Tagged: new poetry

Pink Beach 2

A Photo of Maui

A photo Looking straight at you Of grand skies and Dramatic low-hanging clouds Of lustrous tropical plants and Sinewy trees There it is The warm beaches and soft sand, You feel the gentleness seep...

Tree Stump, Poetry Prose 0

Backyard Delight

Haibun Poem   The apple tree’s trunk split into two like outstretched open arms. A step onto a stump and an arm around one of the splits ensured an easy climb. Dean and I...

Happiness Poems, Sad Car 0

Happiness, Again?

Happiness Poems   Happiness, Again? She, the wife of his youth ne’er replaced her who bore him in time. His coming forth, a spitting cobra of bitterness not weaned but sharpened baby teeth, in reincarnation. No...

Alone in the Desert 0

93 Million Miles

Our shadows are the only thing That stops sunlight that has traveled 93 million miles from reaching its final destination And when I think I am incapable of impacting change in my tiny, insignificant...

Dark Thoughts 0

Dream

First There is Darkness Then Light Then I am falling Twisting and turning Falling forever I hear the distant laughter Of my friends My enemies My love Then I land I’m Upside down Falling...

Twilight 0

Hospital Elevator

Hospital Elevator after Mark Strand Three floors including a restricted level. Not one highlighted. A woman steps in and asks where to. “I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “I don’t push buttons.” Three floors...

Mona Lisa 0

Need to Change

easier said than done when you see yourself in the mirror and don’t like the picture hypnotized by illusions touch the glass and you will acknowledge the distortions and colourless flowers drunk with poisoned...

Snow Pines, Prose Poetry 0

Snow Day?

Haibun (Prose Poetry)   The slumbering birch and maple trees sway back and forth. The lowest wisps of cloud enshroud the tallest in gray mist. Snow falls everywhere. Frankie and I sit at the...

Grey Nude 0

Excess

Artful vessel is the hand: encountering the world’s interstices, plumbing imperative and mystery. It is infant and mother in rapt communion, a supplicant’s devotion distilled in a clasp, lotus of ethereal apsara in bloom,...

Rose 0

The Language of Love

Love is not afraid of cliche, for when it speaks all words expressed before are rendered mute.   more by LUCAS HOWARD Photograph by Denist Soh

She 1

Yellow Curry

Do my insides change color when I eat yellow curry? Is the bubble gum still there from when I swallowed it in first grade? What of my life sticks to the insides, changes it...

Winter 0

A Perfect Storm In Winter

ice falling from the sky smiles on my face and the coldness of the day a perfect storm in winter wrapped with fear for tomorrow I salute the spinning wheel and join the wind...