my unripe fingers
to lay my tribute of her bones
tenderly into the ground
and wait for ...
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Snapshots of a Village by the Sea
by Marika T., Fort Bragg, CA
empty swings and abandoned dreams
half-filled notebooks and forest streams
the road that seemed to go on forever
broken promises, “always” and “never”
Hell-fire and trumpets, the sun sinking low
secrets told and kept, for only us to know
running and hiding, ...
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Sweater of a Soul
by Deanna L., Marina, CA
Somehow, the world looks bluer
since you hung my limp sweater of a soul
on those red hooks behind the door.
What right do you have to do nothing?
I can’t describe to you how
I am fed by the trees,
how I drink from the oceans,
how my best friends are dogs.
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The Invite Said “And Guest”
by Stephanie M., Sydney, Australia
She caught the attention of the swayers and side-steppers
And briefly the banter of the aristocrats came to a minor pause,
as they rose their champagne glasses in recognition.
Murmurs then became un-muted.
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The Wedding
by Kirah R., El Cajon, CA
The Procession began – I walked
down first – the Shoes clacking
with each Step – I stopped on
the Marker – the fellow Maids
followed – along with the Bride –
Do You take – the Strap pinched –
my Heel ached – that ...
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The World Stops
by Howell Z., Charlotte, NC
The Earth stops.
Then it starts again,
.backwards goes it except
,world the rule I Now
,way other the revolves Earth the for
.me around way other the
,right to left sway Swings
,up to down glide slides
.aeroplanes fly crabs and
,spoons as Sharp
,forks as round
.
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This is the Year
by Jake S., New York, NY
This is the year
when peace will finally
come to Darfur
and the disembodied hands
of refugees
will reach out
and clasp
the hands
of their saviors
Pulled,
into
a sea
of blue berets
This is the year
when the ancient war
in the holy land
once ...
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Underneath
by Johanna T., Geneseo, IL
The eve of twilight ascended,
my breath came, now gone
as my soles pounded upon the way.
The whispers of the cornstalks
call someone else’s name.
Murmurs drown amongst thousands
of pieces in the heavens above.
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Why History Is Trivial
by Elizabeth H., Ringgold, GA
It is not the JFK assassination that moves me to tears,
No government conspiracy could make me a downpour.
Nor “Hotel Rwanda” that leaves me closed and silent,
Barred, but far from empty.
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