Alicja Kuberska writes

Conversation at Breakfast

We remain like two lanterns on a narrow street

alienated by the light of day,

separated by the darkness of night.

For a short moment

the pale light of dusk envelopes us.

Between you and me

there is loneliness like black asphalt.

In the depths of puddles

the world without colors can be seen.

All is seemingly calm,

only the mild wind wrinkles reflection.

The leaves from the trees fall to the ground

just like our dead, dispassionate words.

Gas Light -- Stephan Wanger

Heather Jephcott writes

Continuous

The words

do not stop,

the sentences

go on without end

connecting thoughts

flowing into a giant sea

diverse ideas running

waves, after waves, after waves.

Reminders

of the sky

changing each second

becoming less

becoming more

blue, clouds, dark, rain,

variety repeating

but never exactly

and we are left wondering

what will happen next

as there is no surety

in part-time patterns.

A wealth

is ever before

unexplored life

expansively changing

still to be examined, considered

and our dim looks revealing tidbits

tiny parts, never the whole.

There is no end

to searching

should we desire full answers

whether simple or complex

as life dwells inside, outside

dynamics such as these.

Qualities

refined, beautiful

abound in great quantities

and can be found should we take

time to sit, watch, listen, inquire,

leading us forwards, onwards, upwards

to a higher calling,

a traveling state based on the purity of faith

in a being greater than all. 

 

 The Endless Sea -- Louisa Chase

Jeremy Seligson writes

FROGGIE BOTTOMS

Opening

door

can

scarcely

hear

those

frogs

fluting

Summer

night

who

climbs up

for

a frog

concert?

On foot-

bridge

over

stream

an

audience

for

frogs

Stands

in

darkness

for

the

frog

notes

fluting

Pursing

lips

the

man

slowly,

softly

croaks

along

A

gentleman

from

Atlanta

croaks

curiously,

“Silver-eye,

words

you croaked

a while ago

aren’t ones

you croak now

Your subject

changes”

“Yup, you

right!”

Somehow

an

empty

pond --

where

have

your

frog

friends

gone?

Waiting

in

shadows,

for

the

memory

of

frogs

piping

blissfully

When

each

of

us

has

gone

--frog

sounds
 
 Musical Frogs --archimedes