Gone

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Contributor: Joezel Jang

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I sit on the beach
nostalgic beyond words, thoughts
scattering, running

Upside down, like sands
in a broken hourglass;
In search of meaning

through transient freedom,
lost in reckless abandon
Though in the process

of being, living
Immortally suspended,
incarcerated;

Still, invisible
quite incomprehensible,
Until they dissolved.

So, I walk away,
like the spilled sands, my thoughts
and my heart, simply, ran out.


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Joezel Jang is a Filipina poet and teacher who currently lives in South Korea with her husband and her cat. her work has been published online and on paper. She hopes to release her first chapbook in the near future.

Lightless

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Contributor: Clinton Van Inman

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Each year the light is less.
We can barely see it now,
The faint necklace of
The Milky Way.

The old ones were wrong,
You know with their waxed fingers
Pointing up like abandoned adobe.

Yet you know better in your cubical gardens
And half moth-eaten moons,
You have arrived in
Handcuffs.


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I was born in Walton on Thames, England in 1945, received my BA from San Diego State in 1977. I am a high school teacher in Tampa Bay and plan to retire at the end of the school year. I live in Sun City Center, Florida with my wife, Elba.

Even Still

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Contributor: Sam Ballard

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Standing in the field
(you know the one)
I call your name
(and hope you hear me)
Feel you warm within my heart
(feel you even here- so far)
And know
(somehow I know)
That you still think about me
(even still)
And love me, somehow
(even still.)


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Sometimes, when my fingers find the strings of my favorite instrument, I still think of you.

Like It Used To Be

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Contributor: John Ogden

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I wish life was simple
like it used to be
soil under my fingernails
food at my fingertips
vibration of life
in my fingerbones.

I remember a time
when prayer was a whisper
spoken from hungry lips
later smiling
with the promise of coming hope.

I remember a time when my back was strong
when I was young
in the heart
in the soul
before time knocked me down
broke me
brick by brick
and left me piecing poetry together
with fingers that no longer work so well
anymore.


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John Ogden was conceived of a government form and a passing mailbox. He lives somewhere out in the woods of a rural land more akin to the fantasy realms of literature than real life, and his favorite dirt bikes will always be the broken ones.

Diana

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Contributor: Clinton Van Inman

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Drag your white skull before blind seas
That tumble dazed to your mono-eyed magic.
Go tell Neptune when the night is through.
Charm him, too, with your waxing and waning.
But you can’t catch me with those veiled half smiles.
Your borrowed brilliance exposes you
As I know your darker side.
Go charm some other star struck rhapsodist.


- - -
I was born in Walton on Thames, England in 1945, received my BA from San Diego State in 1977. I am a high school teacher in Tampa Bay and plan to retire at the end of the school year. I live in Sun City Center, Florida with my wife, Elba.

The Monkey Shaved Its Arse With Jealousy

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Contributor: Paul Tristram

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The monkey shaved its arse with jealousy
the poor bugger couldn’t take no more.
They had just moved the love of his life
in with his enemy who was caged next door.
Fifty three different bars between them,
fifty two different gaps for him to view.
His mate running and chattering wildly,
the foreplay of the newly introduced two.
The monkey cursed, spat and threw stones
attacked the wardens whenever he could.
Smeared his excrement all over the ropes,
beat up the hanging tyre with some wood.
But he upset the visiting school children
when he lay down and banged his head.
So the next morning they called the vet
who came and shot the jealous monkey dead.


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Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.

Waiting for the Umpire

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Contributor: Donal Mahoney

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Ralph never planned on dying
but when he did, he was swept away
like a child's kite blown astray.

When he arrived at his destination,
he heard angels singing, harps playing
and Louis Armstrong on the trumpet

so he figured this must be heaven.
A nice old man at the gate, however,
waved him away without directions.

This confused Ralph until he found
an open window in the basement,
climbed in and found an elevator

that took him to the top floor.
There a smiling angel with big wings
walked him up a thousand concrete stairs

and showed him to an empty seat.
Ralph was in the bleachers now
with millions of others, simply waiting.

None of them had a cushion to sit on.
But down in the padded box seats
Ralph saw rabbis, priests and ministers

sitting in the front row, simply waiting.
His barber, Al, was sitting with them.
For 30 years Al had been asking Ralph

while trimming his few remaining tufts of hair
if he had finally been saved or was he still lost.
Ralph would always tell Al he believed in God

but that every year he cheated on his taxes.
Sin is sin, Ralph would quietly point out.
Faith is all you need, Al would shout.

Seeing his barber now in the front row,
Ralph figured that maybe Al had stopped
cheating on his dying wife.

Otherwise, Ralph figured, Al would be sitting
in the cheap seats, waiting with everyone else
in the amphitheater for the Umpire to appear.


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Donal Mahoney has had work published in a variety of publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa. Some of his work can be found here: http://eyeonlifemag.com/the-poetry-locksmith/donal-mahoney-poet.html

Invited

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Contributor: Clinton Van Inman

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It was no accident my coming here
For they must have known long before
I wandered to their farmhouse near
That soon I’d knock upon their door
During this darkest season of the year.

Call it more than a good neighbor’s sense
In snow to leave a porch lamp lighted
Or post the sign upon the picket fence
For those in need are all equally invited
Even if I thought it mere coincidence.


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I was born in Walton on Thames, England in 1945, received my BA from San Diego State in 1977. I am a high school teacher in Tampa Bay and plan to retire at the end of the school year. I live in Sun City Center, Florida with my wife, Elba.

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