Friday, September 29, 2017

Cleveland Haiku by Michael Ceraolo

Cleveland Haiku #458

View from the bridge---
movie theater's neon lights
down in the valley

Cleveland Haiku #461

A busy street---
a squirrel plays chicken,
wins this time

Cleveland Haiku #462

Wealthy suburb---
the park's path goes
underneath the road

Cleveland Haiku #467

Modern pastoral---
cattle unmoved
by the highway noise

Cleveland Haiku #468

Memorial Day---
the RV army
on the move

Bio:  "Michael Ceraolo is a retired firefighter/paramedic and active poet who has had one full-length book (Euclid Creek, from Deep Cleveland Press) and a few chapbooks published (among the chapbooks is Cleveland Haiku, from Green Panda Press). He has a second full-length book, Euclid Creek Book Two, forthcoming from unbound content press, and is continually working on new and existing poetry projects."

Stirring Memories by Blanca Alicia Garza

Stirring Memories

Drinking tears running 
Down my cheeks 
Drowning haunting thoughts 
In my cup of coffee 
Bittersweet memories 
Going round and round 
In my restless mind 
Putting salt in
My still open wounds
Stirring your lies 
Covered in sugar 
Picking the crumbs of 
Unrequited love.

(Initially published on The Poet Community)

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 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.

Monday, September 25, 2017

Loneliness by Gauri Dixit


You leave or I
It is all the same
We are both alone
Fighting loneliness
To make it leave too
Caressing it to make it bloom
Into something that it is not
Closing our eyes and dreaming
That it has filled our voids with yellow wildflowers
Wildflowers are never blue
Any other colour is fine too

Amidst the riot of colours
Walks the ramp
Amidst fellow walkers
It seems to be at ease
Part of the troupe
Swaying on the music
Waving at the showstopper
It halts in its track

You and I 
Have quite a task
To find a new ramp
And some other loneliness
Dreaming wildflowers 
Not blue
Is a tough ask

©. Gauri Dixit

BIO; A software professional from Pune (India), Gauri started writing poems couple of years ago. She writes in few Facebook poetry groups. Her poems have been featured in multiple Indian and international anthologies. She has also contributed to a number of e-zines including Learning & Creativity, Glomag and Mind Creative (published from Sydney, Australia). She loves to read, write and travel.

Sunday, September 24, 2017

Blackbird and The Homeless by Joanne Olivieri

poetry & photo by Joanne Olivieri


He teeters softly
balancing unconscious
upon fog dampened phone lines.
Feathers his garment,
he awakens to windswept mist
and shattered street scenes below.
Emerging from his protective quarters
inside himself, he spreads his wings
and surveys concrete organisms
below his perch where the cumulus
provide a warm, safe haven.
He flutters haphazardly on broken
streets surrounded by industrial obesity
in search of discarded
morsels to satisfy his hunger.
Innocuous in his size he is not noticed and
therefore not seen, though rises above it all
naturally gifted
with wings of freedom.


His cries hidden
sleeping consciously
upon garbage strewn pavement.
Newspapers his blanket,
he awakens to deafening sirens
and the morning rush hour.
Emerging from the daily news
and fetal position he sits
watching oblivious passersby
invade the unseen territory
of which he calls home.
He begs pleading for change on broken
streets surrounded by the guilt ridden elite
in search of discarded scraps to keep him alive.
Big as life he is not acknowledged and
therefore ignored though rises above it all
naturally gifted

with a heart full of hope.

Friday, September 22, 2017

The Owl And The Fly by Joanne Olivieri

The Owl And The Fly

Sunshine glistens
atop the trees and
Wilbur’s barn.

He stands quietly
snoozing away the morning
eyelids closed and feathers groomed.

I come to visit as I always do
soft whispers “good morning baby boy”
and he opens his eyes and turns his head

I never mean to wake him as he sleeps
yet he knows when I am there and greets me
with his tender smile and heart shaped face.

