THEME POETRY
Each issue has a new theme - take a look at previous issues below and click to read them all!
JANUARY 2021 = NEW BEGINNINGS
Fresh Snow
Kassie Runyan
United States
The white sparkled crunch
beneath my heavy boots
disrupting the silence of the day
Untouched and undisturbed
by man or beast
as I am the first to take a step
Producing the first marks
in the pristine surface
and feeling powerful and new
It is only frozen water
and nothing more,
the whisper stirs deep in my mind
It questions, sarcastically,
why the power in an action
that anyone else can do?
I shush the whisper away
not letting it upset my day
and my feeling of accomplishment
In being the first step down
as my little foot makes its mark
deep into the fresh fallen snow.
​
Just A House
Billy Harrington
England
https://www.Instagram.com/thepoetbillyharrington
https://www.twitter.com/thepoetbillyhar
Now that every room is empty
In this house that was your home
With all the troubles, squabbles
Laughter, sadness, hatred and the moans
The windows have no curtains
There's no carpet on the stairs
If I can just be honest
I'm just a house and I don't care
You run your fingers on my brickwork
You open each and every door
Each room that held your richness
The barest floors when you were poor
The slightest smile of a memory
Of that cat that caught the mouse
Look, I hate to be that bastard
I don't care, I'm just a house
Months before your child's birth
You could not stand for throwing up
And the notches on the door frame
Of your son, now all grown up
And when you caught your husband
With the neighbour in your bed
I'm not really bothered
I'm just a house like I have said
​
One last gander at your garden
And the swing tied to the tree
That cunt has signed the paperwork
And finally set you free
This home of anger, joy and sorrow
All those memories that you'll keep
I'm just a house and I don't care
I'm afraid I'm not that deep
Very soon I'll have new owners
Who'll brush your life out from these halls
Replace you from the fixtures
And strip you from these walls
Maybe one day you'll pass me by
And remember life in there
But I'm only bricks and mortar
I'm just a house and I don't care
The Gate
Mohamed El Hossaini
Morocco
Where shall we go
with these ghosts of the past?
Sorrow and grief are always here
There's no power to endure them.
But I know happiness is near.
I believe there will be a gate.
A gate that will help me
forget the misery.
A new dawn would be ushered in,
Where flowers and leaves will glow.
My wings will sprout back,
And I will fly high with no return.
Accept these tough moments
with might and determination.
And vanquish them with no mercy.
I go forth and applaud my victory
where I leave all my struggles behind.
​
Time Will Write History On You
(For all who have died from Covid-19)
Guna Moran
India
Translation: Bibekananda Choudhury
Time how cruel you are
Our devotion is still far tougher than it
Fighting on
We would continue penning
on your bosom
The history of our triumph
You would remain a spectator
To our indomitable entity
You would remain a listener
To our fame and glory
You would turn into history
To carry to our progeny our motto
You would lose on the brink of winning
We would win on the brink of losing
We would stay alive even after dying
You would die even though living
You’d rise again
Like Phoenix from the ashes
Our Progeny would fight again with you
Pages in the history of triumph would get added on
countless diyas would blow on our altar
Time how cruel you are
Our devotion is still far tougher than it
Fighting on
We would continue penning
on your bosom
The history of our triumph
You just watch
​
Making Wings
Tara Aryan
United Kingdom
https://www.Instagram.com/mrs_tara_aryan
https://www.Facebook.com/personalaboutpoetry
https://www.twitter/aryan_tara
The transparency allows me to navigate,
As I stitch, seal and smooth hoping I am not too late,
I tried to reach you, yet you were already too high,
I was out of my depth, I needed to learn how to fly,
Every time my feet left the floor, it was never enough,
When the moments were upon me, when time got too tough,
I held out my arms if they were wings,
Yet all they ever were, were my useless limbs,
That couldn’t take flight so I could travel to you,
As the news it hit me, I didn’t want to believe it was true,
I was lost and broken as you were my other half,
Staring at the face that says nothing, in that framed photograph,
Where we lived and loved, cried, argued and laughed,
Life shattering our dreams into fragments my shell now halved,
See, I am making these wings and I know it’s a risk,
Our time together felt fleeting and bitterly brisk,
My wings are made of white feathers, those you’ve sent as a sign,
Because you’ve given me the material to invent what now is mine,
Glued together with tears as they spread so magnificently,
I undertake this task with much pain and difficulty,
Your face painted in my mind and sketched to artist perfection,
The reason why I am making these wings are a constant reflection,
As I’d do anything to meet you here again,
Now it’s just a matter of where, how and when,
I flap and dance hoping to climb great heights,
Despite the cold wind blustering I manage to take flight,
Gaining elevation I manage to float above the clouds,
As I should and scream your name, echoing so loud,
There you stand almost like a projection, smiling and waving,
Keeping momentum to get towards you as my emotions are caving,
There was great reason to believe these wings could truly fly,
So I could travel way up to heaven to give you my last goodbye.
