Kauai
By Mary Lu Everett
I see you sitting on the patio
Slouched back
Soaking up the sun and the morning
White floppy sail cloth hat
Worn tee shirt
Baggy shorts
Barefoot
Big Smile
People you know & people who know people you know. learn more
By Mary Lu Everett
I see you sitting on the patio
Slouched back
Soaking up the sun and the morning
White floppy sail cloth hat
Worn tee shirt
Baggy shorts
Barefoot
Big Smile
By Annemarie Dietzgen
Sometimes, when I paint,
I dance a dance of counterpoint
where I begin with an X,
and counter with a Y:
As in the movement of a line
where,
the vertical stroke demands to be followed by one good horizontal;
or, maybe, the horizontal begs to be slashed
right down the middle by a vertical;
or, maybe, even, out of the blue,
an exhilarated diagonal liberates itself and shoots off the canvas.
As in a duet of complements
where,
the yellow gets sick of being yellow and demands a splash of purple;
or, maybe, a blue hankers after an interruption of orange;
or, red won’t go anywhere without green.
As in shadow and light
where,
the dark insists upon at least
a spot of pure white aligned against it
so as to become the blackness that it is.
In this way, the painting progresses in its spiraling search for balance
Until the need for a final dangling element, the final touch
a point without a counter
(the balance of the entirety is threatened!)
but, no, the magic holds
barely.
By Jan Dederick
Memories of elder women of past years.
Jo, next door neighbor, who complained that,
at 68, she needs to rest after only a very
short stint of yard work. She chided us, newly moved in
By Carl Kopman
Less is more…
A designation …A resignation…
That I am
in a state of…
What’s it called…
By Michael Smith
Alone we come
Down the chute,
A first breath shout of victory.
No name, no words, no separation.
Silence…
Just being, pure being.
By John Rowe
below the moonrise
at a neighborhood diner
an old man sits alone
waits for his order
to be taken
By Jeannette DesBoine
I’m gonna dance the soft shoe
By Martina Reaves
My heart cracks open.
Ann, my friend for fifty years,
lost in a coma.
By Rasunah Katz
Name it the silence that accompanied all creation
Name it the wordlessness of animals
Name it does not live by the sword
Name it does not hold a grudge
By Carl Kopman
Lovers and friends never have ends