He is my pet, my spirit bird and my family
who gives me such joy
just by being the sweetest owl he can be.

He lights up my days
and brings me a sense of
peace when I look into his eyes.

This morning, he greets me at his barn door
and I can feel his excitement
for the beautiful day.

It is quiet, the familiar bird calls
hush a lullaby
and Wilbur is joyously calm

Then, from nowhere, an incessant buzzing
grips the peaceful air around his barn
and a fly appears in Wilbur’s sight.

Wilbur is frightened by this noise and
retreats, walking backward into
the corner of his barn.

He is afraid,  I know
I can feel his fear
inside my heart.

I try and shoo the fly away
yet the fly would not stop
torturing Wilbur with his maniacal buzzing.

You see an owl’s hearing is acute and inherent
as they catch their prey by using their hearing
in the dead of night.

For my Wilbur, this buzzing
was torture
as he knew not what it was, nor what to do

Though my shooing was not working
I knew I had to try and calm Wilbur
as he was becoming more afraid.

I set my attention solely on Wilbur
and began my human to owl whisper
looking directly into his eyes.

“Wilbur, don’t be afraid
he’s just a little fly that can’t hurt you,
I won’t let him get near you.”

“I won’t let him or anything ever hurt you
You’re my baby boy, I love you
and will always protect you.”

Wilbur then calmed down and
began walking towards the front of his barn
all the while looking right at me.

As he approached outside
the fly finally retreated and flew away
and my baby boy was again calm and happy.

I visited with him a while
then let him get back to snooze part of the day away
 after all he is nocturnal.

This story is true.  I would visit Wilbur every day and had so many wonderful experiences while visiting him.  I decided to bring you this story in the form of a poem to illustrate the connection between humans and the animal world.  There is a definite bond there whether the animal is of a wild or domesticated nature.  Wilbur and I definitely have that bond.  I can read his heart with a connection that is difficult to explain but is there.  Animals are sacred beings upon this earth and should be treated and loved as such.

I created a website for Wilbur at where  you can see literally thousands of photos I took of him over these past few years. Enjoy!

Thank you.

Friday, September 15, 2017

The Buddha Speaks by Gu Cheng

Photo of Tian Tan Buddha taken by Joanne Olivieri in Hong Kong 2008

The Buddha Speaks

I am poor
I have no place to weep

my occupation s fixed
fixedly I sit
a thousand years
come wearing the richest of smiles
go subtly extending a hand
as if having given something to humanity

I don't know what I can give
and don't hope to gain
I just want to keep my tears
keep them till my work is done

deep green sandalwood turns to ash
parched red stars
are falling

by Gu Cheng (1956 - 1993)

Gu Cheng (simplified Chinese顾城traditional Chinese顧城; September 24, 1956 – October 8, 1993) was a famous Chinese modern poet, essayist and novelist. He was a prominent member of the "Misty Poets", a group of Chinese modernist poets.

Sunset Over Victoria Harbor In Hong Kong by Joanne Olivieri

Photo taken by Joanne Olivieri Victoria Harbour Hong Kong 2008

Sunset Over Victoria Harbor In Hong Kong

And the sun retreats
high aglow orange canvas
where I’ve seen this same glow
half a world away
on a different horizon.

And the daylight verbiage
quelled by deafening quiet
whispers secrets
to passerby clouds
never remembered.

And the harbour bids
“farewell Sun Goddess”
drowning in darkness
gently awaiting
a symphony of lights.

Until we meet again…


Thursday, September 14, 2017

Free of the Shadows by Blanca Alicia Garza

Free of the Shadows 

Caress my skin with
the softness of the
feather of a Raven...
make love to my inner 
demons, let them know 
you've come to stay,
that you aren't afraid
of the storm and darkness 
inside my heart.
Teach me to believe again 
to give my heart without fear, 
take my hand and set 
me free of the shadows,
stay here with me...
always and forever.

