One Poem Only

Stillness of Light

J. Ishaan

The wind runs wild across empty ground— no footsteps, no voice, no soul to meet its cry. The sun slips away, its final rays brushing the earth in tender, fading gold— a …

Accidental Birds

Deborah Howard

Let’s meet beyond the ticking of clocks where the river flows over smooth stone and wildflowers lace the muddy banks. I will come over the stone wall, knees bloodied fr…

A memorial service before death

Adheena S Farhan

a house/ before it’s a funeral home/ is a pitstop for God. a hot midafternoon always seems to linger/ past welcome. I live in that part of the world/ …

When I die, lay me down under a willow tree facing my mountains dressed in blue. Bury me in the costume jewelry my grandmother gave me- a ring on every finger two on each pinky and thumb. Put me in…

Playground

David Park

In the spheres the playgrounds are alive! Excitement pours forth in laughter and tears. What’s now and what’s next is felt as the vibrations ripple through the air. Rising up…

The Bleeding of Dreams

Dean Charpentier

for Andrea Gibson “Who possesses a perfect soul?” — Rimbaud I am reading Rimbaud on my porch when I hear you have died. It is a thick July morning. The cei…

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead.

Aug 25 - Unfinished Men by Miss Greenwood @_miss_greenwood_ on Instagram and YouTube. Miss Greenwood on Substa…

This poem first appeared in Flora/Fauna an internationally curated book of eco-poetry and photography, edited by Pete Taylor and published by Open Shutter Press

Paper Boats

Donna Burke Esgro

I am a ri…

When two writers fall in love, they amuse each other weaving words And when at war with each other, they use equal amount of flowery words as swords. - Neeta S

More from Neeta S ↓

* @pahadan.write…

Wild Acolyte

Jenny Beldame

If my body is a temple I am its priest I will offer it the strongest grains my grandfathers did not farm the land for me to starve I will pluck the ripest, juiciest fruit…

What I love about women’s sports

Lauren Mantis

It’s the sweat / the ponytails / the surprise of acrylic nails / women moving like predators instead of prey / the endurance / the focus / their serio…

a soul of no age, shifting in and out of internal organs, white blood cells curse, being held back in the busy traffic of the body. signs flash with warnings of disturbance, the heart screams in agon…

Unfinished Men

Miss Greenwood

I can no longer burn for two. And certainly not for three. It's that truth which might shake your comfort zone, but in the end - it sets me free. Seeing potential with…

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead.

Aug 18 - As I sit frustrated at the world’s apathies by Mar Lamar @marlamarrr on Instagram. Listen to her song…

Home

Narayani Goenka

I scratch the walls till my nails break.. till the sound of the scratch sends an unrelenting wave of anxiety through my body till there is a forced call in me to stop. I submer…

Hope is Dancing

James Roethlein

Lying alone each night, empty arms aching, all the while hope is dancing hope is dancing hope is danc…

I Seek Solace I Seek Peace

Ro Hefzu

I lost my chance at education, My possessions scattered like fallen leaves, Obliged to forsake my heritage, I buried my treasures deep in the earth. Most of…

In which I explain myself

Alex Dawson

I want the garden, not the flowers in their sterile vase, I want the bees, the fruit, the soil under my nails, I want to make a meal of what is true. The grit a…

She will always be an unfinished poem. Unfinished in the way she lives - where passion collides with fear, and potential and failure reside in the same home. There is this great risk, a constant edg…

As I sit frustrated at the world’s apathies I see my daughter happily chasing light leaks spilling through the window they’re doing their own dance breaking up the room’s darkness “I’m chasin…