Author: admin

ALL THAT WE NEVER SAID BY R. NIKOLAS MACIOCI

Jim, my high school friend, reclines on the lawn, rolls newspapers for his four ‘o clock route. I like watching. It’s a quiet, July afternoon, Mosquitoes, close as a bad dream, pester my head, distract me from staring at his...

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WHEREVER I GO! BY LINDA S. GUNTHER

     “Wherever you go, there you are!” This original quote came from Thomas à Kempis in a spiritual work he crafted in the 1400’s. This was likely meant to be amusing but when you think about it, it is truly a profound...

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FROM THE TREE OF LIFE BY STEVEN R. WEINER

Worn down by touch Hanging slack from my shoulders Like two empty nets, These two hands hold fruit, A life that’s sliced in half, some Damage has been done Although the blade was sharp As a lonely day, Sharp enough To slit a...

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HAMELECH (THE MONARCH) BY STEVEN R. WEINER

Forgive me my oversight, The stubborn ways I never notice You, a Monarch among butterflies With designs for a universe Drawn with black ink on your yellow wings The size of a child’s palm—You, who rose from a caterpillar’s bed,...

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THIS IS THE TRUTH BY STEVEN R. WEINER

The moon half full of light Sounds like the wind, With a hush as it withdraws With a tiny noise, a little clank. Maybe just the halyard clasp against a flagpole, Maybe the moon against discarded satellite antennas. But I’m aware...

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EVENING BY ELLEN ROBERTS YOUNG

Beige walks in and other colors pale—red loses its anger, blue its hope. It’s rain on their parade without water to bring new growth. She’s unmoved by sun or shadow, brings herbal tea to her reading chair, lets it cool. Not...

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FORMATION BY ELLEN ROBERTS YOUNG

Three horse brasses, bought in England in 1930, hang from the mantel; a Japanese print hangs above, gift of a house guest in 1965. Only the fire below is mine —I bought the wood— the rest, inheritance, gift acquired through...

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OVER THE DAM BY ELLEN ROBERTS YOUNG

Little fishies swim—Mama said to— right over the dam, find themselves in a flowing river. When we sang that song, our small hands pressed together making S curves before the plunge, we could not imagine water in short supply,...

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THE OVERGROWN GARDEN BY EILEEN VAN HOOK

The pebbled path leads to an overgrown garden where roses tumble over each other and daffodils droop in the heat. Swans glide across the pond which is as deep and silent as a held breath. A pregnant woman sits, as if frozen, on...

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