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Showing posts from May, 2017

Ballad of the Fish by JD DeHart

Ballad of the Fish 
he swam upstream slapping his body against fate
they called him Sammy
soon he wondered what dry land felt like and put on some sandals
flash forward
Sammy is married and has two children (modest amount for a fish)
he hides his gills in public but they all know there’s something about him – you could say something fishy, but that would be too obvious
Rita, his wife, especially suspects his secret every time they go the river
or to the ocean or to the sink
she lives in fear that what she suspects is true and then also lives in fear that Sammy will discover her secret
she is a sharp-beaked predator at war with herself.

JD DeHart is a writer and teacher.  His writing has recently appeared at Cacti Fur and Oddball Magazine.

Memorial Day Moment By Desiree Cady

Memorial Day Moment By Desiree Cady
They stand and fight Put their lives on the line Give up everything they have Just to make sure our citizens are fine
March into battle bravely Their strength pulls them through They lose their lives To protect me and you
Some come home from battle Beaten and torn Scarred from their memories Their hearts are all worn
They deserve our respect And yet so much more They are the soldiers, our heroes, The prisoners of war.
©2017 Desiree Cady All Rights Reserved
Happy Memorial Day  And thank you to the many men and women who have fought, continue to fight, and will fight in the future to protect our America. Words cannot express my love and Gratitude

Bio I am a 33 year old mother of two beautiful girls who have been my saving grace. After a brutal attack a few years ago, I have been plagued by PTSD. After the attack and a few suicide attempts, I vowed to tell my story and help inspire others to get help and to know that they are not alone.  I am currently wrapping up two manusc…

Casey at the Bat (Villanelle) by Michael Ceraolo

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Casey at the Bat (Villanelle)
Would he hit the circuit clout we would need to win the game? Surely Casey wouldn't strike out;
Casey knew what he was about. One didn't get many chances for fame. He would hit the circuit clout
should the occasion to arise. No weak grounders, no pop flies, and no chance he'd strike out.
Two made outs, two got on base, and the look on Casey's face said he'd hit the circuit clout
to win the Mudville nine the game and garner for himself the fame; inconceivable he'd strike out.
He took two called strikes by the ump, and on the third he busted a hump. Today there is no circuit clout. Our mighty Casey has struck out.

Bio:  "Michael Ceraolo is a 59-year-old retired firefighter/paramedic and active poet and baseball fan. This poem is from a current project inspired by recently re-reading Casey at the Bat."

New Love Wonder by Desiree Cady

New Love Wonder

As the dawn of the day Seeps through the blinds I awake next to you With happiness in mind
Not sure yet of what Our future will hold In my heart I hope next to you I will be growing old
Our feelings are new Though We have just met I feel you understand me  Better than anyone yet
I am scared of you You scared of me So afraid to fall and get hurt If only the future we could see
Take a chance on me And hand me your heart I promise to cherish, love, and protect Each and every last part.

©2017 Desiree Cady All Rights Reserved

Bio I am a 33 year old mother of two beautiful girls who have been my saving grace. After a brutal attack a few years ago, I have been plagued by PTSD. After the attack and a few suicide attempts, I vowed to tell my story and help inspire others to get help and to know that they are not alone.  I am currently wrapping up two manuscripts for publication and am set to be published in an upcoming anthology that will come out mid - November. You can find more of my work at
Www.Face…

A Sign Is Just A Start by Joseph Powell

A Sign Is Just A Start

I see your sign--
Yes,
I see you,
marching on tired feet,
filling the streets,
raising your voices,
singing,
shouting;
yes,
I see you;
we all
see you.
But,
at the end of the day,
when the sun has gone down
and the singing stops;
and the tired feet
have marched
all the way home;
and the signs are put away
in garages
and closets
filled to overflowing--
what then?

I ask,
what is
your takeaway?
what is
my takeaway?
Mothers
are still losing sons;
sons
are still losing fathers;
women
are still going missing;
men
are still going to prison.
Laws
are being broken,
by those
who make them
and swore
to uphold them;
the rich
still do not care
about the poor;
the poor
still see no relief.

Yes,
a sign is just a start,
but
I know teachers
who are having to take
second and third jobs
just to make ends meet;
I see roads and bridges
crumbling all around us
and we’re talking about
paying for a wall
that may or may not
protect us.

A sign is just a start,
but I have friends
who are getting sicker
because we still
are arguing about healthcare.

