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The Black Rose~ By Houda Kefi

8/12/2015

In the deep ocean of darkness
Hides a rare beacon of light
Covered by the sorrows of a bleeding heart
The endless echoes of the night
Drowned by the invincible shadows of the past
Leading the path astray...
Wandering with no place for the bosom to lay.

Come, come now dear beating soul
sticks and stones shall not break your bones
From the burnt ashes, rises a precious rose
Never with such enchanted bloom
haunted by mysterious gloom
Delicate, yet a force of doom
Behold! The shadows on the ground where they loom

... Coming undone
Run, sweet darkness, run.

Author Bio:
As an aspiring researcher and a devoted reader, Houda Kefi seeks fulfillment through writing poetry that dwells within her. After publishing several scholarly articles, she seeks to share her reflections with the rest of world. Born in Tunisia, Houda holds at MA in Cross-Cultural Poetics from the Higher Institute of Languages of Tunis. She is currently perusing her Ph.D. in English Literature.

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Tangerine~ By Christy Anna Jones

8/11/2015

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Stop.
Dry your eyes
go sit on the porch
in your favorite rocking chair
the one that reminds you of
tangerines and peach ice cream
of Nina Simone and mandolins
of her.

Drink in your sorrow from a paper cup
and watch as the sinking sun
slips away into an infinite pool
of cloud and sky.
Streaks of orange and red as rich as the
over-ripe peaches you would pick
with her
for ice cream.

Look into your cup
see the deep orange swirl of the sorrow you drink.
Notice the taste on your tongue
sweet like a juicy tangerine.
Feel the evening breeze against the fine hair on
your bare arms and
on your sun-kissed shoulders.
Breathe in
and then let it go.

See the breeze blow specks of orange and gold
like tangerine dust
into the world around you.
Look into your cup of sorrow,
once full, now empty.
The air smells sweet
like Tupelo honey and sunshine
like mandolins and peach ice cream
like tangerines.

Does she still remember times like these?

Author Bio:
Christy Anna Jones, a writer and poet, holds a BA in Psychology from the University of Georgia. Sober for four years, Christy is currently addicted to Belvita cookies, Amazon Prime, and The Game of Thrones. Writing, running, and music all help keep her (semi-) sane. An avid poet in her youth, Christy again turned to poetry to help her process her grief after losing her mom, aunt, and beloved dog all to cancer. Christy’s work has appeared in a variety of publications, including: Halcyon Magazine, Emerge Literary Journal, and Melancholy Hyperbole. Christy lives in Texas with her husband, cat, two dogs, two donkeys and twelve cows, but Georgia will always be on her mind. Visit Christy at ChristyAnnaJones.com.

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Assaulted From Above~ By Scott Thomas Outlar

8/10/2015

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Every drop of rain
is an acid bullet
shot from the heavens
like a released bomb
to assault this depleted earth

Every lazy eye
is too bothered
to look upward
and see the bad effects
for what they truly are and from whence they came

Every last resort
has been extinguished
and the umbrellas
are all burnt in the storm
so nothing is left to try and save

Every false plea
is like a starving angel
dancing on a pin
until the stab wound
makes the matter moot and wastes away

Author Bio:
Scott Thomas Outlar spends the days flowing and fluxing with the tide of the Tao River while laughing at life's existential nature. His words have appeared in various magazines, journals and websites. His debut chapbook "A Black Wave Cometh" is forthcoming from Dink Press in 2015. More of Scott's work can be found at 17numa.wordpress.com.

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Pronouns~ By Kirsten Ellicson

8/6/2015

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Conjugation at your fingertips
Fear at switching pronouns
I became she
She and I
In telling the story
it was the ultimate choice
but when you decided on one
it was impossible to
eliminate every last trace
of the other

Author Bio:
Kirsten Ellicson grew up in rural Richmond, Massachusetts in the Berkshires. A French literature specialist, she has taught university courses in the humanities including French language and literature, major works of Western literature, academic writing, film studies and English as a foreign language. Currently living in Paris, she works as a writer and translator. She is the author of a collection of poetry, "Light in the Dark Pool" (December 2014, available on Amazon), which reflects her conception of poetry as an exploration of the boundaries between self and other. In her free time, she has contributed to Global March Against Child Labor and WorldPulse as a volunteer translator. She enjoys spending time in nature and with her family, and engaging in intense conversations.

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There I Went, Afar Off… ~By Carol Louise Moon

8/5/2015

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with shiny leather shoes whose soles
     run up the back of my toddler heels

ankles bound in fine knit and lace
legs skipping
frilly skirt bouncing and waving

     as an old woman would wave a hanky
     to her suitor who chooses to ignore her
     as she sallies up to his gray face.

The face of a tired, old, impotent man
in no mood for suiting or dating or dancing,
sitting as he is on rattan

     glass of whiskey
    in his tobacco-stained fingers,
     his patent-leather shoes impatiently tapping.

The fedora, off his stern head, rests
on a tiny wooden tea table.
“Who,” he asks, “is this little snot nose?”

     It was explained to me later
     in the camellia afternoon
     that he didn’t much like Grandma, either.

Author Bio:
Carol Louise Moon began composing poetry on vacation to Mt. Shasta following a serious illness. This time of rest and reflection provided the space to create the kind of poems which became Carol Louise’s passion. She believes this kind of renewal doesn’t happen in a vacuum, but my divine inspiration and the encourage-
ment of family and friends. Upon joining a workshop, under the tutelage of two fine poets, Carol Louise was soon being published in local poetry journals and began sharing her poems in open mic and featured reader settings. Today, Carol Louise spends much of her spare time editing, publishing and promoting other
poets from her small city studio in California.

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Kissing the Gym~ By Sally Wahl Constain

8/4/2015

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Here I am
many decades later
Trying to exorcise...I mean exercise
away
the accumulated pounds of flesh
at the gym...I mean the sports club,
which once
was a movie theater
with a balcony
where you kissed me
softly, tenderly
thrilling me
filling me
with hope
for what was not to be.

That was long ago,
and yet,
as I sweat,
that kiss emerges from the hidden rafters
as if it has been waiting since then
to take me back
to bring me back
and break my heart
again.

Author Bio:
Sally Wahl Constain is a lifelong reader and writer. She taught elementary school in Astoria, NY for more than 30 years, and shared wonderful literature with her students. She was also teacher of Library for many years. She was a reviewer for the Horn Book Guide for several years. In retirement, Sally continues to be an avid reader and writer and participates actively in book clubs and writers meetings. She is the proud author of her debut novel, The Keys to Fanny, a work of historical fiction. Sally is now working on a sequel, to this well appreciated book. She also continues to write poems when moved by emotions and events.

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Marble Overhead~ By Aubrey Lloyd

8/3/2015

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A marble flew overhead,
Blasting fragments of stone and limb,
Smoke and dust blackened the air,
Running and screaming,
Stomping ensued,
The rouge toll consumed every good.

Author Bio:
Author Bio: Aubrey is a poet and freelance writer residing in Florida. She has published her work in various online magazines. You can follow her on twitter @AubreyKLloyd.

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Forward>>

The Black Rose~ By Houda Kefi

Tangerine~ By Christy Anna Jones

Assaulted From Above~ By Scott Thomas Outlar

Pronouns~ By Kirsten Ellicson

There I Went, Afar Off… ~By Carol Louise Moon

Kissing the Gym~ By Sally Wahl Constain

Marble Overhead~ By Aubrey Lloyd

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