City of Countless Boats
/It was written first in Arabic. The current version is a free translation.
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…one boat to another,
I wander between hazy lanterns
On the water that suppresses…
By Fadi Abu-Deeb
Read MoreWriting Gallery
The Clown
/She enters an antiques store and wants to buy a painting of a clown. The old proprietor reveals why she can't buy it.
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…started looking at the walls. She had enough furniture, but she needed something on the walls of her apartment in downtown Ashleyville, Ohio. She walked to the rear of the small, crowded store and…
By Anita G. Gorman
Read MoreThat Place
/…have always wanted to go to
that place,
as a child I had seen it in a picture book.
Now, years later I stood…
By David Painter
Read MoreIf I Had A Voice
/…I had a voice to speak for Africa
My fatherland and that of my ancestors
I’ll gladly condemn the spate of inequities
That has gnawed deeply into our main…
By Christopher Okonkwo
Read MoreDeath by Fire or Ice
/…of her benefactors were dead. Even Robert. Her Robert. She could close her eyes and still feel his gentle touches and the warmth of his tender lips lovingly hovering over her…
By Hazel Dains
Read MoreThe Shadow Of Mortality
/A poem that reflects on the fragility…
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…was present from your early years
Though behind you, and obscure
The object of more worldly…
By Sam Bartle
Read MoreZero Equals Zero
/What if some zeros added…
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…comes to equal rights, nothing is more equal than zero. There is no way zero can be discriminated into being, more, or less. Zeros, whether plus, minus, or divided, remain equally committed to a sublime infinity of equality, equality…
By K. L. Shipley
Read MoreThe Long Journey Home
/…keys of our new home in Punawale, brought tears to our eyes,
As it marked the culmination of our long journey home!
Twenty two years and eight houses…
Dr. Elizabeth Vincent Koshy
Read MoreCarrie's Tuesday
/Shared societal trauma can…
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…didn’t want to hear it. She got quiet. So I yelled in the phone, “you still there?” Hahaha! I knew she was. She always acts like she through with me, when I tell her what Charles done done to me. Like she not gon’ be my friend no more. Charles ain’t no saint but I ain’t…
By D.W. Keene
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