Stanzaic Stylings

The Memory of Dolphins Remember, I ask, the dolphins or porpoises, their beautiful shadows cavorting in the waves? We felt so lucky to see them then. When, you ask, when was that? It was just a few years ago when we went walking one morning, getting our toes in the lukewarm water. But the memory is gone, a photo that has been destroyed, an event that may as well have never happened. Such is reality, I suppose. ( first appeared at Verse Virtual.) JD DeHart is a writer and teacher.  He blogs at  jddehartpoetry.blogspot.com .

Untimely Goodbye Our journey is ending far too soon We have only just met I'm not ready to say goodbye Not prepared for it to end just yet In my head I had dreams Of building a life together Now it seems that's all changed As quickly as the weather I know it's not your fault And it's not what you would choose We just found this new love One we are nowhere near ready to lose Not sure now just what Our future is going to bring But let me tell you this I want you to know this one thing You came into my life Like a breath of fresh air Picked me up and gave me strength Showed me how someone can truly care I will never forget what it is That you and I share in our hearts The love I have for you will still be real Even when we are miles apart. ©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,...

empty beach . . . within footprints the sunset Bio: Theresa A. Cancro writes poetry, short fiction and nonfiction. Dozens of her poems and short fiction pieces have been published internationally online and in print. She strives to find sparks of wonder in the ordinary.

Supernova Rhythm Does it roll into you, the musical vibe from nowhere inculcating us with sweet sounds until our minds remember her with the first dream of beauty holding forth throughout the breadth of time: walk with me beyond banal wend where old shadows multiply with a thousand shades of darkness swallowing your cat in inky stew for the void to feast on the hunger never satisfied, the autumn wind never gentle enough for us to settle beneath & count blessings of another day to parcel out between us immeasurable smiles of lyrical suns bringing what we really believe in make us hold the wayward day to lips singing down the last sunset. BIO:   Peter Magliocco writes from Las Vegas, Nevada, and occasionally edits the lit-zine ART:MAG. His latest poetry book is   Poems for the Downtrodden Millennium,  from the Medulla Review Publishing.

A Blue-Gray Sky The blue-gray summer sky hints at a bright, sunny day and a heavy rain, like a child laughing and crying one moment to the next, or a friend, who played third base on our  Sunday  softball team, now, a blink of the eye, and he relies on a cane to walk upright. Bio: Wayne Scheer has been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes and a Best of the Net. He's published numerous stories, poems and essays in print and online, including  Revealing Moments ,  https://issuu.com/pearnoir/ docs/revealing_moments   a collection of flash stories. His short story, “Zen and the Art of House Painting” has been made into a short film.  https://vimeo.com/18491827 . 

silk floats on a breeze of summer dresses Ann Christine Tabaka, is better known by Chris. She was born in, and lives in Delaware. She has been writing poems and rhymes since her Junior High years. She always kept a journal of her writing, but only recently was encouraged by friends to publish.  She was an Art Major in college, and retired a scientist. Now she is personal trainer, and more recently a published poet and writer. Besides her memoir, two poetry books, and Haiku book, her poems are published in numerous national, and international Poetry Journals, Reviews, and Anthologies. Her page  on Stanzaic Stylings:  https://stanzaicstylings.blogspot.com/p/ann-christine-tabaka-poetry.html Click Here for information and ordering details on Amazon Click Here for information and ordering on Createspace Ann Christine Tabaka on Amazon

Cleveland Haiku #475 Half-filled, the salt bins sit waiting for winter Bio:  "This is the latest entry in an ongoing project about the place where he lives."

Invitation Would you like to unwind an afternoon at the lake? Solar sparks spilling over us in showers of golden sizzle. Put on short shorts, skimpy tops, stick our toes into oozy mud. Breezes will shake treetops while we listen to birdsongs. Why not float on new grass facing an Alice blue sky? Read celestial comic strips from mounds of clouds. We can count sunbeams, chase yellow butterflies. Devour bowls of cherries painting our lips crimson. This noontime is perfumed with illions of wild flowers. Let’s go away all day...be embraced by the goddess. 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 Lu...

Love Said Hello Stars once aligned  Moonbeams shone bright Hearts felt a flutter On a midsummer night Thoughts were warm Feelings were true Love said hello For love was new Alas, now a memory In the fallen leaves For love flew away On an Autumn breeze Lynn Long is an aspiring writer/novelist

Convent in Primavera Mexico She examines the eyes to make her prognosis, assesses the whole person makes her pronouncement. Todavia esta toxica—everything is toxic.  She bundles three packages,  labels written in her hand,  herbs gathered on hillside and forest. She knows I won't stay here. I know behind adobe doors there  are women who have traveled far from all over Mexico and the Southwest. The convent fills with grace and prayer. She feeds from her garden, prepares herbs gathered in the hill. This wise old abbess  of fire, earth, air, and water  the beginning and ending for so many. Elaine is a poet, herbalist, educator, and member of the Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrators. Her chapbook,  The Heart is a Nursery For Hope ,  published September 2016, recently won first honors from Flutter Press as the top seller of 2016. Most recently Elaine’s poetry has been pu...

