Wednesday, October 22, 2025

I’ll Climb Alone by Lynn White

 

Image | Charles Parker

Ill Climb Alone

 

Im strong enough now

to climb alone.

I wont allow

the creepers

and crawlers

and climbers

to hold me back,

to inch into me

like ivy covering a wall.

Ill climb alone.

Go straight up

the bleached white staircase 

shining through

the undergrowth

showing me the way

up and over.

Quickly now

before it encroaches,

before it overwhelms me.

Up and over.

I know I can do it.

Im strong enough now.

 

First published in With Painted Words, July 2018


© Lynn White


Lynn White

Lynn White lives in North Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, and places and people she has known or imagined. She has been nominated for Pushcarts, Best of the Net, and a Rhysling Award. https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com  and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/


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Tuesday, October 21, 2025

Manna from Above by Mary Bone

Image / Arnie Chou

Manna from Above

When we feed the holy,

It’s manna from heaven.

The word is taken into our hearts

during sermons,

from God’s word.

Prayers are answered and we give

God the glory.

© Mary Bone

Mary Bone

Mary Bone has been writing poetry and short stories since childhood. She has written two books of poetry. Some of her poetry has been published at Masticadores USA, Poetry Catalog, Literary Yard, Spillwords, The Oklahoma Today Magazine, Literary Revelations, Blaze Vox Spring 2025 Issue online, and other places.  Recent poetry is upcoming at eMerge Magazine and Zest of the Lemon.





Riding the Subway with My Son by Daniel Romo

 

Image / Cem Dolcan

Riding the Subway with My Son

For Devan


He said it took a year to learn the routes

and he often got lost because he 

fell asleep and woke up far from 

         his stop.


You don’t need to be a resident to 

know how life can speed by before realizing 

you were supposed to exit,

but it helps to understand Uptown and 

Downtown run in opposite directions and

        chess in Central Park is as strategic as

        window-shopping along the streets of 

                                                     SoHo.


How one knows where they’re supposed to be means 

learning when to remain seated and when to 

        get up and pay your way or 

        jump through the turnstiles, 

even if you don’t yet know your way around 

the boroughs or your

burgeoning self. 


I’m a first-time passenger and sit beside my son,

a twentysomething Brooklyn resident fluent in 

traversing the lines,

and we ride through tunnels 

that stretch below the earth—

a hazy maze of metal and movement, 

not unlike the lifetime relationship between

a parent and child,

and I navigate just how far 

we’ve come,

the distance we have yet to 

go.


© Daniel Romo


Daniel Romo

Daniel Romo is the author of American Manscape (Moon Tide Press 2026), Bum Knees and Grieving Sunsets (FlowerSong Press 2023), Moonlighting as an Avalanche (Tebot Bach 2021), and other books. His work can be found in The Los Angeles Review, MAYDAY, Yemassee, and elsewhere. He received an MFA from Queens University of Charlotte and lives, writes, and rides his bike in Long Beach, CA. More at danieljromo.com.




Monday, October 20, 2025

ANOTHER WAVELENGTH by Daniel P. Stokes

Image / Elina Sazonova

ANOTHER WAVELENGTH 


As if last week had not thrown up

enough reminders of mortality -

our old dog giving up the ghost,

a friend dispatched at forty -

the radio on my way from Cork

sombrely intoned a tale

of sudden death to have us brood

upon its final platitude,

"You never know when."


I snapped it off in schooled distaste.

Yet pondered:

the terror of not being -

the boggling prospect

of absolute absence

from a world I made significant -

I can face

with equanimity.

But not the terror of not being

with you.          

         

But the winter sunshine

through the windscreen

pierced my pith, swelled

and suddenly exploded, gushing

me with warmth, assuring,

though I can't spend

all Time with you,

my friend, my confidante, 

my sweet-souled lover,

I can spend with you

all the time I've got.


© Daniel P. Stokes



Daniel P. Stokes

Daniel P. Stokes has published poetry widely in literary magazines in Ireland, Britain, the U.S.A., Canada, and Asia, and has won several poetry prizes.  He has written three stage plays which have been professionally produced in Dublin, London, and at the Edinburgh Festival.


