Poetry

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 ...

when they are gone, mourn them as you knew them soluble as the elements they were- water soil fire air. sat at the bar in smoke whiskey pint- slow craic drifting in out of banter in stories someone's laughter turning ...

Human hair is the new currency. Bald people have done something to deserve poverty. There’s a slight gender imbalance; that’s nature’s way. Did you see on the net – that girl, never had it cut before, down to her hips ...

You are a gap in my room, a missing tooth my roving tongue of a mind keeps returning to. You are a voice missing from the house, the quieted flutter of your presence a flat-line through these rooms. You are ...