(Initially published on Indiana Voice Journal)

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 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.

Do You Know Me? by Michael Ceraolo

Do You Know Me?

A century later that question was the tagline
for a credit-card company's commercial
touting the advantages of their card
to stamp one with the mark of distinction

I did not have such a card,
but I was the unanimous choice
of the seventeen Union state governors
to speak that day at Gettysburg
 Newspaper coverage of the ceremony
talked more of my speech than the other one
I spoke for two hours, as was the custom
for political oratory at the time

Yet I did less in speaking for two hours
that he did in speaking for two minutes,
and demonstrated at least one instance
where two hundred seventy-two is greater than thirteen thousand

You can judge history's verdict for yourself:
my speech is widely available online
Do you know me?
My name is Edward Everett

Bio:  "Michael Ceraolo is a retired firefighter/paramedic and active poet who has had one full-length book (Euclid Creek, from Deep Cleveland Press) and a few chapbooks published (among the chapbooks is Cleveland Haiku, from Green Panda Press). He has a second full-length book, Euclid Creek Book Two, forthcoming from unbound content press, and is continually working on new and existing poetry projects."

In the Lily Pond by Lynn Long

In the Lily Pond

In the lily pond
A water nymph sings softly
Nature hums along

Lynn Long is an aspiring writer/novelist

Monday, September 11, 2017

Waiting For Her by Angelica Grace Lee

Waiting For Her

Shadows underneath his eyes
Hours feeling like centuries
Empty hearted, empty handed,
With only false hope to hold onto
Waiting for her

He wants to right his wrongs
Has nights full of tears and regrets
He is the man who can’t be moved
Forever sitting on that rough pavement
Waiting for her

He will pull through every storm
Listening for the clicks of her little red rain boots
Her hair tied up with a little red bow
To tell her he was sorry
For everything she had lost because of him

Passerbyers, friends, family members
They can’t mend his broken soul
He only wants to breathe life again
With you by his side
You’re the only one who can make him feel whole again

Save him, please save him
He’ll make it up to you if you give him a chance
He’s so sorry he had to leave you so young
He’ll make it up to you, he’ll wait for you
No matter how long it takes

Bio: My name is Angelica Grace Lee and I am a senior at Lowell High School. I am passionate about giving back to my community and would like to major in cognitive science, psychology, or legal studies in college. Currently I am a San Francisco Police Activities League Senior Cadet Sergeant as well as an intern for SFPD's CSI Unit. In my spare time I run a Facebook group called "Kindness in the Darkness" where I share heartwarming acts of kindness in hopes of brightening the days of those who may be suffering dark times. I have been the creator and administrator of “Kindness in the Darkness” since 2011. I also enjoy writing poetry and composing song lyrics. 

Thursday, September 7, 2017

1875 by Grant Guy


Riding across the invisible line 
That divided Alberta from Montana
She sat high in the saddle 
She looked out upon the spreading world in front of her

The view was fine. 

She knew the world could not remain the way it was. 
High in the saddle she was changing the world. 
Every other woman who had and 
Were going to ride high in the saddle
Or broke the earth with an oxen pulled plow 
Would change the world.You 

Fom the front jack of the collection of short stores The Naked City by Sterling Silliphant - where a crime of violence and an act of infinite tenderness can occur seconds apart . . .

In many respects that is what I am attempting to do with my poems and stories. I am interested in our individual humanity in a harsh and sometimes comical environ.

Bio: Grant Guy is a Winnipeg, Canada, poet, writer and playwright. He was the artistic director of Adhere + Deny for 16 years. His poems and writings have been published in Canada, the United States and England. He has three books published; Open Fragments, On the Bright Side of Down and Bus Stop Bus Stop. He was the 2004 recipient of the Manitoba Arts Council's 2004 Award of Distinction and the 2017 recipient of the Winnipeg Arts Council's Making A Difference Award.

