Kiss of the Morning Wind 

The timelessness of the horizon 
And the endless joy of becoming 
Part of humanity’s quiet overtures; 
Ringing in the quiet mornings 
Like bells in life’s carillon towers. 
All the depth of love and caring 
Steps forth on the balcony of life; 
Singing in the voice of ageless beauty 
Sending arias of love to far off stars; 
And walking among the lilies in gardens, 
Wild with nature’s indescribable beauty 
Caressing the souls of callous dreamers 
Who hum to the birds of first light. 
Awaken now, sweet youth of dawn 
Hold the day like a newborn child, 
Tenderly aware of its fragile beauty; 
Treasure every hour; every moment 
Life smiles on your ageless face; 
Savor the warmth of love’s sweetness 
When the morning wind kisses your lips. 


Beyond Now 

Night enfolds me like your arms in my dreams. 
Shadows whisper with the echoes of your voice
 Nearly asleep in heavens far from reaching; 
But waiting; waiting; searching the brightness 
Of distant stars singing past me in night’s stillness. 
Heaven is but a word – silent and deep, beautiful 
Beyond earthly hopes and cares, a place 
Of lovelight shining from your eyes, touching 
The core of life with the fingertips of desire 
To be with you in mists spanning time; 
Spanning thought; being bound to you 
In ways of the soul and the timelessness 
Of an ever-expanding completeness 
Of infinity’s ways to conquer time 
And be with you beyond this vale of now.

Annie Johnson is 84 years old. She is Shawnee Native American. She has published two, six hundred-page novels and six books of poetry. Annie has won several poetry awards from world poetry organizations including; World Union of Poets; she is a member of World Nations Writers Union; has received the World Institute for Peace award; the World Laureate of Literature from World Nations Writers Union and The William Shakespeare Poetry Award. She received a Certificate and Medal in recognition of the highest literature from International Literary Union for the year 2020, from Ayad Al Baldawi, President of the International Literary Union. She has three children, two grandchildren, and two sons-in-law. Annie played a flute in the Butler University Symphony. She still plays her flute.

Salute My Heroes

The blood of my heroes will never dry;
Their memory will never die.
The fallen shall stand again in me.
I will carry the ghost of tragedy.
The blood of my brethren is that of mine.
Their memory is my daily wine.
I raise my glass without dispute;
In those valor halls I do salute.
My brethren, My heroes; the life I owe.
The respect they deserve; The love I show.
A monument of honor lives in me.
Looking at my hands it's their blood I see.
I owe them more than I can give.
They will be remembered as long as I live.


Hey Santa 

Hey Santa, out there in your sleigh
Ho Ho Hoing all the way
Will you drop by?
Hey Santa, riding through the snow
With your list so you know; 
Will you drop by?
Hey Santa, don't forget me tonight,
Don't forget to turn off the light.
Hey Santa, out there all alone
With everyone safe at home;
Could you come by?
Hey Santa, with you finger on your nose
Waiting for young eyes to close;
Could you come by?
Hey Santa, would you bring peace to this house?
I promise to be still as a mouse.
But it is only a fantasy
The night was too dreary
He just couldn't see
Hearts were too weary
He couldn't help me
And the world filled with pain.
Hey Santa, out there in the sky
With that gleam in your eye;
Do you remember me?
Hey Santa, out there on your sleigh
Laughing all the way;
Do you remember me?
Hey Santa, don't tell me peace has gone away;
There has to be hope for a better day.

(Based on and inspired by Pink Floyd "Hey You")

From South-Western Michigan, Jerry Langdon lives in Germany since the early 90's. He is an artist and ooet. His works bathe in a darker side of emotion and fantasy. He has released five books of Poetry titled "Temperate Darkness an Behind the Twilight Veil", “Death and other cold things” “Rollercoaster Heart” and “Frosted Dreams” Jerry is also the editor and publisher of the literary magazine Raven Cage Zine poetry and prose. His poetic inspirations are derived from poets such as Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Frost and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. As well as from various rock bands. His apparently twisted mind, twists and intertwines fantasy with reality.

No Word for It

There’s a paradigm of friendship between females

named sisterhood,

there’s a paradigm of friendship between males

named brotherhood.

The paradigm of friendship (everything up

to but not including sex) between people

of opposite sexes is a siblinghood unnamed,

but let’s call X.

The shattered man may win sympathy

from an unaccountably friendly woman,

feel her reviving his cadaver piecemeal,

feel her magnetize selectively

the fragments of him no more posthumous –

which shards, recalling prior composition

commence re-congelation now anew,

undevastated and rejuvenated.

What present could be gentler or more tender,

what surprise could nullify such grief?

What sweeter gift than life might some girl render –

who may withhold frustrate desire’s relief?

Remember how she loved you as a human

who cannot be your lover as a woman,

return her love in kind with some acumen,

flirt up some other babe.  And watch your groomin’.

That Isis-girl who caused your resurrection

deserves your love to verge upon true X-hood:

all guys who have new life through her selection

experience enhancement of their sex-hood!

 COFFEEHOUSE TRANCE

Motto:  If the Pope is the poet of the Love God of Jealousy,

              the poet is the Pope of Desire

Sinking into trance of automatic writing,

nothing of the coffeehouse coming through

but nymph-visions passing or alighting,

the dazed transcriptionist receives the new

afflatus with confidence he’ll get it down

in efficient-est simplicity.

