By Pat Davis

along a thread

that connects us

the lark's song 

 

Pat Davis

By Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

are rubies

simply fragments

of forgotten dreams

it is possible

that we once lived

as the dust between sand

Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

By Neena Singh

unshed tears

the space between

our meeting

Neena Singh

By Christine L. Villa

after his death missing his silence

Christine L. Villa

By Pat Davis

stillness

the rising mist

in my whispers

Pat Davis

By B.A. France

autumn rain...

down payment on

spring gardens

B.A. France

By Pippa Phillips

Daylight

trickling into the subway—

satori.

Pippa Phillips

By B.A. France

cloudless sky...

memories of summer

blackberry preserves

B.A. France

By Pat Geyer

clouds

overtake stars

moon runs

behind darkness...

a race til morning

Pat Geyer

By Taofeek Ayeyemi

forenoon nap . . .

woken by the clinks

of cowbells

 

Taofeek Ayeyemi

By John J. Dunphy

deserted ranch

the corral fence bounded

by a sagebrush

John J. Dunphy

By Pippa Phillips

The taste of sloe gin

underneath the blackthorn boughs—

a blossom-veiled moon.

Pippa Phillips

By Pat Davis

eyes closed

the water lily

becomes a lotus

Pat Davis

By B.A. France

Poppy Seeds

swearing

right hands raised ...

lone veteran salutes

packing bags

   called again

      peace and war

silently walking

arlington cemetery 

— old rose garden

B.A. France

By Pat Davis

experimental forms

the topology

of haiku

Pat Davis

By Taofeek Ayeyemi

strumming violin . . .

the garden sweeper

adds to the melody

 

Taofeek Ayeyemi

By Pat Geyer

in a pile

of leaves

sounds of a child's

scattered laughter...

i remember hope

Pat Geyer

By Peter Jastermsky

senior years a few leaves left to fall

Peter Jastermsky

By B.A. France

warm cigar ash    silent conversation

B.A. France

By Christine L. Villa

bullet train how fast can I forget you 

 

Christine L. Villa

By Pippa Phillips

Moonlit dewdrop —

the last grain

of rice.

Pippa Phillips

By John J. Dunphy

used-book store

its dusty true-crime section

covered with fingerprints

John J. Dunphy

By Peter Jastermsky

morning despair a shoelace goes untied 

 

Peter Jastermsky

By Neena Singh

a soft impulse

echoes from the past—

mountain breeze

Neena Singh

By Roberta Beach Jacobson

I sense

the coin is cursed

(evil witch)

so I pick it up to pocket

being a believer in fairy tales

Roberta Beach Jacobson

By John J. Dunphy

homeless encampment

returning children share

their trick or treat candy

John J. Dunphy

By Peter Jastermsky

mudflats

the walking stick

deep and still

 

Peter Jastermsky

By Debbie Strange

the sheen

of glass gem corn . . .

heirloom pearls

Debbie Strange