And wh…

You By Desiree Cady

You

You are the air that I breathe The fire in my soul You are what makes my life complete  You are what makes me whole.
You are the stars in the sky The dawn's early light You're the one biggest reason  to continue the fight. 
You are what God had in mind  when he created the mold Of His one perfect Angel  everything to treasure, cherish and hold.
You're the warm summer breeze  or cool winter night, You are the sun in the sky Shining your eternal light.
You are my daughters  pulled straight from my womb You were brought to this earth -- beautiful perfection to rid my world of gloom.
Mommy loves you Cadylynn and Jasmine to the moon and back and around the universe a few more million times.
©2016 Desiree Cady All Rights Reserved

Bio I am a 33 year old mother of two beautiful girls who have been my saving grace. After a brutal attack a few years ago, I have been plagued by PTSD. After the attack and a few suicide attempts, I vowed to tell my story and help inspire others to get help and to know th…

Moon Meditation by Neil Ellman

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Moon Meditation by Richard Pousette-Dart

Moon Meditation
(after the painting by Richard Pousette-Dart)

Walking on the moon in the breathlessness of dust no wind, the cold cutting like diamond blades of ice through stone and skin the first perhaps the last I walk in the shadow of the gods who came before.   At the Sea of Tranquility I am alone with no one to guide me but the stars and no one to believe in but myself.

Neil Ellman is a poet from New Jersey.  He has published numerous poems, more than 1,000 of which are ekphrastic and written in response to works of modern art, in print and online journals, anthologies and chapbooks throughout the world.  He has been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize and twice for Best of the Net.
Editors Note: This is an ekphrastic poem and based on a work of modern art. The title of this poem is that of the original image (after the painting by Richard Pousette-Dart)

Dandelion in a Vase of Roses

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Have you purchased your copy of Dandelion in a Vase of Roses yet? You requested info when the poetry anthology was available. Thank U. If you get a copy, do not forget to leave a "Like" on CreateSpace and a reader review on Amazon.com.


Editor-in-Chief Michael Lee Johnson/Co-Editor Ken Allan Dronsfield. Facebook poetry group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/807679459328998/ now over 12,930 members.



https://www.createspace.com/7090612 504 "Likes" on CreateSpace
http://www.amazon.com/dp/1545352089 11 reader reviews all 5 stars
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1545352089 2 reader reviews all 5 stars
Dandelion in a Vase of Roses, poetry anthology is breaking at the seams, 98 poets, 326 pages, representing 37 different countries and republics from all over the world. It is large 8 ½" x 11" large font size 14 for easy reading, poet photos and many illustrative pictures. It is a loaded anthology combining the best in professional contemporary poets of this d…

Cleveland Haiku #452 by Michael Ceraolo

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Cleveland Haiku #452
Storm coming--- wind-whipped whitecaps beneath dark clouds

Bio:  "Michael Ceraolo is a 59-year-old retired firefighter/paramedic and active poet with a long list of credits he won't bore you with now, though he can't guarantee he won't do so in the future. After competing recently in a haiku contest, he was inspired to start writing haiku again after more than a decade of not writing any."

Haiku by Lynn Long

Silver droplets fall
As dusk meets twilight in kiss And I await night

Lynn Long is an aspiring writer/novelist.

Frankie Boy by John Grey

FRANKIE BOY
He tethered his pit-bull to the last fencepost standing.
He slept in an old truck on blocks.
Scars struggled with tattoos for control of his surfaces.
The stream behind the old mill was his personal washtub. His old man died drunk and in debt.
His mother was a memory of bright red lipstick forever missing the target of her lips.
He took odd jobs where he could. And panhandled. And dealt. And used his fists
when convincing otherwise was required.
He had a brother who either died in the Gulf War
or was serving time in state prison. depending on who you asked.
He tried to enlist but was turned down. He drove an old Chevy with an exhaust like a farting Goliath.
Parents warned their children about him. He played two roles in the lives of those kids  -
what could harm them, what they could become.
The cops were always stopping him to give him a hard time.
They were too late. He already had one.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Sheepshead Review, Studio One and Colu…

In Flight by Joan McNerney

In Flight
A tree waves wooing birds who fly from branch to branch looking for a home.
Congregations of wrens winging off to choral practice stop at bird feeders first.
An outdoor concert.
Which is sweeter, the flute
or bird song in woods?
Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze, Blueline, and Halcyon Days.  Three Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Kind of A Hurricane Press Publications have accepted her work.  Her latest title is Having Lunch with the Sky and she has four Best of the Net nominations. 

