Root – A Poem by JD DeHart
Down to the withered
reaching unseen tendrils
that till the tender soil
rhizome system yawning
the shoot appears to stand
firm but lightest leaning
causes the bud to tip over.
existence poems
In Memoriam – A Poem by Ian Fletcher
Many a day I pause to think
of those who have passed away
to become nothing but ashes
as insubstantial as a handful
of sand or dull clumps of clay,
with even the humblest creatures
that animate the world around me
like the ants, butterflies and bees
possessed of more life than they.
Oh, that the deceased left ghosts
at least there would thus remain
some vestige of them to be seen
or that there were a high heaven
where their souls dwelt eternally,
not this complete annihilation
with no salvation or damnation
for these who have ceased to be
that now haunt only my memory.
Autumn – A Poem by Marie MacSweeney
September creeps along anarchic grass.
In our garden plum trees bend
to the earth, each branch
a frail skirmish
across briars and barriers,
naked warriors
accepting no natural defeat.
It is autumn
and we have come
to gather in the fruit,
eat in our orchard,
think God is good,
but there are wasps and worms
feeding, and we have our own wars.
The Phantom – A Poem by Ian Fletcher
My past is a gray phantom
that haunts me wherever I go
hoarding all of my memories
and the people I used to know
a specter who countenances
no resurrections at my bidding
from his dark abysmal vaults.
He feeds on my experiences
thus gaining strength as I age
weighing on the here and now
annihilating what is to come
the pull of his gravity drawing me
backward into a land of shadows.
One day soon he will envelop
me completely in his darkness
and we shall be extinguished
at the very moment of union
into everlasting nothingness.
Birdsong – A Poem by Nancy May
birdsong
wakes my dreams
broken branches
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A Selection of Small Poems by Rebecca Cowgill
night’s end
silhouettes of stars
lay in the sun’s shadow
—–
pieces of driftwood
answering your questions
blown out candles
—–
spring horizon
settling down
the long distance snow
—–
moonlit dusk
the drift of the old oak
in the empty wallet
—–
pieces of driftwood
ebb on the shore
winter sunset
—–
scents from a bubble bath
on the low laying sun
a shadow of stars
—–
spring horizon
a line of cocktails
washing away memories
—–
forgotten memories
meander in the stars
above lay lowing clouds
—–
winter horizon
echoes of your dreams
on distant constellations
—–
scent of vanilla
in the bubble bath soap
spring sunrise
Surfacing – A Poem by Marie MacSweeney
Atoms cool in the roundness of new night.
A searing hiss as suns settle into skies.
Planets sigh and sway into first sleep.
Trees bed down in those dark patches
of warm earth, shiver as waves
coax water upward over sand
and the electric swing of a storm
is left dangling overhead…
After birth tremors subside
is a lull
and we lie curled up
on raw soil,
our new hearts thumping wildly
when we are drawn up,
bone by howling bone,
left standing…
Name That Tune – A Poem by Stan Morrison
Where did I find the song I sing
The song inside all other songs
No one else can ever hear
Or claim it as their own
It’s a song of connections
A melody of loving and playing
The tune is made of dreaming
Dreaming of ancient songs
From the beginning of time
Cursor – A Poem by J.K. Durick
The cursor signals, winks on and off, uses a code
I have yet to master. Sometimes it seems amused,
Pleased with itself over an inside joke I don’t get.
Other times, it becomes a warning, desperate for
My attention, as if the page were a flooded road
Much too dangerous to wade in or drive through,
Sinkholes waiting, hidden, ready to drown me
In paperwork and complex incomplete thoughts,
And sometimes, every once in a while, it greets,
Like an old friend might, or a fan cheering me on
As I finish a full marathon, barefoot in this rain.
The cursor signals out, like a coast watcher in war,
Like a frantic radioman as his Titanic goes down,
Like a traffic light and a really bad intersection,
The corner of my life and all these blank pages.
It winks off and on as if it were counting down
From some set number, a bit out of rhythm,
Like a poorly tuned heartbeat, a pulse beat
To check on and hope for, like an anxious medic
Triaging on a blank battlefield, a reassuring beat
Playing on, restlessly wanting me to respond.
Words – A Poem by J.K. Durick
Words
Too many words
Exist
To exist
Too exist
And I use
Too many
Just
To exist