Poet's Corner

A Hail of Lead (After Sandy Hook) By Barbara Peckham Blood can be bleached From the weeping floors. Broken glass replaced In the gaping doors. But today in a school Where children played Innocence was lost — Mourning came to stay! At a school near...

By Jeffrey Agnoli When I don't go out to meet the source of all dreams, then, fortunately, it comes to me, its secret tide line  reaching inland deep, up to my door, where in a mist, I half sleep. Standing...

Inside a lava pool sits a girl in a blue dress playing with water that jumps in her lap Closer to the sea her mother in a blue patterned dress And further her father in blue patterned trunks He is looking...

I’ve heard hello like a whisper half out of its holster. Snow says it that way. Bells go crazy with it, driving pigeons out of the steeple. Hello, hello, I do, I do. Watching our beautiful neighbor go by in snow...

By John Eisner   I think it began in the Keys, the night I hurried onto the dunes in search of my sleepwalking brother. the stars were as common and remote as freezer frost sharks in boy scout...

By Nan Byrne The little boat goes back and forth A steadfast engine against the tide Shuttling industry from dock to dock In darkness and in light The Captain’s granite shape in mist Upon the open deck stands fast As...

By Annette Sandrock friendly eyes empathize evaluate separate terminate clean the slate time is slowing it's too late stressful step crawling's best fever-laden sickly maiden eat to heal dwindling food morsels tasteless not in the mood hardly enough productive cough sweat from thought drugs are bought heavy chest painful swallow need to rest wait for tomorrow chores undone troubled ears texting's...

Airbeds asleep ’til summer ’17. Sandy floors swept. Outdoor showers sigh in relief. Harried drivers disappear. Car horns cease their sting. Hibiscus and cosmos sport late blooms but Autumn daisies and sedum reign supreme. A patter of acorns heralds...

By Margaret Emerson Out the window time slows gracefully slanted autumn light waltzes across the yard Fewer bird species gather at the feeder or wall seeded by David every sunrise before biking to coffee blueberry muffin USA Today Days shorter less to do visitors thinning clothes thickening In spite of the...

By the Supportive Daycare Program Summer and its nice warm days leave — Cool, crisp days of fall arrive Deep blue skies of October, Crispness Apples, falling leaves Halloween is coming. Dad says, "Let's get a pumpkin!" Apple cider — the smell...

in a wood / where nobody goes By Jill Jupen   in a wood / where nobody goes* You will come to it (to borrow a phrase).   You can do something forever. I did it once.   I mean, that happens.   The Archbishop of Anarchy. The poet and what he has...

By Lee H. McCormack To have nothing, or desire it to be, or to be in a place where nothing is, is the game of blind old monks. How some friends and family come to a similar...

By Linda Freedman The pumpkins are now waiting to be picked Big and orange and very round and thick Thinking of Linus in his pumpkin patch Carving and scooping and lighting the match With its glow and scary grin Waiting...

The Derby   Fickle flock fled far Beaches beckon bare Locals liberate Balmy breezes blare Boats becalm before Solar silence sates Fated fish fend free Anxious angler awaits Harbor hut hues hope Seashore surf sublime Rods refreshly real Down to derby time! — Rachel Alpert Rachel Alpert i­­­s a...

By Margaret Emerson a twenty-five blow gusting to forty cancels five ferries terminal flags snap against murky winter sky still we drive to dockside park in row two watch the great iron carrier force through the channel then open mouth wide to roll out her holdings never...

By Kristen G. Norman     If your life Had been A full pie — native berry Or even A spongy cake It was Cut in half Yet, that life was full Have to remember Such; and recall it Sweet native berry, Delightful one Sure glad...

By Jeffrey Agnoli   The river of News that we enter daily maddens and saddens but as its waters swim through us can sometimes gladden. There are random flowers of kindness and sacrifice and benevolence (nothing, of course, is really random) blooming everywhere across Fear's...

By Jim Lowell   The Turnabouts are flying in a breeze, Tacking their way to listless moorings. My son is at the tiller of his youth, Racing Whimsy past imagined rivals. The sense of fall is on the water...

By James Lowell Gust knocks are gathering for a blow where boats tug at their moorings, gulls become sea hawks in the upwell. I hold the suicide knob on my Edson wheel of my Everglades, heading to my piling...

The Window By Jill Jupen The window in the old house looked out and saw everything the window had ever seen. The day the wind blew down the poplar the window loved to watch, the poplar whose leaves danced like silver coins...