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Better at Worst | Ndifreke George

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She wraps herself all in one rough piece
Away from the universe filled with cruel voices
Beautiful demons and charming dark angels
Smiling their deadly fangs
Her heart is plagued
With endless slaps and stabs
Scorched by the sun
Soaked in the rain
But she is safe in her tattered refuge
The gutter is safer than the estates
The dumpster cooks better meals
Her tattered rags fit better than shimmering apparel
Once beaten, twice shy
She is safe in others’ danger
She has nothing to worry about
Let her worries worry over her
She is not schizophrenic
Because she can still remember
That she is one of those widows
Abused, beaten and deprived of her life.

The Game | Chris Byrne

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Life is like a game
Of cards, sometimes
You just have to play the
Hand you’re dealt,
But no one said anything
About breaking the rules.

Fear Is Our Demise | Sarah Ann Waldron

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The quintessence,
of that starry midnight,
lasted longer then the very last second,
therein incarnation of our embodiment.
The epitome of love’s madness,
from life to death, we have craved
the cycle’s tender intermission.
While we spiral out
unto the dark matter,
we find our only struggle is fear,
carrying burdens around,
as if they exist.
We mustn’t let dread prevail.

More at https://www.facebook.com/lifeandsoulofme.

Jackson Bottom Wetlands | Stan Morrison

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Early morning there is a scheduled pause
Save for the crickets and a freight train
Cars don’t break the streetlights’ beams
Waterfowl in the marshes are motionless
Dreaming of their magic predawn routine
Flapping wings and cacophonous songs
Darkening these skies with bursts of flight
Subliminally reminding folks deep asleep
This nearly silent interval is a treasured time

The Pier | Chris Byrne

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Granite glistened as the rain lashed down
Upon it, glinting, flickering in the vague
Sunlight that appeared in the distance
Rocks ever so slimy as we walked
Waves crashing against the shore,
An aroma washed into our senses
Of salt and seaweed refreshing
Our minds as we randomly giggled
And chatted about life while
Trying not to slip, hand in hand
Until finding ourselves back on
The pier, never noticing the rain
Enjoying the emptiness
Of just being together.

The Red Roses | Abigail Ayornu

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As I walked through the garden one bright morning,
I saw beautiful flowers of all kinds:
Eye-catching, glimmering and sparkling as the sun.
I walked towards where it laid.
A rose! a rose! I screamed with all joy.
I loved red roses, especially, their sweet centered and fragrance smell
Like a perfume smeared on the body.
One rose spoke to me,
Telling me all was well.
I jumped and danced all around.
As a springing youth, I hovered all around in circles.
Throwing arms and legs,
Laughing heartily was all I could do.
It was almost dusk,
But was still there.
As I listened the roses sing to me a song.
The melody! the melody of their voices
Like the bees producing honey from the sugary secretion of plants.
Giving me hope of a better day yet to come:
A dazzling brilliance, of course.

Guitar Man | Chris Byrne

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The music was serene in a way,
He ripped the guitar apart
Until his fingers bled
And as the guitar howled
In pain, he heard riffs like never
Before; his fingers were moving
So fast as he was hitting
High notes, he only
Dreamt of years
Ago when he
Got his first
Guitar.

Kindred Spirits | Chris Byrne

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And in a radiant flash
Her face lit up as I walked
Towards her, our shyness
Drifted away,
Smiles beamed across
The distance as we got closer,
A chattering mind
Talking incessantly,
Searching for her
Through time and space until
Our lives once again entwined.

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