Tag: writing
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Infantry of Words by Robyn Petrik
When poems spillfrom my fingertips,I imagine each wordas a soldiermarching into battle. Wildly afraidbut proud to serve,hopeful for a victory. Robyn Petrik is a writer and poet from Vancouver, BC. Her poems have been published by Polar Expression, Moss Piglet, and Coffee People Zine. Robyn is addicted to traveling, climbing, and hiking, and does her…
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A completely unnecessary poem for my first love
Everyone else failed me except you,Mere machines buzzing with constant sound of self-destruction,they mortified me too, love.Their wounds opened and healed in my hands,My body clock ticks only to bring waterto deserted lands.And when these hostile beasts I’ve loved after youcome aliveto vapor their flux down on me again,I come back.You appear to be everywhere…
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On Writing: A Pantoum by Maggie Swofford
Ejecting love through darkest inksis a turning, an aimto match the missingpieces left behind to the whole. Some aim to turnmemories into skin, skewering thepieces left behind. Around the hole,gravity pulls each particle to my memories, skewering my skin topages—anyone’s thumbs would numb aseach particle pulls gravity.Holding the light white canvas of pages (my thumbs…
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Haunting: Spell for Removal of Unwanted Spirits by Katrenia Busch
It’s not the house that’s haunted, it’s the person. Spirits that linger within disguise A phantom of the ghostly night Was all but forgotten amongst the wise With grimly tales that take delight By orders issued and advised By a hand that’s said to now ghostwrite: Lift your finger, shake your noseLook up, look down…
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Night by Yuu Ikeda
Night leaves tearson my notebookevery time dawn comes back The ink emits a light like a firefly,and sinks to the seamless horizon Even if you vanishfrom my view,my notebook reminds meof your sorrow Even if I’m swallowedby cruel sunrise,my notebook makes me feelyour warmth Yuu Ikeda is a Japan based poet. She writes poetry on…
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Winter Tracking by Renée Francoeur
When my father saw his tundra wolfIn the winter of 1985He didn’t know it was meMuskoxenRotting purple in my bellyKrummholz treesReflecting in my pupilsWreathed in mustardFur the colour his beard would turnPlastered to the ice roadTongue turned whiteHe stopped his truck And held my headIn the middle of nothingnessNahanni’s black sprucesReaching from the shadowsThe ashen snow…
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Transfiguration by Missy Grieco
I found a notebook filled with fragments.fleshless bones,skeleton poems,stillborn fiction.I reread them,bleedings from a badly sutured year,throatless memoirmy own ragechoked by my own pen.my own thoughts shrouded, unallowed.no more.I tore each page from the spine and burned my words alive. Missy is a Cleveland poet, madly in love with words.
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Does Your Soul Live With You? by Aleksandra Vujisić
Does your soul live with you? It is dark. The night is losingits battle against the eternity,although it’s never giving in.I was trying to switch offthe moonlight, and take offtoday’s colourful skin. Because beneath there isa memory of never endingnight that started with a fool moon.Because beneath there aretricky memories ending likea good movie –…
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The Open Field by Robert Allen
My eyes are lilies.My skin turned toflower flesh forcingsecrets straightto my bright heart.So I become a rose,flower head with no potbut field fresh and readyfor my growth. Robert Allen lives and loves with his family in northern California. In his spare time he writes poems, takes long walks, and looks at birds.