poem, writing, poetry, drabble
By Bella
I am black metal
Graphite
Gray lines separating good and evil
Right and wrong
(I am made of in-betweens)
I am magnetite
Crafted of iron and strength
Dark hues that try to hide glittering eyes
I act worse than I am
(Try-hard)
I am raw hematite
Ugly, unpolished
Never sharp
Some days, I’m more talc than iron
Some days, I’m all talk
Who I want to be and who I am
Are two opposite poles
There is no way to meet in the middle
By John Grey
Dress like undertakers,
drop from phone wires
to the roadkill below –
their caw is light on melody,
high on triumph –
ELLA
I still have
the record
she left behind
though I haven’t
seen her in years.
I play it
from time to time,
think of her
now and again.
Do them both together
and I run the risk
of dancing.
JEREMY
Lolls all day
in a beat-up rocker
outside a rusty trailer,
drinking and cackling away.
He has no kids of his own
to ask what he did in the war.
If he did,
they wouldn’t have to ask.
Bio: John Grey’s work has recently appeared in Front Range Review, Studio One and Columbia Review. He has work upcoming in Naugatuck River Review, Abyss and Apex and Midwest Quarterly.
By Carol Smallwood
Acoustic shadows occur when sound fails to travel
due to wind currents, buildings and obstructions
making soldiers think their minds must’ve unraveled
because what else could it be, what deductions?
Due to wind currents, buildings and obstructions
soldiers can smell smoke, see light from battle
because what else could it be, what deductions,
since sound didn’t reach them fighting in saddle.
Soldiers can smell smoke, see light from battle
making soldiers think their minds must’ve unraveled
since sound didn’t reach them fighting in saddle.
Acoustic shadows occur when sound fails to travel.
Carol Smallwood’s recent poetry collections include In Hubble’s Shadow and Prisms, Particles, and Refractions.
Dissolve into the ether,
these vapors to binge and purge,
resting in street cracks to grow
the seeded wishes of dandelions,
debated as weed or flower,
embrace or destroy,
sun-colored pedals soaked in exhaust,
mulched into fallen bodies run down
by dogma, political strife,
alienation.
The family on bent knees prays,
the man in the van prays,
the mourners pray,
bringing flowers suffocated in
cellophane, piled high into
sickly colored trash,
dyed like cotton candy carnival
while dandelions wilt under
the weight of our grief, tilling
another killing season and blooms
of thoughts and prayers
By Heidi Coon
She whispers, ‘just breathe’
The only way out, is through
Should you fall beneath
Truth laid bare for you
The only way out is through
Weighted pain pulls you under
Truth laid bare for you
Ire turned surrender
Weighted pain pulls you under
The solace of nothingness
Ire turned surrender
Lungs filled with emptiness
The solace of nothingness
How easy to just let go
Lungs filled with emptiness
No grievance toward the throe
Your pain, your grief, your sorrow
Should you fall beneath
Today renders tomorrow
She whispers, ‘just breathe’
By Hugo Jay
A calm sea against sandy beaches
Rolling hills
A cloudless sky
Flower-filled meadows and warm breezes and sunshine
The crickets chirp to say goodbye to the sun
And the birds chirp to greet it
Worry is gone
Fear is gone
All is peaceful and quiet and clear and bright
Muscles relaxed
Breathing steady
I bathe in the light of a new day
The animals calm
And the air whispers in my ear
I am free
By Ivor Steven
I’ve been waiting inside,
For that never-never ride.
Wishing for that little shrug,
To turn into a dream-time hug.
I’ve been waiting outside,
Trying not to hide.
Wishing for that little smile,
To travel one more mile.
I’ve been waiting all day,
Calling out, please stay.
Wishing for that little heartbeat,
To lay down at my feet.
I’ve been waiting all night,
For that one-way flight.
Wishing for that little dove,
To glide over my love.
I’ve been waiting, seems forever,
Crying quietly, oh whatever.
Wishing for that little embrace,
To become my last dance.
