Tag: Poem

Two Poems

Richard LeDue

A Near Empty Hallway

I wait,
while you tie your shoe,
laces limp
as dead worms,
but when
has it ever been
any other way?

Descents

Sleep brings rest to this bottomless pit.
Morning a chance to taste broken ribs,
smashed on an end table next to the bed,
my own blood
reminds me of chewed on asbestos
that politician made a joke about,
while my father held a picket sign,
gave the reporter the wrong name
to avoid upsetting the wrong people.

Sometimes I hear myself snore,
feel my body gone limp
like someone who leaped from a plane
only to realize the parachute won’t open.

Richard LeDue was born in Sydney, Nova Scotia, Canada, but currently lives in Norway House, Manitoba with his wife and son. His poems have appeared in various publications throughout 2019, and more work is forthcoming throughout 2020, including a chapbook from Kelsey Books.

Rust

Paula Wood

Entropy
shows
its passage
like
the curling rose
like
coffee dusted
on the metal of us.

Paula Wood lives in the North East of England and loves to write. This is the first time her poetry has been published.

lockdown in britain looks a lot like my love life

Matthew Whisker

dead bird on the bus
politicians are all shit
romance has died
all my friends are ghosts

Matthew Whisker is a writer from Lincoln, England. He is on the autistic spectrum. He has a passion for normalising and breaking the taboo of mental health through his writing. He is currently studying at the University of Lincoln. He currently serves on the editorial team for The Lincoln Review and Bitter Fruit Review. His work has been published in several publications, including Lucky Pierre Zine and Doghouse Press. He has work forthcoming in Push Up Daisies! and Lemon Curd Magazine.

Dead Ends

Jason de Koff

They planted periwinkle on her plot,
but the infernal winds,
released the marrow’s moisture,
revealing the soil’s dry bones.

The dust that blew
infected airways,
poisoning the lungs and souls,
who visited afterwards.

The lashed sticks had broken,
and now lay among a detritus,
of crusted lace and broken glass,
collected along peeling fenceposts.

The sun’s rays don’t reach here,
this forgotten depression,
of how things used to be,
shrine to what could have been.

Jason de Koff is an associate professor of agronomy and soil science at Tennessee State University.  He lives in Nashville, TN with his wife, Jaclyn, and his two daughters, Tegan and Maizie. He has published in a number of scientific journals, and recently had poetry accepted in other literary journals. His short story, ‘The Gods of Indianapolis’, was published in 2014 in the Mythic Indy anthology published by Well Done Marketing. Follow Jason on Twitter (@JasonPdK3) or Instagram (@jasondekoff).

spider-silking

Jasmine Flowers

Jasmine Flowers is a well-watered poet from Birmingham, AL. Her favorite flowers should be jasmines, but she loves peonies too. She received her BA in English from the University of Alabama. Currently, she is a poetry editor for Variant Literature Journal. Her poems are published in Cypress: A Literary Journal, dreams walking, Rejection Letters, and more. Follow her on Twitter (@jas_flow).

Think of the Thing We Saw

Aaron Sandberg

when on our porch after the first fight,
buzzing, looking to the ridge of the roof
where two weathered halves met—

some budding hive abandoned
for a better place, or equally likely,
beautifully but terribly beginning

Aaron Sandberg resides in Illinois where he teaches. His recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Asimov’s Science Fiction, English Journal, Drunk Monkeys, The Racket, Writers Resist, Yes Poetry, Unbroken, One Sentence Poems, Vita Brevis Press, Literary Yard, and elsewhere. You might find him—though socially-distant—on Instagram (@aarondsandberg).

Untitled

Rae Rozman

I just forgot the word for penguin…

If I have forgotten this,
what’s next?
The taste of coffee burning my throat?
The feel of your name brushing my lips?

To define essential in any language
is to admit
what will be the first to go.
The adjectives?
The memory of stars exploding
into fireworks —
or were they fireflies?
The enormity of us?

Rae Rozman is a middle school counselor in Austin, Texas. Her poetry often explores themes of queer love (romantic and platonic), loss, and education. You can find her on Instagram (@mistress_of_mnemosyne) sharing poems, book reviews, and pictures of her two adorable rescue bunnies.

aperture

mercy party

there is a comfort
in slipping unfated
failing to grip the rail
when there is no way
to get away with just covering
a small tear in your sail

mercy party provides no context about the author other than what is within the words

I sleep a poem

Lynn Caldwell

after my eyes fill
with words
coming in
an open window
one ear to the pillow
the other to the moon
a sage wand wafting
over my prone body
under a canopy
of my own dark sky

Lynn Caldwell‘s work has been published in Crosswinds Poetry Journal; Dedalus Press’s anthology WRITING HOME; The Irish Times for March 2019’s Hennessy New Irish Writing Award; Cassandra Voices; and The Antigonish Review, and has featured on Irish radio’s Sunday Miscellany. Lynn blogs here.