Prognosticator | Cattail Jester
Through dim
swirl
of half-formed
dream
I was a vision
I saw a vision
of tomorrow’s
promise
of what I
would be
it was unexpected
may change
open to resistance
yet possible.
self-reflection poems
All That I Am Left With… | Ananya S. Guha
Lines across
penumbra in sight
the lilies grow
washed by the moon
glowing light
array of lines
dog sitting, all in glow
towards the river I tow.
I tow relentlessly
till the pictures fade
All that I am left with
is the grass and hangover
dreams.
Smoking Caterpillar | Tara Lynn Hawk
I continue to suffer
from the lack of an all-seeing,
all-knowing oracle
Satisfying purpose continues
it’s long vacation away from me
I have experienced much
yet still I feel so innocent,
Well… most of the time
The I unwillingly wake up,
and admit sheepishly that I know better
I am on the downside
of my existence here
My theology of slightly superstitious atheism
offers to me little relief
“Live for the day” they say,
“Live for the moment”
As the mail elves bring forth
my auto insurance bill.
More at https://www.taralynnhawk.com.
—–
Tara Lynn Hawk is a San Francisco based poet and historian. Her work has previously been on “The Poet Community” as well as “Spelk” and “Spilling Cocoa.” She’s on Twitter at @taralynnhawk.
Awaiting Dawn | Joanne Olivieri
Where stars
bow their heads
in slumber
I drift off
contemplating
morning’s birth.
Fog creeps
around me
above and beyond me
saturating my emotions
with a dull lullaby.
Darkness
whisks me away
into oblivion
the doldrums
of sleep.
My legs
my arms
my heart
restless as
a caged animal
the creative flow
hushed a goodnight.
Nocturnal scenarios
imbue my brain stems
dreaming fantasies
once lived
now revisited.
Apparitions
reincarnated
and sleep
is of the essence.
The crooning
Ms. Hummingbird
spews melancholy superlatives
waking the dead
back to life.
I rise
contented yet daring.
A walk on the wild side
is in order.
The Summer | Mónika Tóth
Summer
Now it’s the summer,
everything is dry
Love me
Now it’s the summer,
everything is dry
Please don’t leave me
Now it’s the summer,
everything is dry
Why I am alone
Weightless | Daipayan Nair
I have just
trimmed my face
weightless.
I wouldn’t say,
the face is now free
for an expression.
It no longer
expresses
along with a weight.
There are
earthquakes
carrying one
forever.
More at http://daipayannair.wordpress.com.