Find Me   V2 If one day you look for me  and you can't find me anymore,  look into the poems that I wrote to you, you'll find me there. Close your eyes and feel me, as I left a piece of my soul  in every letter, in every word.  Look for me in a Dandelion  In a rainy day  In a pristine white rose  In a cloudy sky  In our beautiful full moon In a thunderstorm In our favorite song  In a crimson red dress  Find me in your dreams Feel me in your coldest night  I will look for you In a lonely night In the core of my soul   In a golden star In our favorite song In the sound of the rain  In every tear I shed, one by one until there is no more, no more you, no more I, no more us.  I will go quietly without  interrupting your silence If one day you remember me and you can not find me  do not look for me anymore  this time I le...

Close  Although you are so far away from me,  you are close  inside my heart.  The most beautiful  caresses are not  just the ones that  touch the skin, but are also the ones  that touch the soul  without being beside  one another. (Initially published on Raven Cage Ezine) 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.

AT 62: Spectacle Island, Boston Harbor It is time to sit on an island far away enough from your life to look at it. It is time to notice the slender waves of the grass. It is time for your worn shoes on the warm gravel. You shuffle like a vaudevillian. You let the wind slap you affectionately with fragrant  ocean air. You are no longer a second-rate pugilist boxing your way into a corner. And the flies that buzz your pale,  spindly limbs with their blood lust-- you finally understand they do what they must. Doug Holder is the founder of the Ibbetson Street Press.  Holder has been published in a wide variety of journals and newspapers like: the Boston Globe, The Somerville Times, Bay State Banner, Rattle, Cafe Review, Constellations, Boston Literary Magazine. etc.. He has a new poetry collection coming out    Last Night at the Wursthaus  ( Grey Sparrow Press). He teaches at E...

Breakfast with Ted No one goes to the patio now   except at night when Ann goes out to spread old bread  and sunflower seed on the small table for birds  to eat at dawn. The next morning she gets up early and watches the birds from  the breakfast nook where she and Ted would sit and marvel   at the pecking order. First the sparrows arrive  and eat as fast as possible before the cardinals and jays come and take command. Then the starlings land  and raise a ruckus  even when the table is theirs alone. The starlings leave like jets on a mission and  in just a few minutes  two doves drop down. One walks behind the other  and they eat whatever  is left behind. It’s no wonder Ann’s partial to one of the doves.  He reminds her of Ted and lets the other dove  walk ahead and ea...

They hate each other in airports. The hum of jets is like an interloper urging them to argue He's always blowing his nose for one. He says it's the air-conditioning. And she weeps, even when there's no one there to see her off. And the metal detector surely zaps their brains. Can't find their gate. Are they even in the right terminal. And other people waving out the big glass windows. Why is there no one to wave for them? It's all his fault. Her fault. It has to be the eternal time killing. Making sure they're at the airport early so the plane can be delayed. An extra hour of nostril havoc, of uncontrollable tears. They've been wrenched out of routine, of life even, forgotten in this cavernous place by everyone but themselves, and the company is remorseless. What is that pilot staring at? No pretty airline lady, we do not need your pity. And whose idea was it that we should travel? A nose blower, a weeper... where do they have to go? They're...

Friendship   Whenever I call her, she is on the cusp of an interlude.When we are together honesty is her other name.   The world riddled with rift must reign in the sequences of her smile. Grief is her gatekeeper.   When the phone rings, her callers have promises to proffer. Full of fire, she is destiny's flaw.   Some symphonies will never be hers. Still my friend's lilt has the potential to light the lame. Often she disowns this gift.   Her universe seems untidy, but it is unsoiled. Her haphazardness is on display while mine is disguised.   It is things that we disagree upon are the things that draw me to her. Fortitude is this friend's flag. Sanjeev Sethi   is the author of three well-received books of poetry. His most recent collection  is  This Summer and That Summer  (Bloomsbury, 2015). His poems are in venues around the world:  Mad Swirl,   Olentangy Review, ...

Photo by Joanne Olivieri Imagine Imagine to be a bird slicing  air with wings. Up up over that horizon soaring through clouds away from solemn earth. Shining, shimmering  far above this sphere into  clear blue light. Cutting through sky gliding over oceans eyes open all seeing. Awake all day all night brushing rushing against the four winds. Imagine to be a bird. 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. 

Beauty and Love In beauty there is love In love there is true beauty Embrace both within Lynn Long is an aspiring writer/novelist.

some deserve my silence  daughter of the moon and the sun i shine intensely  flames hotter than blue light dancing on the paper mache of  the celestial mouth of night, and a part of me gleaming in each and every star; i guess i am too much for some to handle because no one ever says goodbye they just disappear without farewell— i used to mourn this until i realized that even as intense as i am i cannot help but be the person i am meant to be, and i won't apologize for that anymore; those who seek me will be a part of my tribe or i will disappear like a moon deciding not to show up in the night's sky because i only deserve the people who love me the others don't need my words— i will feed them my silence because it's a greater kindness than allowing them the serrated edge of my flames which would thrust them into oblivion's edge.  BIO: Linda M. Crate is a Pennsylvanian native born in Pitt...