Tanka for Butterfly Baby Grand Piano
By Marieta Maglas
A butterfly lands
on a pressed piano key.
Makes the sound be like
a vortex at the wing edge
with a tremolo effect.
Marieta Maglas: Ardus Publications, Sybaritic Press, Prolific Press, Silver Birch Press, HerEthics Books, and some others published the poems of Marieta Maglas in anthologies like Tanka Journal and Three Line Poetry #25 also #39 edited by Glenn Lyvers, The Aquillrelle Wall of Poetry edited by Yossi Faybish, A Divine Madness edited by John Patrick Boutilier, Near Kin edited by Marie Lecrivain, ENCHANTED – Love Poems and Abstract Art edited by Gabrielle de la Fair, Intercontinental Anthology edited by Madan Gandhi, and Nancy Drew Anthology edited by Melanie Villines. Her poems have been also published in journals like Poeticdiversity, I Am not a Silent Poet, and Our Poetry Corner.
By Wanda Morrow Clevenger
we don’t get
HBO & Showtime
since our network
instead we get the
ufo channel 194
we didn’t request it
it just comes free
with our no-frills
and they let me keep
my soap channel
but moved it from 4pm
to 11am on 4
and 6pm on 117
I watch it at 6pm now
while we eat supper
the man doesn’t like
anything I watch, calls
all of it stupid
but still doesn’t bother
to get up at 6 pm to eat
in another room
Wanda Morrow Clevenger is a former Carlinville, IL native. Over 443 pieces of her work appear in 155 print and electronic publications. Her flash fiction “Roses and Peppermint Candy” won the 2014 Winter Short Story Contest in The Holiday Café. Her poem “corsage” won the 2014 Black Diamond Award for Excellence of Craft in The Midnight on the Stroll Poetry Contest. Her nonfiction “Big Love” was nominated for 2016 Best of Net by Red Fez literary journal.
By Gaynor Kane
How hard they were to herd, heaving beasts roaming loose,
casually chewing cud and looking at us like mad things.
Delighting in the deliciousness of weed-free grass,
thickened by morning dew and lengthened by a good spell.
Branded with a stubborn streak, they gathered in a gang
and all our shoo shoo shooing and be away with ya nowing
did nothing to make them reconsider. They feasted,
filling all their tummies, trampled, turned lawn to sods.
There is a network in villages like this; under the radar
communications, bouncing your troubles between walls
like white noise. Help arrived before asked for.
Charlie T on a quad, full fired throttle up the drive,
braking hard kicking out a gravel cloud. Behind
wee Tommy T, carried willow twice his height.
They dismounted, approached the cattle, surefooted.
Sent silent signals, tenderly tapping on flank or rump.
Although Tommy was short of years, cows responded
filtered into a line, sauntered in pairs down the drive,
through pillars, up the lane; all done without a word.
Swooped shovels, scooped and hurled the still wet pats,
into the trailer like sliotars. Shook mute apologies,
then were gone. Leaving our dumbfounded laughter
to break the silence, against the rape field backdrop
of our invasion, looking at the trodden, sodden lawn.
Gaynor Kane is a graduate of the Open University with a BA (Hons) Humanities with Literarure. She has had poems published in the Northern Ireland Community Arts Partnership’s anthology ‘Matter‘ and in online journals, such as: AtriumPoetry, The Galway Review and Panning For Poems. Gaynor was recently appointed as a member of the Executive Board for Women Aloud NI. Founded by Jane Talbot, Women Aloud aims to support female writers from and/or living in Northern Ireland.
After the sunset rises the poet
By Ranjnish Mishra
What do poets do in their long weekend?
They take their family out, grocery shopping,
tend to plants, fill water in inverter-battery,
take car for service
(it drains from the monthly fund),
After getting broken bumper, rear, welded
(after having bumped into a pole in reverse, that very day),
play with their little daughters,
(there are two)
and make calls
to friends, uncles and brothers.
Poets are human too,
just like me; just like you.
After the sunset rises the poet.
As the day passes and the night falls,
and sleeps the world, the wife, and daughters.
Then the poet rises,
to do what makes Everyman a poet.
Rajnish Mishra is a poet, writer, translator and blogger born and brought up in Varanasi, India. He is the editor of PPP Ezine, a poetry ezine. He has a blog on poetry, poetics and aesthetic: pleasure: https:/poetrypoeticspleasure.wordpress.com. His poems have been published in several print and online publications..
By David Grant
An empty bag
Blown full by the wind
Like a fish fighting against the tide.
Earlier it lay face down on the road
Crusted up on its edges.
But the wind brings the dance
And the bag is aloft.
A battling fish.
Please come home soon.
Im sick of lying dead-flat.
And breathe air into
So we may swim.
David Grant is in his own words:
'A little startled. A little startling'