He sees two couples about the town

in the haven of youth’s felicity.

They start comparing parents’ love-lives:

one girl’s was riddled with infidelity,

jealous harangues tanked up in dives.

The other girl’s own folks’ terse civility

was all they could spare for one another

ever since the Mother’s found-out fling

a decade prior made just some other

platonic mockery of desire’s real thing.

Now one of the two guys being juggled by

those two girls had a Dad mostly gone

and a Mom who hooked a bit, the boy nearby

in the next room while the revels went on.

The second dude, friend of the girls’ other guy,

had parents who were ever deep in love,

met not each-other’s straying with some wry

possessive judgment, but forgave – above

all, each deferred t’other in own bod’s claims.

All four offspring, in their a-quatre menage

to remake human love, bent modest aims –

staring Venus’s decolletage….

Sinking into trance of automatic writing,

nothing of the coffeehouse coming through

but nymph-visions passing or alighting,

the dazed transcriptionist receives the new.

…

Primary Thunderclap

Whispered words

in a darkened world

shatter the glass icon

in your head

earthly ghosts

circulate around

nebulous neural activity

like a bout of all-day drinking

where jagged thoughts

slice into viscera

leaving distant dreams

overwhelmed by synthetic ideology.

That moment

at the bottom of the bottle of gin

when everything is like the precarious nature

of a well-chewed pen,

and I have

kaleidoscopic

images plaited

in my mind

and my head feels

like it’s so full of unopened mail

that it makes me wonder

if there really is

a place called

vertigo.

My Christmas Wish List

I look around the world and think

what my Christmas wish would be

I could not just think of one

So, I made a list of many

I wish I could see more of my family

because tomorrow will not come one day

I wish we all could love one another 

and show kindness in some way

I wish people could look beyond status

and know that money can’t buy love

I wish people would realize that we are all human

and made from the same God above

I wish time could slow down just for a while

Life is passing so fast

There is so much I still want to do 

that may help the future generations last

I wish I had a lot of money 

I now understand what it’s for

It’s to help others live a better life

And not to waste on buying me more

I wish I could stop persecution

because so many who are have become close friends

I wish hate could be wiped out of all of our lives

So all of their hearts could now mend

A thousand wishes would not be enough

to fix what is wrong today

‘Cuz wishes are not what make dreams come true

But through every prayer that we pray

***********

Christmas Wish

Christmas time is a wondrous time of Year

A time when Peace towards others rings clear

The smells of Cinnamon and clove in the air

While baking breads and cookies with friends to share

A time of reflection of life as it stands

To open our hearts to our fellow man

A time of giving of ones self to others

to friends, neighbors, sisters and brothers

To worship God and be thankful for life

Praying for peace on earth without hate and strife.

A time for hope for the coming New Year

A new journey to walk where the path is clear

To help one another in every way we can

and hold each other’s hands across borders and other lands.

So during this season let’s all do our best

To bring perfect peace from the east to the west.

**********************

Keep at Least One Moment

If hope and love abide in my heart

Thank you for helping me feel it

If I have helped you to feel love more deeply

Then I have accomplished what I was sent to do

And if we have made each other’s lives better

for knowing each other in this world…

Remember every good and wonderful thing

we have taught each other and keep at least

one moment that we can carry in our hearts for the 

rest of our lives of each other…  ©

Kristy Raines 

Kristy Ann Raines is an American poet and author born in Oakland California, In the United States of America.  

She is an accomplished International Poet and Writer.  Kristy has five books which will soon be published. 

One anthology with a prominent poet from India, Dr. Prasana Kumar Dalai called, “I Cross my Heart from East to West.”

She has also written two fantasy books entitled, “Rings, Things and Butterfly Wings” and “Princess and The Lion”, a collection of poems in English,” which she intends to use for a book written together with another very prominent Poet in Saudi Arabia, and which all proceeds will go to charity for children,  and also, a book of poems, stories and thoughts on her life called, “Her Very anomalous Life”.  

Kristy has received many literary awards for her unique style of writing. 

She also enjoys her work as an Activist and Humanitarian, for the Rohingya People in the refugee camps of Cox’s Bazar, whom she has come to love, and also tries to raise money for an Orphanage in India.  

Forever

They’ll never know

turning into

the dark alley

closing your eyes

all the houses with lights out

sleeping I suppose

I’ll whisper the future

and you decide if you want it

you’re so young

thinking I’m a genius

but hopefully less is more

a single touch lasting forever.

Whenever

Whenever

I touch you

you tingle

in my fingertips

you’re so ready

a sparkling pearl

soft button

opening

a world

unique

for the both of us.

Ever in Love

And we blend

into each other

color to color

a beginning

mix

unmatched unity

both sighing

at the same time.

         Nostalgia

I read something earlier
that said that nostalgia

was a good thing. It
was a sign you had
lived your life right.

Why would you look
to the past,  if it was
crap ?

But, what I have to ask
is
what if you look back
to the past, and it makes
you cringe ?

What if it was crap ?

Not, all of it, some parts
were amazing.

But, there’s a Hell of a lot
of crap back there. 

That can’t be good to

remember.