Haunted
all
night long the ghosts
creak through the house on mouse
feet
whispering regrets
Cecil Morris
Cold Moon Journal
Thursday, October 31, 2024
By Cecil Morris
Wednesday, October 30, 2024
Tuesday, October 29, 2024
By Stephen Jarrell Williams
running
out of words
tired
poet
Stephen Jarrell Williams
eating the last piece
of bread in the world
nuclear
toast
Stephen Jarrell Williams
By Isabella Mori
love song ...
through the soles
of my old sneakers
listening for the whisperings
of
the street
Isabella Mori
across
the lawn
the lawless reach
of blackberries
Isabella Mori
Sunday, October 27, 2024
By Marcellin Dallaire-Beaumont
airplane in flight
above the clouds
it's so easy
to cross borders
when
you have papers
Marcellin Dallaire-Beaumont
By Mohua Maulik
quicksand…
extending
a hand
from across the seas
Mohua Maulik
amongst the folds
a cache
should I unpack
the emotions
or
tighten the straps
Mohua Maulik
By Belinda Behne
a
monarch kisses my brow
mistaking me for a flower
Belinda
Behne
at
the laundromat
I share my change
with a stranger
Belinda
Behne
Thursday, October 24, 2024
By Elena Zouain
autumn solitude —
the
moon at my window
Elena Zouain
silence of the forest —
the
stag's bellow reaches the stars
Elena Zouain
By Rita R. Melissano
meeting
again the old pain disappears
Rita R. Melissano
welcoming
the precious beauty
of ordinary days
this morning begins
with
pearls of dew
Rita R. Melissano
By Richard Bailly
heaven on earth
grandmother's blueberry pie--
a
la mode
Richard Bailly
viewing
all my memories...
online
Richard Bailly
Wednesday, October 23, 2024
By Roy N. Mason
Your
AARP Membership Has Arrived
Waiting
On The Day
I Look Back At All This
And Laugh
Roy N. Mason
Tuesday, October 22, 2024
By Joanna Ashwell
already too far
from the nightglow
a
tidal wishing star
Joanna Ashwell
what we said
to the snow
an
igloo’s hush
Joanna Ashwell
willow river
the bend within
a
dreamer’s forest
Joanna Ashwell
pressing daisies
back into my memory
summer’s
end
Joanna Ashwell
a morning chill
that old cardigan
wrapped
around me again
Joanna Ashwell
By Scott Wiggerman
ten sentences
as the narrative
rambles on . . .
all I wanted was
a
simple yes or no
Scott Wiggerman
the failure
of espresso love
I no longer
remember
his
name
Scott Wiggerman
sunflower
steeped too long
in
loneliness
Scott Wiggerman
windchill
the bitter icicles
of
absence
Scott Wiggerman