Inside The Echo

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Contributor: Michael Kagan

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I blow song after song
my secret audience hiding behind the plaster
in between the walls
I feel her presence cheering me on
in the kitchen and through the halls
the horn cry's out
the voice of my thoughts
I fill these rooms with music
until the floors begin to shake
we are together inside the echo
oh how she warms me
in this cold place

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Michael Kagan is a jazz musician residing in Canada. Published on

Split Pea Soup

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Contributor: Judy Moskowitz

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Whispers in my ear of guilty pleasures
remorse when past meets present
secrets kept hidden behind a trap door
the high cost of living free
cupboards bare in a soundproof house
where insomnia walks the floors
It's complicated
decisions made in years past
sworn to tell the truth
the whole truth
but the heart interfered
a complex organ with ventricles
arteries and plaque
in the end the heart knows
it can't live without magic
deep into the delta blues
raw cane sugar
brown and sweet
savoring memories of velvet skin
while eating split pea soup

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Judy Moskowitz, a professional jazz musician, has been published in Poetry Life And Times, Michael Lee Johnson's anthology, Indiana Voice Journal, Whispers Of The Wind

Remembering His Third Wife

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Contributor: Donal Mahoney

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Never speak ill of the dead,
his father always said,
and his father was a pastor
who preached from the pulpit.

That's why whenever
he thinks of his third wife,
and he does almost daily,
he never says anything bad.

Instead, he sends himself an email
and records for history yet another
evil deed she managed to execute
during the years they had six kids.

Between kids she drove him nuts.
He never thought she'd die
and never hoped she would
because as he said in an email,

the Devil has his hands full.
Then he saw her death certificate
and, by golly, it was embossed
so it had to be good as gold.

Since he couldn't keep the original
he took it to the office
and made a giant photocopy.
Now he wants the right frame,

black as he claims her heart was.
So far he has sent himself 400 emails
about his bonfire life with her, a brief
prologue to the Hall of Fame injustices

he maintains he suffered simply
because so long ago he said "I do."
He isn't certain what she said.
Perhaps it was "You're through!"

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Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.


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Contributor: JD DeHart

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Wanting to believe
in the goodness of the species
I return to a portmanteau.
Knowing the struggle, vicious
quotes, rumors held up
like knives, agendas so sharp
they slice through all reason.
A smile just looks like bared
teeth to me, at least this week
it does.
Wanting to believe in a modicum
of kindness, holding out a cup
to see if it appears.
Entering the room, I see the lions
waiting. They are hungry
and it isn't even lunch yet.

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Wish I Had The Ovaries

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Contributor: Ellie S. Vend

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Wish I had the ovaries
to be this, to wear that
wish I had the womb
to rise wise and proud
to tower in heels
to pad in flats
and all with equal ease.

Wish I had the ovaries
to be the me that I am inside
not hide, but rise
and cultivate the confidence
to open my hands
to take the lefthands
and the backhands
and the dark stares
and the trash talk
as compliments.

Wish I had the ovaries
to stand without quavering
to be steel staunch and solidly set
on a course of my own devising
without waivering
without wondering
if maybe I'm making a mistake
if maybe I'm making
a million meaningful little mistakes.

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Contributor: Lyla Sommersby

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Autumn eyes,
so hard to find
I'm so lost sometimes
without that kind
of intensity
so hard to find
a life to dance
upon the rainbow with
so hard to reach
for soft and solid
instead of sharply sweet
gold and smoke
and shadow

but if our paths never cross again
if we never dream between
the interims and twilight times
if I never live to see
never live
to match your beauty

maybe we'll meet
at least
on the skyward end
of bifrost bridge
maybe we'll meet
and share a hug
or a high-five
or a mug of mead
and maybe you'll smile to see me
see me
as I truly am
maybe I'll be free
of the sting, of the chains
of this, all this
maybe I'll be the me
beneath all this blackened stubble
beneath all the thickened skin
stitched tight with the scars
you gave to me.

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I am a student in Miami, Florida. Painting is my other love. My first book, Sketches of Someone, is available through Thunderune Publishing.

Love Trust

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Contributor: John Dorn

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Lay me down
let me rest
really rest
into complete convalescence
wash away everything
that keeps me on guard
that keeps me worried
leave me safe
wrapped only
in the arms
of the one I love
the life I love
let me drift
to the tunes
of truly chill music
and be, simply be
in perfect love
in perfect trust
in all ways
and always.

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Megaphones of a Waterfall

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Contributor: Nikhil Nath

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On the megaphone
of a waterfall,

I capture silence
in a tree,

dropping a mile
or two from

the sudden clammer
of a typewriter,

wishing money would
jump out of

a philanthropist's
pocket, to submerge

me in a sea
of wanton desire

letting me escape,
in a boat

made of leaves.

- - -
Writing Poetry for the last 18 years
Have been published in several magazines including Leaves of Ink
Virginia Woolf had said "Write rubbish but write"
That is the maxim for my poetry.


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