After the Bomb

By Theresa A. CancroWilmington, Delaware, USA after the bombin each window shardreflected stars First published in The Bamboo Hut, February 2024

First Day

By Theresa A. CancroWilmington, Delaware, USA first dayat rehabchild's pose

Open Carry

By Theresa A. CancroWilmington, Delaware, USA sliver moon --in the dead of nightopen carry

In a Glass Bowl

By Tish DavisConcord Township, Ohio, USA so manyso far from homewinter rain I’m an American in China working to restart the supply chain disabled by the worst flooding in Thailand in half a century.translating work instructions—the universal languageof the office clockAs I walk through the narrow aisle between the cubicles, a woman calls to me from one of the window-lit offices reserved for visitors. It’s one of the Thai engineers.  She’s extraordinarily petite and in her conservative blue dress, reminds me of Bemelmans’ Madeline.  After rummaging through a paper bag, she presents me with a gift—a small package of white…

Ramadan Moon

By Nitu YumnamKolkata, West Bengal, India Ramadan moon—a Gazan child’sempty plate

Nakba 2023

By Vidya Premkumar Wayanad, Kerala, India  nihilisman ice cream truckwith children’s bodies

Nectar

By Tish DavisConcord Township, Ohio, USA The African Violets are about to bloom on the sill next to her bed. She taught me how to split these plants in two and how to stimulate the roots by pouring water into the dish that holds the clay pot. Sometimes when I visit, she cuts a slit in a small square of heavy paper and then inserts a single leaf.  She always asks me to add the water to the glass jar.On this first Mother’s Day without my mom, I try to surprise this other one.  After the nurse wheels my friend to…

The Meadow

Editor's ContributionBy Richard GrahnEvanston, Illinois, USA i stand in a blossoming meadowclover, poppy, and black-eyed Susanripples of fragrance soften the breezesummer’s bouquetdancing with the cloudslight-years awayfrom the horrors of war i’m a simple child chasing butterfliessun dazzling the world aroundcomes the buzz of a bee making honeyi’m up to my knees in a field of unknownsimagination unfetteredbut, oh, so ill-equippedto see beyond the flowers to see those far-off fieldstrampled into bloodto envision men in 3-piece suitsplaying chess in marble towersthe scribes rewriting historybankers funding violenceall i see is violet and green a ladybug lands on my shoulderlike me, another passerbyyoung…

Beyond the Threshold

By Jenny Ward AngyalGibsonville, North Carolina, USA the slow beatof an egret’s wingswhiteagainst dark oaks—earth’s annunciation vulturescradled on the windendlessly rockingthe tall pines singboth lullaby and dirge the milk-white fleshof a giant puffballbroken openunder the moonan old woman’s grief with this dropof russet inkfrom the acorn capI write nothing—the oak said it better a rift in the wingof a wild gooseflying headlongthrough gathering duskthe fate of the earth ~red lights 16:1, January 2020 Commentary on "Beyond the Threshold" by Tish Davis Jenny Ward Angyal’s tanka sequence, “Beyond the Threshold” is exquisitely crafted.   There is a subtle progression in each of the…

Limb from Limb

By Jenny Ward AngyalGibsonville, North Carolina, USA morning lightgilding the treetopsas they fallsplinters lodgein my paperbark heart the soundof limbs being brokenas if on a wheel—bloodless the fallen hollies,the heart of pine laid bare the blunt thrustof a bulldozer,the shudderof tissues torn apart—who cries for the earth me too a box turtlecrushed by the skidder’s treadat the edgeof the leftover woodsthis barricade of spiders’ silk plumes of smokerise from the clearcutsilvery as ghoststhe sound of wind chimesbefore the hurricane may the wordsthat tumble from my tonguebe turned to moss—creep over the wounded land,bury the cities of men ~Ribbons 15:1, winter…

Gone

By Jenny Ward AngyalGibsonville, North Carolina, USA the screamof a red-tailed hawkover the woodwhere dozers wait—my silent cry an echo the giraffeearns a placeon the Red List—Gaia’s ghosthaunts my dreams stacking stonesto build a cairn . . .balancingEarth’s bones,I awaken to vertigo fifty yearsfrom discoveryto extinction—a Pagan reed-warblersings in my heart 4% survivedthe Permian extinction,giving riseto all that lives . . .and to my flightless hope ~Ribbons 13:1, Winter 2017

My Experience with Mental Illness

By Jackie ChouPico Rivera,  California, USA Having a mental illness you’re no fresh-facedone-time jaileeready to be releasedback to society Nor are you a teen girlleaving the mountains where you were raisedto go to collegeget two master’s degreesand write a book Having a mental illness you carry its invisible bars on your backfor your entire life With proper treatment the gnawing symptoms are kept at bayso are the locked wardsand prison doors

Learning

By Sigrid SaradunnBar Harbor, Maine, USA  learningto choose peace  at leadership campIrish teens room withIsraelis and Palestinians

A New Bird feeder

By Kathabela WilsonPasadena, California, USA a new bird feederto inspire usbluebirdscardinals, mourning dovesbreaking bread together

Sometimes

By Kathabela WilsonPasadena, California, USA sometimessometimeswe don’t knowwhat we’ve sownin the minds of infantsthe turmoil we can’t control

Planting Seeds

Kathabela Wilson - Pasadena, California, USA  (kw)Jackie Chou - Pico Rivera,  California, USA   (jc)Sigrid Saradunn - Bar Harbor, Maine, USA   (ss) a dark sideand a sunlit spacein the mindsof our new generation howto nourish their best inclinations   (kw) edible seedsadd texture to the fleshof the dragon fruitif only he could seepast my spiky exterior   (jc) learningto choose peace  at leadership campIrish teens room withIsraelis and Palestinians    (ss) sometimeswe don’t knowwhat we’ve sownin the minds of infantsthe turmoil we can’t control    (kw) on the borderI drop seedsto both sidessunflowers and poppieswatering them with tears    (kw) leaving the shellsof her sunflower seedsover the tablewhat example was momplanting in me   (jc)      Thanksgiving in Junecelebrating Seeds of Peacesharing a common mealstrangers now friends with similar feelings   (ss) a new…

The Green

By Kathabela WilsonPasadena, California, USA It was a tree, becomes a song, a table, leaf after leaf, opening. We sit around its absence as it floats on memory. Shapeshifter becomes dreamcatcher, an escape hatch, small carved windmills turning very fast. We pull up small stumps polished clean. congress of earthlingsconsidering the revivalof greenwe fall asleepin different languages First Place - Science Fiction Poetry Association's Dwarf Stars Award, 2018. First published in the Glass Lyre Press anthology, Carrying the Branch - Poets in Search of Peace.

Feather Dusting

By Tish DavisConcord Township, Ohio, USA FirefliesLight beamersNever tellStory-keepers Youthful frolicMoon minorsMemory flickersOld-timers Keepsake lanternsSummer starsAlways releasedFrom these glass jars

Night Paddling

By Tish DavisConcord Township, Ohio, USA I show my son how to tie up the food pack. “It keeps the bears away.” He carries me through the darkness to the lake’s edge where my husband is waiting with the canoe. The last time I was in the Boundary Waters I was the teenager. Now I must ride in the center of the boat. My doctor advised against this trip and told me not to expect remission from the disease that is consuming my body. Paddles pull us forward away from the pines and into starlight.  Here the moon dissolves into…