A Portrait of Self by Joseph Powell

A Portrait of Self I am sound and fury, signifying everything; strurm und drang, wrapped in black skin; I am what a sinner looks like, broken by grace; the son, my father never had; the apotheosis of blues incarnate and undiluted jazz. I am the love-infused truth of Baldwin; I am, Nina Simone in a man’s body; you read my words because you can handle the truth. I am the city of broad shoulders, and all its Bronzeville residents, distilled to represent light and shadow, beauty and pain; my name is verisimilitude; my name is on the lips, unspoken by the one who preached the Sermon on the Mount. I am not what you think I am, but I am,

Morning Rhyme by Nereida Tenderfoot Galvin

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Starved Soul by Blanca Alicia Garza

Starved Soul
Take my skin and use it as an empty canvas;  write beautiful poetry  upon my starved soul.  Keep my spirit wrapped  safely in your golden light; your love is like a raging  river within my heart.
(First published in "Apple Fruits of an Old Oak" Anthology)
Bio: Blanca Alicia Garza is a Poet from Las Vegas, Nevada. She is a nature and animal lover, and enjoys spending time writing. Her poems are published in the Poetry Anthologies, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze", and "Dandelions in a Vase of Roses" now available at Amazon.com. Blanca's work can be found in  The Poet Community, Whispers, The Winamop Journal, Indiana Voice Journal, Tuck Magazine, Raven's Cage Ezine, Scarlet Leaf Review as well as Birdsong Anthology 2016, Vol 1.

Haiku by Ann Christine Tabaka

A rainy spring day World reflected in a puddle Ripples grow outward

Ann Christine Tabaka was born and lives in Delaware.  She is a published poet, an artist, a chemist, and a personal trainer.  She loves gardening, the ocean, and her cats.  Her poems have been published in poetry journals, reviews, and anthologies.

The Jurist by William C Blome

THE JURIST
The greenish roses that loop about a silver rain spout in the rear of a Topeka railroad station that no longer services Kansas City or Wichita have been termed “darlings” by people quite a bit more muscular and brainier than me. These roses bi-annually grow rapidly, but I annually refuse to fall for the omnipresent bromide about how the promise of vivid color occurs lots of places in Mama Nature’s realm and always overtakes the optics of her dullish green, though I’m really not the jurist you’d want to be in front of were the growth and color of roses a life-and-death issue of your days here, or some predictor of your chances to go wild-west, lasso, and then hold onto a fortune. No, for that, you’d want someone along the lines of Adlai Stevenson, Mikhail Sholokhov, or Billie Holiday, and you’d hope like hell Katherine Mansfield and/or Edgar Degas had earlier been coaxed to be on standby, or, better yet, was actually waiting in the wings.

William C. Blome writes poetry and short fiction. He lives…

Free by Desiree Cady

Free
I remember you once told me That I could not survive without you Well sit back and prepare for the amazing things  that I am about to do
For years I thought​ that it was you That held me tightly together But now I look back and I see It was me who was withstanding the harshest weather
When you left I was so lost I was just so damned scared But looking back I see now I was the only one that cared
I had so much love in my heart Devoted to what I thought we were That I would've never found the strength to leave So I am thankful that you did it first
I am finally free to be the woman That I once used to be I am finally free to smile again To find the beautiful side of me.
©2017 Desiree Cady

Bio I am a 33 year old mother of two beautiful girls who have been my saving grace. After a brutal attack a few years ago, I have been plagued by PTSD. After the attack and a few suicide attempts, I vowed to tell my story and help inspire others to get help and to know that they are not alone.  I am currently wrappin…

Cold Whispers By Desiree Cady

Cold Whispers
His words, they were nothing  but cold whispers in the middle of the night Caught up in the moment But oh they felt so right
I try to tell myself that with time  Some people's feelings change But mine never did And that's what I find so strange
His words they cut me deep Right to the very core Such cold and evil hatred He'd never expressed before
So now I am wondering That passion that I felt Was it always truly one sided Was that the hand that I was dealt?
Though every lie he told me His words made my heart melt His lying cold whispers they've left My heart an empty welt.


Bio I am a 33 year old mother of two beautiful girls who have been my saving grace. After a brutal attack a few years ago, I have been plagued by PTSD. After the attack and a few suicide attempts, I vowed to tell my story and help inspire others to get help and to know that they are not alone.  I am currently wrapping up two manuscripts for publication and am set to be published in an upcoming anthology that …

Pieces of Me by, Melissa R. Mendelson

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Pieces of Me


White pages whisper in the wind,

hovering low to the ground

as I drag my feet,

uncertain of where I’m going.

Silence holds my mind

as my eyes fall on darkness,

afraid to face the dreams

that beg to be lived

not buried within.

Alone I stand,

surrounded by the pages

that yet have to be written.

The question burns

in a heart left cold

buried under vines of my soul

if time will continue to walk ahead

without a look back on the footprints

fading quickly behind me?

Will I become a ghost here,

another blank face in the crowd,

or will I find the courage

to take the pen,

write the pages

that whisper in the wind?


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