Tammy M Darby

Nov 2017

John Edward Smallshaw

Angels painting crosses on
black doorways in the sky

kisses for the homecoming?

I wonder when and why

if the sunlight hides in shadows
and the night's in open view

who is it we wait for?

are the angels here for you?

Tammy M Darby Oct 2017

I can see no sign of goodness in the heart of humans

Please pardon me as from society I quietly withdraw
As chaos rapidly approaches inadvertently consuming us all
I can see no sign of goodness in the heart of humans
No visage of the future as it is submerged in red

Kings of the darkness devoured by greed
Each sits haughtily on a throne of fire
Rife with the odor of rotting souls and coin
When the Angel of death quietly called

Now burdened with fear at what they had created
That which could not be undone
Drenched in repentance
They fell to their knees
Bowed low their heads and prayed
Alas the hour had passed for forgiveness
And so too dying of the day

Please pardon me as from society I quietly withdraw
As the chaos rapidly approaches inadvertently consuming us all
I can see no sign of goodness in the heart of humans
No visage of the future as it is submerged in red
Alas the hour had passed for forgiveness
So commenced the disappearance of man

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Nov. 2017.

Oct 2017

Pradip Chattopadhyay

The Man on the Park Bench

My friend failed the appointment
and I had this man beside me
with untimely heavy woolen
peering into the condensed haze
of that October evening.

Being alone is scary,
the hoarse voice melted the silence
and being alive sometimes scarier
than not being,

he paused as if
the words had drained him

when you hope it the most
and none turns up
to feel and fill you.

The fog had almost devoured the halogen
leaving me only with the voice.

It's uneasy, I spoke at last,
isn't it weird to be talking
without being seen?

Not in the least,
his laughter rattled the slumberous air
the world long turned away its face
from the face beside you.

Oct 2017

Lori Jones McCaffery

ALL HALLOWS

It’s my day at last
To put on a mask
And be someone else.
But who shall I choose.

“The Scream” has been done
The President too
The Ewoks and Yoda
Have used up their moment.

Shall I be avenging
Or Little Bo Peep
Shall I become Gaga
Or Atilla the ***

I’d like to be pretty-
Liz Taylor perhaps
But her day is over
So why not Beyonce.

Pretty gets boring
Just ask Taylor Swift
Maybe I’d rather
Be someone less fancy

Someone who cries
For mistreated dogs
And beautiful sunsets
And other folks love

Someone who laughs
When irony rules
And giggles when
Everything turns upside down

Who is that person
And where is the mask
If I cannot buy it
I’ll just go as me.
ljm

One of my favorite holidays.

#halloween #masks

Oct 2017

The Dedpoet

Under The Cool Silence

On granite tops
Of a syllables edge,
Under the knife of the moon's
Tips and rustled
Tops of wilderness's troops
Marching in cooler bones
And aching the secretly
Emerging gold and browns
Alleviate the warm regards,
Bland of words
And so many, many of
The mind inherit the season
With feverish nostalgia,
Able to take sin among the
Flesh and cleanse the
Cools the breeze like
A sullen midnight tremble
In the lovers arms
Greasing the days with
An angels wing
And the eyes grow heavy,
Pure more so than you
Or I,
A cool silence
In the huge seasons
Flowing in the beads of
The virgins beneath
Winter's yelp.