Gray Sand

featured in the poetry forum October 19, 2018  :: 0 comments

wet gray sand
gobs dropping through fingers

blustery day
wind slaps goose-pimpled skin

I create footsteps for detectives to follow
as of now no crime

a house on stilts
a lady holding her skirt above the waves

maybe the past can’t be revisited
but ghosts leave fingerprints

some think they are so smart like
those sails far out on the horizon riding the wind

that far free joy so unreal
as feet here walk around the driftwood, seaweed, rock

there’s something in the pit of the stomach
seawater, salt shriveling the human

everything has been decided
tides carry out the past, return only wreckage

where can one hide a body?
where can one hide a heart?
not in the gray sand.

– Dan Cuddy

editors note: No tempting a capricious tide. Keep your crimes to yourself, undone. – mh clay

Looking at the Future

featured in the poetry forum October 14, 2018  :: 0 comments

here we go
better take care
think about this
think about that
breathing deep
with our minds
on the countdown

the sky rips open
we fall off the world
never enough
but at least
we’ll never
grow old

take that with a
grain of salt
again and again
living in the age
of technology
looking at the
just like you


bones buried
in the marsh
bells ringing
under the tree
of life

get low
get high
get it on

– James D. Casey IV

editors note: If forever lives tree, might forever live we. – mh clay

D= 1243 Joy

featured in the poetry forum October 12, 2018  :: 0 comments

Are we worth it?
We aren’t living up to our words
Hiding behind them
It’s become the custom, the norm
Tracing it back to before we were born
When we wore our words on our sleeves
Six pointed, yellow stars plead
Not to repeat the past
Make your words last
Fast on them if you must
but, let them digest in your soul
like coal they retain warmth
just don’t expect words to keep you warm
‘cuz words can be torn
when used too many times
That’s why I like to sleep on my lines
Walking on sentences, relating to my mind
You’ll find you need to choose your words carefully
Spoken word, spears like a sword
When in battle, choose your words
to spread fear in the cattle
So hop on the saddle
and ride your words into the sunset
Fuck, lets get wasted on words!
Taste them words
but remember,
once spoke, written, or broken
you can’t erase those words
So face them words!

– Misty Moore

editors note: Dialogue? Discretion? A formula to foment free expression… Ride’em, Cowboys! – mh clay

The Things I Do Become Calendar

featured in the poetry forum October 1, 2018  :: 0 comments

Pure illusion this movement forward, no entourage,
or chattel to carry me, what we never said haunts
me with the strongest memories.

No mountains to climb on my current agenda
the river never crossed was a stone bridge, not a
wooden covered one, how I remembered it.

Trail blaze, to make a new path geological
maps are helpful, sometimes the goal is an
illusion. People talk but what do they say—

impossible to know what anyone means—
sitting with tears your heart brain knows
the answer. Something new must form outside

normal procedure. Yesterday was exactly like
today. It can be difficult to make a new map,
to reconstruct those early years if you did not

keep an outline of your life. Move one day at a
time, let go the mercenary dream, how
much we want but never achieve. Accept

the surprise violets in this long forward
dream. The call of the unspoken, we could have
been closer, or said I love you one more time.

– Julene Tripp Weaver

editors note: Embrace those surprise violets. Let the map make itself. – mh clay

Essence and Effect of Peace

featured in the poetry forum September 26, 2018  :: 0 comments

Essence of peace is in

Universal amity
Unstinting charity
Unsullied dignity
Unimpeded serenity

Effect of peace is

Conflict culmination
Distress diminution
Endurance escalation
Refreshing reciprocation
Sanity salvation
Tranquil transition

Essence of peace leads to exhaustive effect of peace

The shift is apparently subtle

As gracious guise with poignant poise would ease

The tranquil muse to settle

– Prof. Rajdeep Chowdhury

editors note: All of these -ities, one can’t refuse to see how peace can settle your muse. – mh clay

Seen And Not Seen

featured in the poetry forum September 24, 2018  :: 0 comments

I stole this title
From an old tune
That isn’t sung but spoken
It reminded me
Of how I
Watched you that night
In performance
And noticed
How what you
Were creating
Affected everything
And how I went home
And have been writing
About nothing since
How you moved
Caught up in something
Better captured in a picture
Than in thoughts.
But as words are all I have
I’ll just say I still dream about
Untamed hair
Obscuring all but the motion of your
On the strings
And how my breath stopped
In that moment
And still does.

– Anne Mikusinski

editors note: To be a fan, to have a fan, to fan the flame and not flicker… – mh clay

Only God Knows

featured in the poetry forum September 23, 2018  :: 0 comments

Only god knows how much I need you.
I miss you as much as the snow misses
a moment to fall above the cedars.
Everyone says that I should keep moving on,
but I hear your voice coming toward me
slowly as if I hear an echo from a distance.
Weeping, because of my daily routine, the
autumn season appears twice in one year.
First was from the cloud, second is from my eyes
bitter is how happiness tastes
I smile in my dreams, waiting to see you
before the train comes and leaves me in grief

– Ahmad Al-khatat

editors note: Such sweet longing; snow slurried, train taken, twice autumn and an aching heart. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum September 21, 2018  :: 1 comment


– K.W. Peery

editors note: Haunted? Or, humbled? Depends on the take… – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum September 10, 2018  :: 1 comment

People ask me
if I believe in God
and every time they do
I think of kissing her neck
from behind with her hands
in the sink, holding the wine
carafe like she loved glass.

– Ron Riekki

editors note: Love (and cleanliness) is next to what you believe. - mh clay

Alicia Stonehart

featured in the poetry forum September 7, 2018  :: 0 comments

She wanted a little room for thinking,
another for sleeping with strangers
she’d meet in out-of-the-way bars.

A space for counting the slights
she endured during her time at work
delivering proposals to bored boardroom

colleagues waiting to escape to ski slopes.
She needed a room for stitching desire
into slinky black dresses, another

for dinner meals taken alone in dim light.
A cage for her anger, a den for self-pity,
and a large cavern to hold the echoes of her dreams.

– blue

editors note: Be it shelter or shell, we just can't do naked. - mh clay