Category: Poetry

Publishing poetry, fiction, non-fiction, & visual art from creative minds around the world.
A comprehensive literary magazine that publishes writers and artists of all ages.

WAKING TO THE SPRING BY JENNIFER GURNEY

waking to this new day dusted with early-spring snow the Earth still sleeps wrapped in an extra blanket with hot coffee and a cat on my lap I warm to the day one foot still in night reluctantly stepping into day I let this poem...

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DIAMONDING BY JENNIFER GURNEY

I love to be filled with the rejuvenation that creating brings steeped in nature on a warm, sunny day the sun diamonding off the lake as pelicans lift in flight circling the lake to fish then landing, waterski-like on the...

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UNSPOKEN BY JENNIFER GURNEY

I see you pass on the trail where I live and I smile I recognize you since you visit often I say hello you turn as if you hear my unspoken words you are one of the few who can actually hear me when you stop to take pictures of...

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RIVER SONG BY JENNIFER GURNEY

the sun melts me in Rocky Mountain spring I rush to meet you my song sings of joy to be warm at last moving freely, flowing forward when I see you I know without a doubt it is you, it’s always been you I long to stop for just a...

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NOSES: AN ODE BY SARAH WHITE

(in memory of my father and uncles) I am seventeen and go to Spain where I stare at men with Spanish noses, Spanish chins. While Madrileños do not seem to mind or find it strange that a foreign girl would stare at them, what...

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DECAMERON BY SARAH WHITE

Boccaccio hoped his brilliant book would be perused by lovely women alone in their beds. Each of his hundred tales would leap like a cat onto her coverlet, and twist its body this way and that inviting her caresses on its belly,...

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SPHINX BY SARAH WHITE

A Sphinx in the museum wears the face of a woman and the body of a marble lion— You used to call me “Sphinxie” when you asked me a question, claiming I “knew everything” though I tried to tell you the ancient Sphinx only asked...

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CONGO BELGE BY JOHN SUROWIECKI

In the Congo important people were like ghosts: leaving notes in the hum of fans: pleas for advancement, ahems of gossip, rules of order, dire hosannas. Only the stamps are reminders that there was such a place and there were...

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INDUSTRY ON PARADE BY JOHN SUROWIECKI

Mrs. Natura upstairs shushes us: it’s time: for her late husband’s favorite show: a real factory rat, he was: familiar with how blue windows cast gigantic pools of blue light: how whole shifts lined up for salt in...

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