Ocean Poem
By Michael Smith
A Window Away
By Nandini Raisurana
I looked out of the window and saw a little boy
He gave me a weak smile.
His tattered rags tearing against my cashmere
His tear-stained helpless eyes that bore into my suspicious, interrogating pair
His famished, fragile body nervous before my healthy one that I was too conscious of.
We belonged to two different worlds,
All I had to do was smile back.
An Invitation
By Michael Smith
Bengal Tiger
By Tatianna Sanabria
Tonight I saw myself for the first time.
With long, undulating caramel colored hair.
An off white cotton pajama dress with small pink flowers dancing about me
I saw my face.
My sparkling almond shaped eyes that looked up at him
I saw the courage and determination in my heart
The willingness to love what I could not understand.
Tonight I accept what happened. I accept that it did happen.
I welcome this courageous being who has held her secret for so long.
I hear myself growl a warning at him.
So he knows
I’m no longer alone
This is my house now.
Ebb and Flow
By Allison Blair
It’s been happening since you were four…
And every time, I force myself to see the silver lining
To twist the situation and absorb the sadness into my pleasure.
Whenever you are feeling anxious, worried, overwhelmed or out of control,
You snuggle closer, hold on tighter…
You are speaking my love language and
My heart and soul soak up every second of it
And give it back to you tenfold.
Yet I also know that this closeness at nighttime snuggle
Is a sign of insecurity
As you make your way slowly out into the world in your first 18 years.
The steps out into independence are solid at times
And tentative at others, sometimes even easing back…
At those times, you want to snuggle tighter
Seeking reassurance that we are here
Reassurance that the scary world is surmountable with love behind you.
Four Poems
By David Schweidel
I AM NOT A POET
2 Poems
By Nandini Raisurana
Part 1: My Walk to Death
My head throbbing.
My eyes stinging.
My lungs screaming.
My heart shaking.
Selected Poetry
By Kate Brubeck
Plumberotica
Good Vibrations has nothing on Ashby Plumbing Supplies.
It’s a man’s world in here, from the lengths
of copper tubing suspended in tumescent arcs
to the all-male clientele, hunch-shouldered in dimly lit recesses.
This is a narrative-free zone; the products get straight
to the point: Grrip! commands the label on one shelf,
Selected Poems
By Bruce Bagnell
Stupid Pencil
Pencil sits
in hand
continuing as pencil.
Kiko and Ikor
By Carl Kopman
Hi Kiko,
It’s September in the year 2016. I am 75 years old and you are not yet five and a half years old. You’ve just started kindergarten. I pick you up on Tuesdays and we go off to the YMCA for an hour of swimming in a shallow heated pool. You like to dive-bomb off the tiled edge splashing me with a spray of water and laughter twice your size. We also go to the gym where you arrange, climb upon, and jump large leather objects you move about to suit your purposes. They are bigger than you, but you heft them about and play wild for a time.