Cold Moon Journal

Cold Moon Journal
Photo c. Alf B. Meier

Sunday, November 3, 2024

By Robert Kania

from where

the wind is blowing

an election flyer

Robert Kania

By Joshua St. Claire

two racks of antlers collapsing stars


Joshua St. Claire

By Michael Minassian

Because it has 3 lines

and you mention spring

doesn’t make it a haiku.

Michael Minassian

By Joseph Howse

silence

as shrill

as a shriek

Joseph Howse

By Herb Kitson

shattered dreams—

I stay behind

to pick up the pieces

Herb Kitson

By Robert Epstein

pre-autumn breeze

she brushes her hair

to take out the trash

Robert Epstein

By Mike Gallagher

six crocodiles

a thousand years

among the reeds


Mike Gallagher


struggling

up the hill

stragglers

Mike Gallagher

By Alexis Rotella

To become a butterfly

I spill out

my guts

Alexis Rotella

 

 

tree frog a pendant I'll never wear around my neck


Alexis Rotella

 

 

a note to myself reminding me to eat

Alexis Rotella

By RJ Humbl’

Tired old gent

Up the Apple and Pears

And done

RJ Humbl’



Cup of Rosie

With each warm embrace

Steam leaves

RJ Humbl’

Friday, November 1, 2024

By Pitt Büerken

skyscraper

the window cleaner comes

from above


Pitt Büerken



joyride

the engine oil level

warning light flashes


Pitt Büerken



winter approaches

a summer love ends

for good

Pitt Büerken

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

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