THERE WILL BE SPRINGBy Marc Yacht Cruel and cold are the winter monthsLiving beings pursue the warmthMany just huddle togetherTo overcome frigid weather. Lakes, ponds, and rivers, ice caked, stillEmpty trees shake, bend, and shiverDry chilled air and shadows prevailRare warm sun may offer relief. Freezing days and nights pass slowlyLife itself does move at…
Malachi Sinlao By Malachi Sinlao Vermilion my self-portrait is an ‘X’ slashed upon the canvas with the most vibrant of reds. the empty space is my body, ever invisible and out of reach, clinging to the cinnabar lines as if she could use them to climb out into the real world. the negative space is…
The Work of Holding On By Janet Blair We are camping in January. Scurrying away from the post-holiday silence of empty bedrooms. Borrowing, for a few nights, a state park lot where we can shrink to essentials and fill our lungs with now. Winged Elms decorate our campsite, their naked limbs stretching and yawning overhead,…
By John C. Carter Farmhouse on a Dirt Road Her ears, hearing him yell her name again as she stands there, half-way between the house and the car. His voice, hurling obscenities, making even the dogs hide. Her hand— not as convinced as his had been— falters in its reach for the gate. The chair…
BLACK BOOTS MARCH Black boots march across the nation Hands held high with straight stiff salute Confusion and fear mark the mood As more black shirted men gather.Did we ever expect them here With steel blue eyes and stern faces Seeking out the flawed and impure Yet, there they are an uncontrolled force.The lawful courts do now permitAn effort to allow…
Kenwood Resident (St Pete) Michael SingletonPublishes Childrens Poetry Book POETRY PARTY: A Children’s Poetry Book with Developmental and Optimistic Life Lessonsby Michael Singleton Step into a colorful world of inspiring tales where animals, children, and even shoes discover the beauty of being unique. In this heartwarming collection of rhythmic stories and poems, young readers will…
The stench of grief, loss and shock are everywhere permeating the area with smells of red tide and salt waterthat had crept into places that were never meant to know water in that way. Private areas of people’s livesbrutally exposed on their front lawns.Furniture strewn about, floorboards, kitchen cabinets, waterlogged stuffed animals a piano that still had songs…
Ambition My ambition is to work the words “Christ on a bike!” into a poem. But no doubt I will end up accomplishing nothing much more than managing to eke out a modicum of wonder as I sit at sunset and spot just the right amount of wantonly accumulated cumulus to catch a bit of…