lighting a fire
in the dark
morning chill
—M. R. Pelletier
cough on cough ...
yet still
this empty room
—Chen-ou Liu
funeral
against the winter sunset
the widow’s silhouette
—Chen-ou Liu
silence within . . .
leaving the valley
withered leaves
—Monica Kakkar
last to leave
my neck of the woods . . .
out-of-season blooms
—Monica Kakkar
frozen day—
she breaks into pieces
the pregnancy test
—Mircea Moldovan
we were all laughing
at dad's off-colour jokes...
now his ashes
float with decency
above the bear den
—Mircea Moldovan
broken clock
this longing
to start again
—Alvin B. Cruz
New Year
reshuffling the cards
of solitaire
—Alvin B. Cruz
plum blossoms
so many expectations
on my way home
—Boryana Boteva
winter fog
the slow emergence
of my consciousness
—Boryana Boteva
baby crying
a guilty pile of
husky poop
—Jade Kleiner
the bagel line
is far too long
ego death
—Jade Kleiner
late train
my mind drifts
to pornography
—Jade Kleiner
shaker bottle...
another abandoned goal
in the bottom drawer
—Thomas Landgraf
dark night
I'm drunk but not
stepping on her jonquils
—Thomas Landgraf
Congratulations!
| rescue boat a boy's request for one more trip | Srinivasa Rao Sambangi |
| deep winter the flashing red lights at her bedside | Richard L. Matta |
| reeds until they move heron’s legs | Ravi Kiran |
| cursive writing — grandson’s thoughts fly beyond the margin | Neena Singh |
| country roads all of us singing of home | Jamie Wimberly |
| mother’s belongings in boxes gathering clouds | Alvin B. Cruz |
| a puzzle missing piece childhood | Robert Witmer |
| cold shower the nettles erect | Tony Williams |
| flashes of red in the rose bush a touch and go robin | Katie Montagna |
| far from home the familiar language of a robin | Ravi Kiran |
| divorce day mold on the bread getting darker | Hifsa Ashraf |
| the many dialects of silent treatment | Ravi Kiran |
| jisei book learning to write the last page | Oscar Luparia |
| harvest time the village waits for grandma’s dinner | Aleksandra Rybczyńska |
| stout beer not too warm not too cool this autumn night | Bryan Rickert |
| bruised fruit she says she fell | Joseph P. Wechselberger |
| another lie told to the wife ice fishing | Mircea Moldovan |
| washing my hands with French-milled soap after scattering her ashes | John J. Dunphy |
| Gaza Strip even the sparrows starving | Pitt Büerken |
| free at last rites | Susan Burch |
| sudden remembrance of an empty crib gentling rain | John Hawkhead |
| at both ends of winter burning leaf scent | Bryan Rickert |
| a year after— my mother's closet just her scent | Nicholas Gentile |
| winter rain we choose to say remission | Doug Belville |
| rain bow sun above rain below | Pitt Büerken |
| softly this conflagration of wings | Stacy R. Nigliazzo |
| petrichor the room overflowing with his laughter | Mohua Maulik |
| tangled roots– clinging to the walls of a broken home | Jagajit Salam |
| spring moon father's laugh some where | Manasa Reddy Chichili |
fading light. . .
the nurse hums
changing sheets
—Neena Singh
Christmas dinner
your empty chair
warmed by a coat
—Neena Singh
in my little room
devoid of your warm presence,
the fireworks bring me
closer to the sky above
as you drift away, my love
—Federico C. Peralta
summer stars--
lying on its back
hermit crab
—Federico C. Peralta
cold night—
an empty spider web
holds the moon
—Federico C. Peralta
(Last update, Jan 30, 2026) Email for submissions: journalcoldmoon(at)gmail(dot)com Editors: Timothy Daly, Oana Cercel. ~~~~ You may submi...