​
Castaway
Ellen Birkett Morris
United States
https://ellenbirkettmorris.ink/
Eve left Adam and moved to a trailer off Route 66. The trailer was small, but had room for her Penguin Classics that she read at night instead of watching television, which she only turned on for the weather. She didn’t miss the garden. The thrum of traffic replaced the murmur of the wind in the trees. The stars were blotted out by streetlamps, but if she pressed on her closed eyelids she could see small flashes of light, a private show. Eve worked at a rib joint down the road. The red sauce dripping off the bones made her crave crisp, green salad. She watched the truckers gorge, their bellies swollen, savoring the emptiness of her womb. She ignored their whistles and smacked their greedy hands. She pocketed dollar bills and anthills of change to buy chocolate bars from the vending machine at the laundry mat. In the late afternoon, her clothes on permanent press, she’d sit in a plastic chair, watch them tumble dry, slowly unwrapping chocolate, the bittersweet taste on her tongue, sheer heaven.
​
Mother Nature’s Antibiotic
Jerrica Magill
United States
https://www.Instagram.com/nicoletteSoulia
https://www.tiktok.com/seekthefire
https://www.twitter.com/NicoletteSoulia
The world kept spinning as society ground to a halt.
In fact, it seemed to spin faster,
as if trying to shake us off
in the way dogs shake off water after
that bath they hate to admit made them feel better.
Earth - invigorated by our frozen state,
Earth flourishes.
It breathes deep
and finally kicks the smog congestion of its lungs.
It breathes again,
and its organs begin to synchronize.
The trees breathe back,
the oceans splash
and wash the Earth of its human infections.
The birds gather in parks again.
The wolves and coyotes and cougars become
the new security guards of the empty city streets,
like prowling white blood cells
coursing through Earth’s veins.
Earth thrives during human demise,
and that shit really pissed off Capitalism,
the most choked out virus of humanity.
It doesn’t like knowing that it’s not needed.
Capitalism is a narcissist - and now it’s fighting back.
​
Let Us Cry
Darshana Thapa
India
I caught a glimpse of stars today,
when I was a passerby
along the banks of river
I quickly made a wish
and looked up at the sky.
Thinking stars had dropped
down from the sky so high.
I wished for everyone one
to cry with full of tears in
our eye to fill the land so dry.
Create oceans, lakes and seas
never to let them dry.
If millions of us will cry
won't we be able to make a difference?
Skies filled with swift flowing river,
oceans with moon and stars,
mountains with sun rising and shooting stars
to fulfill our wish every time.
Never allow drought and famine
appear and everyone was blessed
with prosperity, happiness and joy.
Paint the rivers of your tears,
violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, red,
and make a wish to create a rainbow
high up in the sky with feelings mingled
of millions that will never die and live till eternity.
Just make a wish and draw
trees, plants, animals ,bird alive,
and all the worldly creatures stabilize,
to save our Earth and never to destroy.
Unity in diversity is powerful,
gives strength and courage,
and holds up the sky.
​
Let's Talk
Petronella Powell
United Kingdom
It’s time for a fresh start,
To free our hearts from the pressure we put them under
And release our minds from the pain we put them through,
It’s time for a new beginning,
This year we should try to be kinder to ourselves
And stop locking away our feelings on a shelf,
Instead let them free so our minds can be,
It’s a year to start talking about how we feel,
To help both ourselves and the people around us
Because if we discuss what’s going on in our brain
We’ll help stop each other from going insane,
Everyone feels pain
But not everyone lets it out,
So they just try to black it out,
That never helps
But talking does,
It sometimes even gives you a buzz,
So this year lets talk about how we feel
And stop making talking a big deal,
Let’s normalise it
So we can help each other heal.
​
Come back of everyday life
Alicja Maria Kuberska
Poland
It will be fine again
and the world will regain its brilliance
Time will go on,
bad hours will pass
- these ones filled with fear,
suffering and tears.
One day the death will forget
to sharpen its scythe.
Joy will return home
to bloom on the faces
Sadness and fear
will settle in memories like a bit of dust
- only sometimes
they will echo in the nightmare dreams
or will recall in the stories
about long days of horror
​
You have stayed in November…
Lesya Bakun
Ukraine
https://www.youtube.com/c/LesyasHowTos
You have stayed in November -
Fully,
From a spicy acquaintance
Until the sharp ending,
In November,
When you
Have not written a single line
Of prose,
Did not grow a mustache
And even your No Nut
Has failed.
And I
Went on to the frosty,
Clean December
To crystallize
And come out clean:
Without any impurities,
Expectations and goals of others,
Fractures and strains -
Because how can
a power of nature
have them?
I will leave December
With no layers of scale,
Without technical impurities,
Source only,
With a clear,
Sophisticated structure,
Capable
Of tearing dams
I.
