+


    Anyone of sight with 
two directions of hearing 

Consider a friendly future 

 This is about the smiles 
    we share together 

     Get it straight 

     Know the
    Works and Hands 
   that have carried them 

   Enjoy the Good 

  Trust
  In Good Faith 

                                              ............



 by  John Edward Culp
      Wednesday 
     March 6, 2024
    

Death, My Confirmed Guest


Death, my confirmed  guest,
Very often I forget you
You must come to take me
To the land of infinity. 
I should have to adorn myself
With flowers of good deeds
To receive you freshly and happily.
But l have spent time in vain
For nothingness in the wrong track
I do not know when you will come
But it is constantly true that you must come
Everyone can break promise except you
You do not cheat with time
No one can stop you.

on this extra day
the hen leaps down & loses
one of her toenails

—

the first day of March
spaghetti marinara
& a banana

—

last week of winter
first time I've seen my nephew
in almost a year

—

bio/graf

J. D. Nelson’s poems have appeared in many publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of eleven print chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including *purgatorio* (wlovolw, 2024). Nelson’s first full-length collection is *in ghostly onehead* (Post-Asemic Press, 2022). Visit his website, MadVerse.com, for more information and links to his published work. His haiku blog is at JDNelson.net. Nelson lives in Boulder, Colorado, USA.

In the Summer..

In the summer, Munisa went to a 2-week camp. Her first week at camp was great. At the end of the 2nd week, she began to miss his mother and home. There were many students in the camp. The last day at the camp was planned to be spent in nature. Munisa did not want to go for a walk. She wanted to cry for some reason.

Sometimes he says Munisa has a heart, sometimes she says don’t go. When he didn’t know what to do, a beautiful girl of 7-8 years who came to rest like Munisa suddenly came to her.

––Hello, sister, she said and sat down on Munisa’s couch with her legs stretched out. Munisa did not want to talk to anyone. But for some reason, wanting to talk to her, she simply said:

–– Hi  
––Why are you upset? –– said the little girl, and a warm conversation began.
––Just
––Did you hear that we are going to have a picnic?
––Yes, you will go. what is your name
–– Gulinur. don’t you go for a walk?  
––…
––Please go, I’m scared myself.
––Oh, what about the others?
––  No, they are not like my mother. And you look like my mother. Your name is also Munisa.. My mother is also Munisa.
Munisa hugged Gulinur and

—You are a little angel,-she said.
Gulinur looked at Munisa and
—My mother is dead,-she said.
Munisa hugged Gulinur tightly. For some reason, she remembered her mother’s rosy face.
The next day, Munisa went for a walk holding Gulinur’s arm…

arriva il freddo:
la falena ha
trovato casa

the cold arrives —
the moth has
found a home



giorni di gelo:
tutti gli idioti
che temono la morte

days of frost —
all the idiots
that fear death



mane d'inverno:
un vecchio imbonitore
parla di Dio

winter morning —
an old huckster
talks about God



sciolto il ghiaccio
si forma un'ostinata
distesa d'auto

frost has melted
a stubborn layer
of cars forms 



l'unica cosa
che non possono togliermi:
pioggia d'inverno

the only thing
they can't take away from me —
winter rain



l'anno finisce:
nel fosso tra i rifiuti
il gatto morto

the year ends —
in the ditch amid the trash
the dead cat



Maurizio Brancaleoni is a writer and translator. 
His poems / haiku / short stories / pastiches have appeared in several journals and collections. 
He manages "Leisure Spot", a bilingual blog where he posts literary gems, reviews and translations.

Impact [white sound] reduction


‘’ ‘’ ‘’ ‘’ ‘’ ‘’ ‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

so
[far]
{{said}}

                                  haemoglobin


                                    !


o
n

t
h
e

                          NOD




>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<

off the department



*only embarkation is the noun



(and so I dream of a blank page)


//////////////////////////////////////////////
/////////////////////////////////////////////
////////////////////////////////////////////

yet
again

 
Indifference as the (bell) (hoop) (horn)


&

     a     n     s     w     e     r

…………………………………
.
.
.
.
.
  .
    .
      . this as much as turbulence


{not{much{as{this{anymore

{{!
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afternoon in the sun
afternoon--=====
after war on the run
after war--=====




and the square sits quietly
and thumbs
it’s nose


■





(thumbs its nose)  


Nathan Anderson is a poet from Mongarlowe, Australia. He is the author of numerous books and has had work appear widely both online and in print. You can find him at nathanandersonwriting.home.blog or on Twitter/X/Bluesky @NJApoetry.

Special Place

There's a special place in Hell, for me.
Its streets are built on misery
And paved with agony.
Now I've tried to live free of sin
But life was a game I could never win.
I tried to gain Heaven's love, but all in vain
For I was already struck by the Devil's bane; 
Forever my ball and chain.
I would find no retreat
For on the day I was born I met defeat.
He rejoiced as he knew a righteous soul; 
Sold for a simple lump of coal
Would forever pay the toll.
And he would not wait
Until I stood at his infernal gate.
He brought it to me in my crib
And would never loosen the grip.
So began the trip.
The curse placed upon my infant bed
Builds that special place when I'm dead.


From Southwestern Michigan, Jerry Langdon has lived in Germany since the early 90's. He is an Artist and Poet. His works bathe in a darker side of emotion and fantasy. He has released five books of poetry titled "Temperate Darkness" and "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.