poems

Daily news is filled with images of death and disaster. As corpses pile up on screen, I try to scroll past or ignore the carnage, but am drawn back...

Tala Whiting pays tribute to her grandfather in this poem about his life.

Everyone in the vicinity has seen me bare, the vulnerability unbearable.

It was a greyhound back of the bus love story. His name was DeVon. Tall, lithe, black as night. He was a sad boy, starry-eyed but not sorry. He said...

When confronted in life with two options, to choose the road used over and over again or the road less travelled, what will you choose? Will you...

Rufus woke up and something was very wrong He could feel it in his bone, still wet yet somehow smoking in his mouth. He thought, gosh how long have...