​
New Beginnings
Jonathan Child
United Kingdom
​
Two faces,
One smile,
Two heads,
One hairstyle.
Two bodies,
One profile,
Two thoughts,
One fire.
Two lies,
One divide,
Two brains,
One mind.
Two minds,
One private time,
Two perspectives,
One paradigm.
Two changes,
One restyle,
Two gods,
One design.
​
Two cultures,
One superhighway,
Two hearts,
One aisle.
Two prides,
One infantile,
Two mobile phones,
One dial.
Two hates,
One bile,
Two truths,
One tie.
Two dreams,
One drive,
Two negative beliefs,
One misfiled.
Two anomalies,
One: ‘not classified’,
Two wars,
One trial.
Two suicides,
One grief exile,
Two happy planets,
One universal smile.
​
Paint
Claire Kroening
United States
Paint with true color
Trace in bold strokes
Hold each closely
For you alone can see
Beauty is hidden deep inside
Every line and stroke you make
So observe where you stride
Skipping over each other line
What you find in these vibrant tones
Might lead you to a path
All your own
​
Hebrew for The Tree of Life –
so I skipped it
Doreen Arnoni
Canada
She came often to stand beneath
my branches.
Quiet, still and
tranquil as though in my presence
there was peace and solace.
What did she see in my tangled arms?
The seasons of her life perhaps.
The dreams of a young girl reaching
for the sky, no limits to the
possibilities that might lie ahead.
Words of love surround her. Tenderly
recalling the partner with whom she shared
the meaning of her world.
Were my arms hers, holding her children,
teaching them to be strong, sturdy
and rooted in a world that would
not always be kind.
​
There would be anger, injustice, war,
discrimination and hate.
They learn that these abominations
must be fought and they must teach their children
as they are being taught.
Days when her eyes reflected sadness, the times of loss – a loved one gone, an angry word that could not be recalled, an
unintended hurt that could not be soothed.
Days of joy. A new life, a new season,
an unexpected gift, a sickness healed and
the knowledge that she has done well.
No longer young, her face is a testament to the passage of time. Each line well earned, each
grey hair the dues paid to a club whose membership is
a privilege not given to all.
She came to me. I was her friend, her constant
companion in life. Indeed, I was
her life.
And then she came no more.
​
In Another World
Nick Ionescu
United States
https://www.facebook.com/poetrepublic
https://www.twitter.com/renegad13704947
https://www.Instagram.com/nick_Ionescu_author
I feel myself trapped, in another world,
As my thoughts, begin to unfold,
Amidst torn visions, left behind,
Of another time...
A moment, reminiscent, of pure bliss,
Caught, within your magnetic gaze,
Which, pierced through me,
As you passed by...
It was, as if you were able,
To peek at my soul, from within.
As creativity, now floods me,
I am pushed, towards love,
Engulfed by its depth,
Another written verse,
Overflowing, within me,
I’ve cast, throughout the universe,
My wishes, as they are held,
In the dreams, of you and I,
Within a sea, of countless stars,
Amidst the night’s sky,
Created, from the space, where,
I’ve allowed, my words to flow,
Along, the vibrations which,
Emanate, that of which, I speak,
Under the Moon’s, gentle afterglow.
Ascending, and descending, in waves,
Of rhythmic patterns,
My heart continues, to pulsate...
Only to find itself, swept up,
As it’s become enflamed,
By howling, moments of passion,
Its gentle winds, reoccurring...
Sweeping breezes, as feelings,
Built up, without warning,
Yet, this is only, the beginning...
​
Rainbow
Matt Cummings
United States
https://www.trappedpoet.wordpress.com
https://www.facebook.com/trappedpoet
Stuck in the gray boring house
Sheltered away from my empty heart
I didn’t want to look at it, bittersweet memories
Rainbow in my eyes, singing a beautiful song
Sonata of my youth, faithless
The pain I feel, so right, it’s feeling wrong
I want to see that blue cloudless sky
Above my head, I read your testament
Of my youth, I pray to lose
Feeling loose, I want to dance across the rainbow
Gleefully spontaneous blooming of my heart
The poet inside me, no longer trapped
So many colors to see, so little time
Icarus flew through the sky
Reminds me how much magic I have left
Snaps of my fingers, I no longer feel gray
The world itself is blue and it’s beautiful
Here I am, on this small stage
Making my stand, in the world’s stage
For all to see, my flaws, flowing emptiness
Flashes of lights, no smoking guns
My brain’s draining, vainly madness
Filling up with rainbow
I’m finally happy
Hope you are happy too
In the world full of rainbows
​
MEET THE TEAM
Mel
Mel is a special needs teacher from the UK. She lives by the sea and loves nothing more than walking along the beach with a coffee from her favourite cafe. She has always loved reading and writing poetry.
Kassie
Kassie is a poet and fiction author from NYC. She spends her days working in marketing and her nights writing and designing... when she isn't traveling and trying to find the next best brewery.