A Pit In My Stomach

wild-fig-2760515_1280

By Carolyn Black

If today I die
A fig tree may grow
From a pit in my stomach
To mark my grave
In years to come
The compost of my body
Feed the seed
The warm sun tempt the sprout
To rise upwards
Roots securely wrapped
Around my ribs
Providing the seedling
With calcium
Making it grow tall and strong
The fruits from my body
Will live on
In perpetuity

Advertisements

Sunday Afternoon In Rattlesnake Canyon

lake-2617323_1280

By M. Thomas Ellis

Halfway down
I leaned against an old oak
unduly envious of it
and so much more.

I looked up
waited for an autumn leaf to fall
just one for me to focus on
but in its own time.

I was prepared to watch it tumble
end over brittle end
down to the creek below
curious what might happen next.

A breeze coaxed
the right leaf fell
I watched it catch the current
and drift out of sight.

You will always be my muse.

What I Had Forgotten

girl-1666678_1280

By stevieslaw

Spring came on reluctantly this year—
like the probing of a diffident lover,
uncertain of welcome.
It gave me time to remember
how much the heat of the new sun
felt like a caress
and how the breeze from the south
made me feel like shedding layers—
clothing and skin,
and running wild-hearted
through the first green.

      
Steve Deutsch’s work has most recently appeared in Literary Heist, Nixes Mate Review, Third Wednesday, Misfit Magazine, Word Fountain, Eclectica Magazine, and The Ekphrastic Review. In 2017, he was nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

The Arching Tree

sky-3112484_1280

By Elianna Mayer

He stands still,
Nervously
Elegantly
Holding branches of hopes
And dreams and sun-kissed leaves.

They wrestle,
There’s music, There’s wind.
They play. And he laughs
For above is the sky
But the joy shaded his lonely soul
They spoke to him in ways but words.
And he was in his prime.

Until the magic left his bones,
And the leaves left his side.
Death took toll inevitably,
Painfully, one at a time.
They fell before his rooted trunk,
And now he only could bow down.
Wounded soul, he arched with grasping hands.
Sky, give me back what was once mine.

Frozen Leaves

beech-561926_1280

By Eliannamayer

Frozen leaves,
Don’t exhibit much life.
Caught in a moment between.

Captured and captivated,
In intricacies good and bad.
Lush green, jammed
Icy cold.

If you drop it cold, it will break.
and I,
looking at this frozen leaf
ask for a similar fate.
Icy, cold has no time for warm emotion
Numb is the way to go.

Feeling broken inside, go ahead and break me.
I too am caught in a moment between,
almost feeling hopeful and inevitable dread.
It seems, the girl with blisters is better dead.

The Field

freedom-1712590_1920

editors pick

By Ali Grimshaw

A crack,

followed by a breaking open.

As the walls fall,

you will no longer be contained,

held separate.

Grieve and they shall crumble,

until the last stone is still

Leaving you in a field of golden openness.

Wide and light,

No need for protection

Bare

In the warm air.

     
Bio: Ali Grimshaw is a poet and blogger. Her blog called flashlight batteries, https://flashlightbatteries.wordpress.com/, offers hope for those struggling in the darkness and a mirror for tough times in life.

Leaves (by Lemongrass)

leaves
artwork provided by author

By Anonymous

Leaves of autumn fly low,
With the wind that blows on the pavements;
Nobody knows where they go,
By the evening twilight,
They fly away …

And when summer comes.

Leaves of spring bloom out,
From twigs and branches anew;
At the tips, lush green
They shine bright in the sunlight,
And nod their dainty heads too.

Then one day they grow old,
Mellowed and brown.. they go cold;
And they hang from the boughs,
Silent and morose …

Glistening with the dew that falls,
Enshrouded within the darkness,
Waiting on a windless night..
To fall off unawares.