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Imbalance of Time by Neil Ellman

Symphony No. 1, The Transcendental by Richard Pousette-Dart

Imbalance of Time

(after the painting by Richard Pousette-Dart)

On the other side of what we know
an hour is no more an hour
than east is truly east
or light the feel of snow.

To travel from here to there
is a matter of perspective, faith,
not time, a journey imagined,
neither short nor long,
the contents of the sea
in a measuring cup.

The present feeds the past
like a mothering lion
feeds her young
and the past is nothing more
than the future in its mouth.

There is neither proportion
nor equivalence
nor harmony
when time, uncertain,
out of balance
is barely now.

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)

Monday, September 4, 2017

Sin Takes a Bow by Paula Hackett

Sin Takes a Bow 

Make Believe
made up Sin,
and Sin took it from there. 
Entered our lives with a racket. 
Created a racket,
the life and death racket.
Took our five senses for a ride. 
Made yes and no common events. 
Made loving you a shadow.
Sin is at home in all of us,
and Sin will take our breath away.

Listen to Sin Takes a Bow by Paula Hackett on SoundCloud

BIO: Paula Hackett's poetry is influenced by her life experiences growing up in Berkeley during the vibrant and explosive 60's. The daughter of novelist Paul Hackett, she studied under John Beecher, Angela Davis and Grover Sales. She has written lyrics in collaboration with her brother John Hackett, for many great jazz composers including Teddy Edwards, John Handy, Ivan Lins, Joe Sample, Eddie 'Cleanhead' Vinson, and Cedar Walton. Her life long love of jazz is reflected in her many poems about musicians and in her CDs with pianists Rudi Wongozi and Connie Crothers.

Paula Hackett Website

Labor Day by Alyssa Trivett

Labor Day
Thoughts flick neurons
and goldenrod colored mirages
prance on shadows from windows.
Time only floats,
ascends up creaky stairs
during this quiet morning
taking up the air.

Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working two jobs, she listens to music and scrawls lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work has recently appeared on, at In Between Hangovers, Punch Drunk Press, and Carcinogenic Poetry. She has fifteen poems in an anthology entitled Ambrosia, a collaboration with eight other poets, soon to be released by OWS Ink, LLC. All proceeds from the anthology will be donated to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. More information can be seen here. 

Sunflowers by Eliza Segiet


In the head was born a garden,
which still awaits for the smell.
What a beautiful one,
flowered in a harmony of colours.
Behind the enchanted gate,
open to sensation
two drooping heads
of ripe sunflowers.
Bowing down likely
to love drifting in the distance.
The wind
shut the enchanted gates,
feeling insufficient.
It knew
that the garden can be made up,
and love
has to be felt.


W głowie urodził się ogród,
ale jeszcze czeka na zapach.
Jakiż on piękny,
ukwiecony harmonią kolorów.
Za zaczarowaną furtką,
otwartą na doznania
dwie chylące się głowy
dojrzałych słoneczników.
Chyba już kłaniały się
snującej z oddali miłości.
przymknął zaczarowane wrota,
czuł niedosyt.
że ogród można wymyślić,
a miłość
trzeba poczuć.

Translated by Artur Komoter

Eliza Segiet – Jagiellonian University graduate with a Master’s Degree in Philosophy. Completed postgraduate studies in Cultural Knowledge, Philosophy, Penal Fiscal and Economic Law, and Creative Writing at Jagiellonian University, as well as Film and Television Production in Łódź.


poetry collections:
2013 Love Affair with Oneself; original title: Romans z sobą [publisher: Sowello]

2014 Thought Mirages; original title: Myślne miraże [publisher: Miniatura]

2016 Cloudiness; original title: Chmurność [publisher: Signo]


2015 Clearances; original title: Prześwity [publisher: Signo]

2017 Tandem original title: Tandem [publisher: Signo]

2017 Thought Mirages; original title: Myślne miraże [publisher: Sowello], second edition