Cheapen The Wait

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Contributor: Ken Allan Dronsfield

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Death moves along
with a fiendish gait;
as destiny stalks all
whilst planning your fate.
Time draws near
for the scythe to appear;
Hear the wailing yowl
while trembling with fear.
Absolve your loss through
a blackened shadowed cross.
You cherish all the hate;
then cheapen the wait;
adrift within delusional lies
and distorted pious faith.
The Reaper awaits his prize
just beyond your frantic cries.

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Ken Allan Dronsfield is a Published Poet from New Hampshire. He enjoys writing from the dark side. His published work can be found at numerous print venues.

As The Wind Shifts

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Contributor: Richard Schnap

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He found meaning
In places
Where others dare not look

A blank frame
On a theater
With a sign saying “Coming Soon”

In a window
Wearing hundred dollar bills

A milk crate
On a sidewalk
By an empty plastic cup

A fortune cookie
Cracked open
Without anything inside

And his face
On his license
Looking like someone he’d avoid

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Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Apothecary of Broken Hearts

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Contributor: James Robert Rudolph

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Horatio, they call me Horatio,
loyal, lender of hands,
I bleed blue
because I’m true.

Pieces of hearts
cup in my hands
knit in my warmth.
I cannot break hearts
just remake hearts.

A lover’s deep shivving
brought you here to
my workshop of salves,
cuts from the desired
worth the wound,
a paraclete’s to restore
but nothing more.

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James Robert Rudolph is a retired psychologist and teacher having returned to old haunts in northern New Mexico after a busy career in Minneapolis. He believes in old-style magical realism, that inspired by the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, the high desert, and the deep, broad sky of the American mountain west. Recent poems have appeared in The Artistic Muse, Mad Swirl, and Bewildering Stories, among others.

Beowulf with Dr. Engelhardt

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Contributor: Donal Mahoney

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When Normal Norman takes his seat
in Room 220 in Dumbach Hall
to hear the eminent Dr. Engelhardt

recite Beowulf again,
Norman knows that he can suck
the boredom from the hour

if he can write a poem for his wife
better than the one he gave her yesterday.
This time, however, no poem comes

and so he knows that he must choose
one of the tricks he's used before
to drown out Beowulf again--to wit,

he can say the rosary till the bell rings,
sketch his wife's magnificent ass
or write something strange like this.

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Nominated for Best of the Net and Pushcart prizes, Donal Mahoney has had work published in print and electronic publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa.

Quick Change

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Contributor: Ysabel Hilado

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The chunky scarf wrapped
around my neck, a warming
beanie to my head

Floral cotton dress
Light and flowing with the breeze
Movement-swift and free

Bikini tops and
cover ups worn underneath
the heat of the sun

Fleece knit cardigan
feels soft and furry within,
as the leaves descend

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Ysabel Hilado resides in Artesia, California. Her work has been published in various magazines including Creative Communication. She is a streetwear fashion designer and seamstress who could be found on her website,

All The Same

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Contributor: Merecat Mogenblat

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How can you trust
how can you ever truly trust anyone again
when your mind is full of memories
of smiling, of loving faces
of joyful tears streaming down cheeks
of words said with so much passion
said with so much pleading
that all led
to nothing
that all led to lies
to faces breathing words
"I love you"
said to you
and said to another
and all a mere breath apart

How can you trust
what anyone says
when so many have said
so much more
and left all the same

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Contributor: Perry L. Powell

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Can I stand just on my rhetoric
or watch the pile of oak leaves turn
to brown mush like dead hands sinking
back into the stillness of autumn?
I am too old to climb the stairs now.
All the sweet skins I have known are gone.
My brain, like a ground squirrel, burrows
into its skull to wait for winter.

If this is a journey I must take,
no daylight can accompany me.
Like you, I will go to nowhere plain
and those who remember will remember
for just a while, for long enough that
the leaves will lose all their last shapes.

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Perry L. Powell lives near Atlanta, and spends evenings wishing things had been different. Because they aren't, he writes various poems and prose, some of which have appeared in Aphelion, Atavic Poetry, Frogpond, Futures Trading, Mobius, and Modern Haiku.

A Magical Mystical Dream

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Contributor: Debra Sasak Ross

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I walked through the forest in the moonlight
And I cast a magical spell.
I threw three pennies in the water
Straight down the old wishing well.
A voice told me to lie down and dream
A magical mystical dream.
I would travel to a kingdom of wonder,
Where nothing is as it seems.
I was told I would find a great treasure,
And seek to smuggle it home,
Where I could keep it forever,
And never again be alone.

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Debra Sasak Ross has been writing songs and poetry since she was seven. She is a mother of four and resides in Des Moines, Iowa.

What Poems

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Contributor: E.S. Wynn

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What poems will I write for you
when I know you
when the sweet syllables of your name
run succulent and honeyed
along my tongue

What words
will I rhyme and tie
to the allusions that bring the mind
to the color of your hair
the mind behind
your eyes

I wish I could see you now
in perfect clarity
I wish I could know you now
leave little musings like these
inked on sweet-scented paper
each hand-delivered
to your doorway

or tucked gently under the wiper
on the windshield of your car

I wish I could do more than wish
wait and wonder
I wish I could compose something
more suited
more substantial
but we both must wait
until the days
we'll spend together
can coalesce into sacred moments
full of details
ripe for the pursuit of poetry
ripe for the pages
of a book we'll write

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E.S. Wynn is the author of over sixty books in print and is the chief editor of Thunderune Publishing. This poem is one of many featured in the book titled "What Will Be"

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