full moon back
after an eclipse
by cloud. . .
such beauty now
years after parting
on its edge
a silver coin spinning. . .
gran mistakes
her youngest son
for her baby brother
 Rodney Williams, Australia
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wandering shadows,
roaming around aimlessly,
without any thoughts,
without any destiny,
just following us.
Priyanka Bhowmick, India
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the lake
freezes over
tonight. . .
remembering you
under this full moon
the North Star
in its usual place
through the drapes
I watch you stir
your coffee
Raquel D. Bailey, Jamaica
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your hands
like autumn wind
that caresses me —
tender one day
rough the next
my beloved
always teases me
with her white beauty
limitless freedom —
blank page
your heart towards me:
the shape of the moon
changing from day to day
in a cycle
that lasts about a month
Chen-ou Liu, Canada
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i can relate
to you
Sylvia Plath
how your jilted heart
still hangs on the elm
the pearl growing
inside my heart
opaque like
endless stars
light years away
will i be remembered
as a poet
a lover or a fool?
wild asters flooding
in autumn rains
Pamela A. Babusci, USA
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your card from Greece
vowing to stay forever —
back home
you tell me about the cold
and your plans for the garden
the cars
backed up for miles —
a traffic cone
inches out of the sunlight
and into the shade
Bob Lucky, China
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the kitchen sink
stacked high with dishes
always waiting
a little pleasure boat
tugging at her anchor
to always be
on top, in charge, controlling. . .
Type-A
is there a 12-step program
to attend before I die?
a heavy key
firmly locks the door
on old habits
my plan is this...to hurl it
into a rushing river
Kirsty Karkow, USA
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dreaming
of love in a world
that reels past
my smile in the photograph
the day of our wedding
_kala, India
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2 below zero
these vacant building's
broken windows
cold pervasive eyes
that look into my past
outside my door
a thousand names
etched in brick
when the night winds stir
I hear a thousand voices
after midnight
freight cars clatter past
on cold steel rails
I ride the train's whistle
back to where I was born
William Sorlien, USA
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our dachshund won't eat.
sixteen hundred clams later,
the vet presents
a shoelace, bits of plastic,
a swatch of towel
Richard Stevenson, Canada
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softly
as a baby's breath
words of love
lost in the bitter wind
around your graveside
a hazy moon
in the midnight sky
drifts silently by. . .
when you leave I wonder
how long our love will last
light
from a long tired day
touches a bowl,
silvers the water
dripping from a tap
Dawn Bruce, Australia
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my father smiled
and with a wave of his hand
said, "See you later."
the snow flakes that fell that day
now ice around his grave
Curtis Dunlap, USA
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directionless
my nights are troubled
with strange dreams
I am following goat tracks
across the sliding debris
Jo McInerney, Austalia
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matching my mood
I drink coffee
in a yellow cup
even rain can't change
this first day of spring
this winter cold —
in all seasons we share
whatever comes;
our journey continues
into spring and beyond
a tree
growing through rocks,
the roots pushing hard;
with a shrug he talks about
how it was in the new land
Adelaide B. Shaw, USA
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I fold
line-dried clothes
smelling of the sea —
comfortable knowing
I won't iron any of them
three wordless days
then at last
the shiver
that has nothing
to do with being cold
Julie Thorndyke, Australia
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brag, my Catullus,
of the sail, long in tatters,
of your little yacht
once seaworthy, indeed, but
lately beached and left to rot
I swept the spare room
but left its vacancy
alone, intact — one
bare light bulb, one
rectangle of black
on the river road
in possession of
a modest dwelling
this retired pair
of weeping willows
Jeffrey Woodward, USA
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i may walk away
from him, from her
from the story - but can't
where is free will?
what is this loneliness?
miriam chaikin, USA
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Fiery sparks
flurry as the log settles —
I tell my friend
it's not too late to return
what she stole.
In his kitchen
to refill my water glass
I notice
vodka bottles propping up
AA brochures.
Snowy egret
glides over the lagoon
toward sea fog —
what can I say to a friend
whose sister has just died?
J. Zimmerman, USA
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bail or jail
her court hearings
come up
so badly we wanted
one more child
August in the capital —
tourists walk around
with maps on their heads
pausing to admire
the fascist architecture
Ruth Holzer, USA
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