Every Day Poems
The End of Summer by Andy N. Soon Autumn will be here with it’s dusty and driving breeze across fields from the back of your house where poppies would previously dance with you now spit in your face. Autumn will hold your hand when you run to the train station every morning jagged with purpose…
Nostalgic Summer Days by Ute Carson A cluster of dark trees blurring into a green knoll, emerald sheen on velveteen moss, sprays of daisies across the grass bees greedily drinking from succulent centers, quick-stepping deer flitting by, fallen feathers of magpies. Naked feet dangle in a silvery brook that licks our soles with its babbling…
The Preserver by Dawn Cunningham Luebke Salamonie Reservoir :hundreds of yards of shimmering leaves bubble trails in my eye. Dead trees thumb a ride, left behind after man flooded the land. I slow down for the red light. There’s a ripple in the drowning: a boat moves like an upside-down swing; fishes. The old church…
From The Train Going Home by Donal Mahoney As we roar over and by the oaks are as still as the pond they surround Only the swans on the pond are moving Then from an oak a buckshot of crow cawing and leaving ### Donal Mahoney, a native of Chicago, lives in St. Louis, Missouri….
Vacation by William Aarnes Mouse droppings along the kitchen counter the morning you’re leaving your house vacant for a month. A flight to catch so nothing to do but wipe the counter and forget the chore you’ll find waiting the night your return. ### William Aarnes teaches English at Furman. He has two collections of…
addio! by Denis Joe Farewell: the rain trickles like candlewax when the flame is snuffed out by that last gasp of air and the world is static and hearts cease their music. You were a poem: a ballad; a sonnet. Now an elegy. ### Denis Joe writes a blog about poetry Talking Verse, and he…
Darque Doll By, Crystal Lane Swift Cradling her wounds she thought back Pressed to the ground He had stolen her perfection Once bright white porcelain and pure She was now broken and scarred She did the only thing she could think to do Though soaked in her own blood She threaded her needle with…
Yin & Yang by Jennifer-Crystal Johnson We’re a myriad of thoughts In a kaleidoscope of dreams And everything seems real But nothing’s what it seems The evil that we do Is for the good of all we know And when there’s no evil left Then there’s nowhere left to go (Napkin Poetry, Broken Publications, 2010)…
A Letter along the Way by Xiwen Mai Dearest, tell me where the cicadas have gone. Didn’t summer only exist in the past? For I see myself sitting at the window years ago, in the wild songs of cicadas about how they had waited life long to find the summer unbearable, Nanjing’s summer hot as…