Poetry

He is not from the arid or barren foreign lands His faded-green-coat, hooded sweater, his dog-tag, his canteen, and his metal cup on a green worn out blanket, all tell me, he is one of our bravest men who proudly ...

Adultery I'd bang them out, wine-drunk and excited, and send them off to magazines. I had two lists; ones which liked me and ones I liked, and I'd fire them unedited like a shotgun scaring birds. each one 5 times ...

BARBARIANS AT THE GATES Once Rome attained its pinnacle Remained on top of things. Though forces quite inimical Sought to destruction bring. Some conquered thought despicable Rome’s impositioning Of laws it deemed applicable When “Pax-Romana”-ing Four centuries continuous Spanned Romans’ ...

Bob’s Terminal Bay Wracked by cancer, Bob Marley told his friend, “It’s not me, Camille.” No, it’s never me when self-determination’s at an end. For, navigating pain, you cannot see but knots ahead. And you’re preoccupied with hoisting sails against ...

A flight separates the sea from the sky. Her glance caresses the stillness. The flowers scathed by hail become bluish. They do not die, yet. This life without him is like the plenitude seen with one eye. Her right convictions ...

MURDER INK It was that innocent and silent night, when all souls were hibernating and the cockerels were roosting, that the ambience was polluted. A thousand unthankfullness to the wordsmith, for waking up his lethal injection from its long coma ...

TRICK OR TREAT? "Good Christians" warn that Halloween's A festival of Satan, When nothing's standing in between Your soul and its damnation. For centuries, they witches burned With little provocation. Eternal fire claimed they'd earned. For mercy -- strangulation! The ...

■ Sending My Love Across The Distance Our childhood was shared with laughter and tears. Two grown women talking over coffee warmed up my mind whenever I thought ahead, but where has that future gone now? We never saw that ...

HERE (By Melissa R. Mendelson) There is no other place that I would ever consider home but here, and here is a world far from perfect. We are still divided. Our emotions rage on from issues in our life and ...

The Fiction of Art Captive on canvas, a gray-haired man stands, palms outstretched, shoulders in deep shrug, pleading with a woman bone-thin with rage who aims an arthritic finger at him. An orange cat cowers under a corner table. How ...