Andrew Senior 4 days ago Midweek Small Group Nine knocks on the door and now scattered round the room, seven seated, one kneeling and one stretched out. Civil. Polite. Self-conscious...
Foundling House Jun 23 Circuit Rider The radar pitch of the ice cream truck always rings disappointed—mawk eighth-note counterpoint rising, rising electric and sugar-songed,...
Jenna Badeker Jun 15 The Magnolia (or, Loveliness) Your wide leaves were your ruff Your plate-sized, milky blooms your crowning glory Your branches tall and far-reaching Years of work and...
Rebecca D. Martin May 18 Mockingbird She is no one’s favorite bird. Her call is awful; I used to think it was the crow’s. Now I know, but, Oh! When I hear that grating...
Bryan McKaig Apr 20 Turning a Metaphor into a Poem I don’t consider myself a poet. Occasionally a songwriter, but barely that. The occasion of this poem was the commissioning of a new church.
Andrew Senior Apr 5 A Poem for Bright Week In "The Passing Away World," I use images of light to point to the transient and the finite in the human experience; light that is man...
Anne Ownbey Mar 1 Along the Trail of Tears Chicasaw . . . Cherokee . . . Choctaw . . . Muskogee . . . Seminole . . . names echoing through history, remnants of once proud,...
Debbie Moody Jan 25 Awakening As the earth falls into a deep slumber, we sit in anticipation and stillness.
Foundling House Jan 12 Bus Stop Children Early, risen numbly, they surface from the fog in pearl bas-relief, quick to lock unswerving eyes with the harried (spent, work-bound...
