Cold Moon Journal

Cold Moon Journal
Photo c. Alf B. Meier

Wednesday, January 6, 2021

Mirela Brăilean

winter Galaxy

a drop of milk

in my coffee


Mirela Brăilean

Sunday, January 3, 2021

By Cherry A

origami cranes ...

another winter

without dad


Cherry A

By Stephen Toft

autumn leaves

swept aside for

the mourners


Stephen Toft

By Mirela Brăilean

first frost

over the chrysanthemums

mom's shawl


Mirela Brăilean

Thursday, December 31, 2020

By Jackie Chou

love letter

his promises

paper-thin


Jackie Chou

By R. Suresh Babu

winter moon …

the drunk and his dog

whine together


R. Suresh Babu

By Ram Chandran

you are my roots

holding me to grounds

my flower

adding colours to my life

and fragrance to soul


Ram Chandran

Saturday, December 26, 2020

By Jackie Chou

my mother

remembered

for her better days

the brief blooming

of cactus flowers


Jackie Chou

By Milan Rajkumar

pandemic . . . 

wasted olympic fireworks 

beside mount fuji

 

Milan Rajkumar

By Pat Davis

morning heat

a pine drops dew

across my face


Pat Davis

By Nikolay Grankin

first light

petroglyphs

on the stone


Nikolay Grankin

By Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

solar flare

what you 

couldn’t hide


Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

Friday, December 25, 2020

By Neena Singh

stars glow

in my grandson's eyes

the blur in mine


Neena Singh

Thursday, December 24, 2020

By Susan Bonk Plumridge

cardamon cloves

cinnamon black pepper 

steeping my chai


Susan Bonk Plumridge

By Bidyutprabha Gantayay

seasonings

reside

in mama's apron -

coriander soup

her welcome note


Bidyutprabha Gantayay

Monday, December 21, 2020

By Bidyutprabha Gantayay

flavour of

Christmas cake -

fingers crossed


Bidyutprabha Gantayay

By Nikolay Grankin

morning exercise

the disapproving look

of my cat


Nikolay Grankin

Sunday, December 20, 2020

By Neena Singh

a fragrance

of orange blossoms—

where the old dog rests


Neena Singh

By Dianne Cikusa

sanctity of shadows

wildlife regenerates

in leafy vestibule


Dianne Cikusa

By Jackie Chou

awaking

to an orange sunrise

do dreams

turn into pumpkins

if left unwritten
 

Jackie Chou