Alvin B. Cruz

you said your love would last plastic roses

—Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

autumn stars

what counts

in the end

—Alvin B. Cruz

 

funeral walk

everyone going

to the same place

—Alvin B. Cruz

hospice room

the old clock

stops ticking

—Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

 grief the length of a summer rainbow

—Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

summer’s end

written in the sand:

I was here

—Alvin B. Cruz

abandoned garden

all that remains

a laughing Buddha

—Alvin B. Cruz

making the most of almost winter rose

—Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

the folded secrets

in her diary

paper cranes

—Alvin B. Cruz

those who remain missing stars at dawn

—Alvin B. Cruz

a conch shell

held close to my ear

unsaid goodbyes

—Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

lavender fields

the less traveled road

to peace

—Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

the light

in mother's last days

dawn stars

—Alvin B. Cruz

mother's belongings

in boxes

gathering clouds

—Alvin B. Cruz

choosing her funeral photo sepia moon

—Alvin B. Cruz

In memoriam

Adoracion Bulaong Cruz

(1938-2025)

Alvin B. Cruz

last walk together

the crackling of leaves

every step

—Alvin B. Cruz

sleepless night

twisting and turning

my Rubik's cube

—Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

rain clouds

the added burden

of unspoken words

—Alvin B. Cruz

lilac buds

this longing for

the unlived life

—Alvin B. Cruz

last hope

all that remains

of a dandelion

—Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

reading his epitaph

I have fought

the good fight

a leaf drifting

down the stream

—Alvin B. Cruz

dawn fishing

he catches

a glimpse of stars

—Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

table for two

the melting candle

between us

—Alvin B. Cruz

cherry blossoms

in late spring

the tree i planted

though i will not sit

in its shade

—Alvin B. Cruz

another home

in ruins

winter deepens

—Alvin B. Cruz

the letter

that never reached you

wisteria blossoms

—Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

strumming

her ex-lover's guitar

silent rain

Alvin B. Cruz

one year sober

a dozen roses

in a wine bottle

Alvin B. Cruz

claw machine

all the ways

of letting go

Alvin B. Cruz

another year...

yesterday's rain

in the wheelbarrow

Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

a love letter to keep forever stamps

Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

day moon

the fear of being known

inside out

Alvin B. Cruz

on a train looking out

the window

I wonder

how much of life

has passed me by

Alvin B, Cruz

More Touchstone Award Nominations (2024)

Congratulations to these talented Cold Moon Journal poets for their 2024 Touchstone Award nominations:

Biswajit Mishra

Stacy Taylor

Bipasha Majumder (De)

Bryan Rickert

Sharon Ferrante

Mark Hendrickson

Jerome Berglund

j rap

Sharon Martina

Rita Melissano

Alvin B. Cruz

Scott F. Parker

Xiaoou Chen

Jay Friedenberg

Susan Burch

Alaka Y

Mohua Maulik

Wendy Cobourne

Adrian Bouter

Alvin B. Cruz

finding peace

in a lonely place

desert lily

Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

his wife’s need

for some space

desert flower

Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

news of a friend's passing summer clouds

Alvin B. Cruz

bedtime stories

grandma reads

the palm of my hand

Alvin B. Cruz

clouds drifting further tests

Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

folding

paper dolls

mother tells me

what it means

to be a man

Alvin B. Cruz

his twin sons

coming out

double rainbow

Alvin B. Cruz

enough said soundless wind chimes

Alvin B. Cruz

Alvin B. Cruz

words we said too late lilacs

Alvin B. Cruz

insomnia

yesterday’s rain

still falling

Alvin B. Cruz

rain after a long drought mother’s remission

Alvin B. Cruz