Cold Moon Journal

Cold Moon Journal
Photo c. Alf B. Meier

Thursday, October 31, 2024

By Cecil Morris

Haunted


all night long the ghosts

creak through the house on mouse feet

whispering regrets


Cecil Morris

Wednesday, October 30, 2024

By Ravi Kiran

robed in starlight

ghost of the dream

we strangled

Ravi Kiran

Tuesday, October 29, 2024

By Barrie Levine

city afternoon . . .

a cool breeze spiced

with pumpkin latte

Barrie Levine

By Nancy Brady

apple cider and donut holes

on the refreshment table

fall festival

Nancy Brady

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 Xiaoou Chen

fitful sea-breeze

snatches of sailors’ song

waft to my ears

Xiaoou Chen

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

By Monica Kakkar

a wisp of ecru

hovers over the cradle . . .

the moon at midday

Monica Kakkar

Thursday, October 24, 2024

By Sam Calhoun

last leaf of the maple

cups the last star in the sky—

is this love

Sam Calhoun

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