​Mama Knew Me Too Well | by Paul Beckman

Mama gave me the six female figurines over decades. She sculpted them for me. She told me the bloated breasts, rippling necks, stomach rolls and edema-filled legs on five of them reminded her of me. I was happy when she gave them to me because, for most occasions, she gave me a small check and…

Two poems | by Ken Allan Dronsfield

​Earth Cries; Heaven Smiles White rose petals gently fall floating down to bare ground lilacs open inhaling the sun essence of both waft above. ladybugs dancing leaf to leaf dragonflies sit alert on a post robins skip on fresh cut lawns old cats nap in sunlit windows granddads reflect in old chairs kids laugh playing…

Three poems | by Sanjeev Sethi

Strife During initiation an unwritten contract is formed. A wordless mise penned to fine print. When blue- print is betrayed ruptures appear. More serious the  transgression more rooted the rent. There is no  testimony or tribunal. Those with injured feelings  respond: bluster of terraqueous beings. Living Let me lie. Turds of  truth have vexed me. …

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: DAPO OLORUNYOMI NATIONAL ESSAY COMPETITION (DONEC) 2017

The Dapo Olorunyomi National Essay Competition is an initiative flagged by the Department of Communication and Language Arts, University of Ibadan. Displaying exemplary hard work and integrity, Dapo Olorunyomi, a seasoned journalist, has been actively involved in the fight against the menace of questionable activities in governance and domineering leadership. Thus, in honor of his…

CALL FOR ENTRIES: PIN ANNUAL FOOD POETRY CONTEST (PFPC) 2017

For ages, feeding the mouth and the mind has ensured the sustenance of mankind, making food and arts complementarily indispensable. Accordingly, Poets in Nigeria (PIN) calls for submissions of food-related poems for the 4th edition of the PIN Annual Food Poetry Contest (initiated in 2013 as Eriata Annual Food Poetry Contest). PRIZES 1st Prize –…

America Wasn’t So Bad Back Then | by Donal Mahoney

​We have something in common, a fellow I talk to now and then. We’re about the same age and perhaps the only ones in the diner who think our past lives are interesting. So when the two of us shoot the bunk over coffee, it’s amazing that two men who sometimes can’t remember much about yesterday remember a lot…

Three poems | by Jake St. John

​Nights At Mike’s We were  young dumb  and knew it all higher than a hawks nest in his parents basement we’d change the world  and find ourselves before it was all  said and done we told anyone that would listen that someday  we’d cross  the country together they said  they’d been saying  the same thing …

Three poems | by Alyssa Trivett

​Paper I trashed receipt paper, a high school kegger of semicolons on lawn chairs and commas sitting in the  kiddie pool. They floated around the room, waiting for red and blue lines, or a blinking, weary cursor to chaperone and grab them, hide keys under the cat. Scrawled all over every nook and cranny  or…

ALL THE FLICKERING SHADOWS (Episode 2) | by Steve Carr 

Sitting on the front steps, Jacob watched a large gray doe on the road as it casually strolled along the edge of the woods. He had seen it several times before. There was a patch of darker gray hide on its side that was shaped like the state of Florida. As before, it came out…

ALL THE FLICKERING SHADOWS (Episode 1)| by Steve Carr

Before the sun had risen Jacob heard the prowler shuffling through the brittle leaves. That sound and a warm breeze floated in through the open window by his bedside. He pushed aside the sheer white curtain that was yellowing with age and searched the darkness. The crackling of the leaves being crushed under foot reverberated…

Three poems | by Allison Grayhurst

​Shroud The Moon I see your eyes float like balloons through the giant storm. I cradle your blanket. I cry on the carpet like a child, all in privacy, between rooms & walls. All for the farewell too real to speak. The world will not compensate, will not hold the hope to get out of…

“A Nut Job” | by Mare Leonard

Is he the warm chestnut bought from a vendor under the EiffelTower, the sweet meat, tasting like long lasting truth?   Is he a walnut cracked open by the matriarch at the Christmas table to be passed around to  kids so they could nibble a bit of honesty?   Is he an almond grown in…

Three poems | by JD DeHart

  Plight of a Perfectionist   It is quite something indeed to realize that all points of life offer some semblance of disillusionment   If you expect the ceiling to be so high, people to putter around kindly, and every object to be made of marble. Axis Point   Here I sit at the spinning…

Two poems | by C. Z Heyward

Though I May Try … There is No Perfect Place nor Time to Love You  When I first wrote my name on your body it was as a child would. Grabbing every crayon from the box. Trees were purple and blue. Grass was orange. The sky yellow. The dog red. Didn’t understand the lines and…

Three poems | by Victor Ugwu 

1. Dusk I Dusk bleeds A poem of wreath… II blue sores enclave Songs coursing broken tongues of dawn Seconds walay On slippery knolls— Time’s essence fall Into (y)our stenched pots III This man From east Of west Drinks life from your gourds As all your yearns Fix firm roots In his pockets While yours…