Poetry

Scorpion I touched a scorpion; it struck. It was my fault; I had been warned – But for one split second Its beauty-fascination wrenched me From reason’s ice. I don’t think anyone could find a scorpion ugly, They shine too ...

Tangled Drawing the cross slices tramline nuggets, Sizing out torture’s cavity, Wrenching the hopeful – slashes, threads all. The anchor is split, tossed on a shroud, The elements burgeoning right. The chain is rusted, marking starfish, Shakes in a ticking ...

Vivaldi in Love (By John Biscello) Spring. tender bud raising gravity in the center of a palm. Summer. drawn and quartered shafts of light mouthing the sea. Fall. fetal leaves curling in on themselves— inversion banking on faith. Winter. hospitable conjoinment ...

Hope I bring sunshine in your day, A spark in your eyes, Spread smile in your sinking heart, I fill warmth in your body I am hope, a ray - The silver lining behind the dark clouds The embers in ...

A RED RANT (By Joseph Cavera) To all, I wonder everyday...why all of my friends, enemies, and acquaintances alike are crying and slowly edging towards sheer insanity...is there nothing that you can show alacrity over? Do your actions and words ...

We moved from filth to slime, It wasn't swift, it took some time But movement came and we progressed. We moved, from place to place, Stayed a while and then we chased Our dreams to rainbow's feet. We moved, from ...

Goodnight Sweet City Goodnight by Mike Matter Goodnight sweet city, goodnight Hold your evening close by and ready the mid-morning-missed realization of sunrise Fly your noise through the heights of the rich and poor alike then scatter your ash over ...

Willie in his 80s now hadn’t made sense in years. His wife understood his grunts from the recliner where she propped him up till bedtime where snoring was music in the night. His grandson told neighbors Gramps had Old-Timer’s Disease, ...

Connections Sheen caps ground rails Soaking harsh sleepers To rattle mud-flounced trains. Drizzle dusts, Grinding against itself, Sparking the tracks’ sheen With casual exasperation; Blinding the gravel Kicking in panic Against the basalt of its being. The lifeline Brine polishes ...

Stone Slate - By Melissa R. Mendelson They tell me that I am alive. If that were so, shouldn’t I breathe? Listen to your heart, and I’m stupid for listening once more. I don’t hear anything. Check your pulse. “I ...