Cold Moon Journal

Cold Moon Journal
Photo c. Alf B. Meier

Wednesday, March 20, 2024

By Fhen M.

Orion in the evening

my ancestor in the distant past.

Fhen M.

In my solitude

a frog jumps in.

Fhen M.

It's Monday

gazing at the moon's crater.

Fhen M.

By Mihaela Babusanu

that thrill rekindled—

silently looking at leaves

whirling in the wind

Mihaela Babusanu

a cart full of grapes—

father even since sunrise

cleaning the barrels

Mihaela Babusanu

Saint Valentine's Day—

ripping the heart from my hand

a strong gust of wind

Mihaela Babusanu

By Govind Joshi

starry sky

checking the constellations

one more time

Govind Joshi

sunset sky

the jumbo jet's passengers

entering the clouds

Govind Joshi

power outage

in the room

a memory

Govind Joshi

By Genevieve Aguinaldo

      Genevieve Aguinaldo








                                                                                            Genevieve Aguinaldo 

Genevieve Aguinaldo

By Georg Cook

The dark moon calls inviting magic

Georg Cook

By Jake Williams

How many stars?

Scattered light from afar

As silver waxed

Jake Williams

By Lorraine Caputo

Of what are people

dreaming that moment they die

in the throes of sleep?

Lorraine Caputo

By David Ngo

fireworks shoot

exploding everywhere in the sky—

memory's trigger

David Ngo

By Sarah Mahina Calvello

Cul de sac

Bathed in moonlight is the perfect

Meeting place

Sarah Mahina Calvello

By Xiaoou Chen

frog in well

admiring the moon

two circles

Xiaoou Chen

By Anthony Lusardi

autumn rain

a groundhog

digs another hole

Anthony Lusardi

By Janet Krauss

The sun disappears

across the water

leaving a pallor of grief

Janet Krauss

By John J. Dunphy

his latest composition

guitarist sings while facing

a headstone

John J. Dunphy

By Adrian Bouter

child's drawing

his stars

above God

Adrian Bouter

By Kavita Ratna


makeup covers

a black eye

Kavita Ratna

By Kerry J Heckman

in front of the fire cracking open a new book

Kerry J Heckman

By Tim Dwyer

backyard in Brooklyn

last autumn’s maple leaves

by the cyclone fence—

bare branches now full

with the song of many birds

Tim Dwyer