March into the Future

March into the Future
She left empty handed
No suitcase
No checkbook
No regrets
She left behind a lifetime of suffering
and opened herself up to a new world
No more bloody altercations
No more bruises that reached down
deeper than their physical pain
Now if she could put the past far
enough behind as well
She feared the memories would haunt her
but she persisted
she needed to persist
despite the old ghosts that clung on so tight
Her first breath of fresh air in more years
then she could recall
Thunder rumbled off in the distance
as she pulled her shoulders back
stood tall and marched into the future
© Ann Christine Tabaka - Delaware, United States
Ann Christine Tabaka is a nominee for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry.
She placed Third in Vita Brevis Best Poem Contest January 2018.  She was selected as Poet of the Month for January 2018 and interviewed by Kingdoms in the Wild. She lives in Delaware, USA.  She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her most recent credits are Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, Oddball Magazine, The Paragon Journal, The Literary Hatchet, The Stray Branch, Trigger Fish Critical Review, Foliate Oak Review, Bindweed Magazine, The Metaworker, Raven, RavensPerch, Anapest Journal, Mused, Apricity Magazine, The Write Launch, The Stray Branch, Scryptic Magazine, Ann Arbor Review, The McKinley Review.
*(a complete list of publications is available upon request)


Immortal I



not immortal

am I, not me.

I live, I know,

in the end to die. 

I’ve heard it said

gods wept and bled,

Likeus they lived,

and loved and died.

I bleed and weep

and live and die,

Yet I’m no god.

Not good, am I?


I’m tired, not dead,

Not I, not yet,

Of feeling like one,

Not being a god. 


© Rajnish Mishra, Varanasi - India


Rajnish Mishra is a poet, blogger, writer from Varanasi, India. He publishes PPP Ezine.


Heaven is My Horse Fly

Heaven is My Horse Fly 


A common horse fly

peripatetic traveler

vacationing in my world

into my bathroom,

(ride me cowboy, fly)

it’s summer time-

lands on my toilet seat

pit stops at Nikki’s Bar & Grill,

kitty litter box, refuels.

Thirteen round trips

buzzing my skin and skull-

he calls them “short runs.”

Steady pilot, good mileage,

frequent flier credits.

I swat his war journey,

splat, downed, then, an abrupt end.


 © Michael Lee Johnson, Itasca, Illinois - United States

Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era and is a dual citizen of the United States and Canada. Today he is a poet, freelance writer, amateur photographer, and small business owner in Itasca, Illinois.  Mr. Johnson published in more than 1012 publications, his poems have appeared in 35 countries, he edits, publishes 10 different poetry sites.  Michael Lee Johnson, Itasca, IL, nominated for 2 Pushcart Prize awards for poetry 2015/1 Best of the Net 2016/and 2 Best of the Net 2017.  


Sonnet #101 Oh What the Hell

Oh What the Hell


Gracefully inept at life’s perfection

gleefully disorganized and simple

and who put the milk in the top freezer?

Sometimes I think that gremlins reside here

glowing and rising with the autumn sun

think I forgot to buy the half & half

good thing my favorite color is black,

since the toaster forgot to pop again

ribbon-like clouds adrift off to the east.

chickadees return to the empty feeder

soft rain arrives, my umbrella misplaced.

I have five but cannot find even one.

adapt to life with its imperfections,

oh what the hell, I might as well just smile.


© Ken Allan Dronsfield - Seminole, United States

first published in FORTH Magazine, November 2017
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran and poet. He is a three time nominee for the Pushcart Prize and twice nominated for the Best of the Net.  His poems have been published world-wide throughout North and South America, Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa. Ken's work can be found in The Burningword Journal, Belle Reve Journal, Blue Heron, The Stray Branch, Now/Then Manchester Magazine UK,  Scarlet Leaf Review, EMBOSS Magazine, and many more. Ken loves life!



Into An Unending Now

Into An Unending Now


While gazing at the water

absorbed in my own thoughts,

a voice calls my name, clear

and lovely as a thousand chimes

each caressed by a gentle breeze,

a whisper reaching a crescendo.


My eyes turn to the green field’s

edge, where begins the grove,

Her smile like sunlight, she

calls again. Her eyes dancing

and shining upon my approach.


Everything once lost restored,

every care converted into joy.

In our embrace every moment

past, every moment to come

melts into an unending now.


© 2016 Arthur Turfa, Batesburg U.S.A.


This poem will appear in Saluda Reflections, coming in June 2018 from Finishing Line Press.



Arthur Turfa lives in South Carolina, but his poetry reflects the many places where he has lived or traveled.  His next book, Saluda Reflections, comes out from Finishing Line Press in June 2018. He has two other books of published poetry.





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