Category: Poetry

For everyone by Zaynab Mohammed

It’s clear we can’t agree On the past, the present and how we came to be Our pain of not being recognized Hurts our decency So we treat one another With complacency space My parents come from war torn countries They didn’t want to leave their homelands, culture, family or friends They left for a

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October Caterpillar by Liam Borhaven

Along the cool sidewalk it crawls  across frigid pavement  wandering around in this late fall  an October caterpillar  with no expectations  born too late  an early expiration  space Yet it goes on as if at the dawn of life  not worrying of the dire future  it simply lives on  eats, loves, crawls  its bliss is

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Her By Kit Sage

the simple way we fit together interlocking with the shy mocking femme fatale – You’re butter on a poppyseed bagel or coasters on the coffee table my very own sea raven. you’re gin and tonic on a parching summer’s day a perfectly aged cabernet a prepossessing paramour. heavens sent celestial animation saved me by resuscitation 

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Equations by Unknown

I don’t really know what love looks like except for a double-edged sword a qualification if certain a, b, and c conditions are met space I used to make so many excuses for my mother she was young she didn’t have a choice but there came a time when she could have used her voice

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Mediocre By Kendra Johnson

This girl is not ready to tell her whole story so she offers it in short words and sentences cryptic phrases and pithy replies she loves stories so much they save her for awhile space She lives in her storybooks because they are safer than ordinary life never makes plans for the future because she

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School by Eden Nightingale

Perched upon a weather worn post, he watches. The field, once a pasture, has become a nest of bowing grasses. Long shadows flee the setting sun. Orange light reflects off onyx eyes of the watcher. The silhouette of birds equal in number to the blades below. The sky is darkened with their number, as they

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Autumn Tempest by Eden Nightingale

She walks down the old dirt road bare feet creating no dust. s White skinned trees hold high their garlands of gold dancing in the wind which whips dark hair across pink cheeks. s Her eyes search the sky of pale blues worn through with twisting white mists. s A rumble, more felt than heard

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Loss by Eden Nightingale

Loss is the scent of an unwashed shirt.  A last chance to save the scent of STOP space Loss tastes of blood in the back of your throat raw from the screams because  STOP space Loss is time gone, mind numbed in a desperate attempt to forget  STOP space Loss is cracked lips from lack

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