Sunday, October 19, 2025

Tricycles & Tractors by Sterling Warner

Image / Polesie Toys

Tricycles & Tractors

Below my house an old tractor red 

scooped the seashell driveway clean

graded level oceanic topsoil smooth

as a kitchen counter butcher’s block

preparing to host a 32-foot awning 

shelter for my boat, the Deborah Lynn 

the mermaid essence of my elder sister.


Stockpiling fishing gear, my mind’s eye

took flight hand and hand with Debbie

as we traveled back in time and settled

alongside my Grandfather’s garden—

a place he allowed her to destroy 

on her tricycle and me to plow down

with my own little red tractor.


We left ruts in the lawn and annihilated

his poppies, petunias, chrysanthemums, 

and lilies, treated us to Chicklets and Coca-cola®

then lit up a cigar, patted our young heads, 

plucked foliage from our vehicles’ wheels,

then planted new bulbs and cultivated flowers—

preparing for next week’s ritual gathering. 


We three lived in the present, seldom planning 

ahead; Mom’s teary confrontation hit 

sis and I like a seismic shift as we learned

our Grandpa’s massive coronary had occurred 

while whistling, writhing, and waxing Deb’s 

beloved tricycle, Ariel, plus my toy tractor, Red, 

waiting for our unpredictable mayhem to begin.


© Sterling Warner



Sterling Warner

Washington-based author, poet, and educator, Sterling Warner’s works have appeared in such magazines, journals, and anthologies as Verse-Virtual, Ekphrastic ReviewWarner’s poetry/fiction includes Rags and Feathers, Without Wheels, ShadowCat, EdgesMemento Mori, Serpent’s Tooth, Flytraps: Poems, Cracks of Light: Pandemic Poetry & FictionHalcyon Days: Collected Fibonacci, Abraxas: Poems, Gunilla’s Garden: Poems (2025), and Masques: Flash Fiction & Short Stories.  He currently writes, hosts “virtual” poetry/fiction readings, and enjoys fishing along the Hood Canal.




Saturday, October 18, 2025

Casting Shadows by Karen A. VandenBos


Image / Connor McManus


Casting Shadows


In the hours before dawn she walks

to the edge of the shoreline, puts on

her grandfather's old slicker and sets

off in his fishing boat for the cove of

trees where the dragonflies hover.

With her hat at an angle she stands

like a silhouette against the serene

lake and watches the fingers of the

sun poke holes in the clouds. Dark

pools of shadow reflect against the

morning mist and the loon casts its

echo across the span of the lake.

When she sees her own shadow and

the one seated in the boat behind her,

she knows her grandfather has come

back for the one that got away.


© Karen A. VandenBos



Karen A.VandenBos

Karen A. VandenBos was born on a warm July morning in Kalamazoo, MIA PhD course in shamanism taught her to travel between two worlds. A Best of the Net nominee, her writing has been published in Lothlorien Poetry JournalBlue Heron Review, Moss Pigletand others. 



Friday, October 17, 2025

The Beat Goes on by Carolyn S. Mahnke

 

Image / Krishna Kids Photography

The Beat Goes on

The beat was first heard

… as a whooshing sound,

in sympathy with that of mother… 

“Heartens” hopeful parents.


The Valentine…

Flushing skin, swelling 

lips and fill of sex…

Lacey heart-shaped love. 


Brave heart, 

Red badge of courage…

Symbol of daring nerve

despite our fear.


Red blood, blue blood?

Type and match transfusion

Is color-blind to skin

Or… political persuasion.


CPR or DNR?

At the end, confusion.

…Restart the rhythm?

Or pull the plug?


Check of “organ donor”,

includes my heart … available 

…if anyone would 

want a heart of 80 years.


Skip to the straight line

on the monitor…

After the spirit escapes 

with a last sigh.


Energy cannot be created or 

destroyed, but can be transferred,

“The 1st law of Newton.”

Spirit energy must survive.


Alive, outside my body, 

the beat goes on 

How or where? 

I care to be surprised.


© Carolyn S. Mahnke


 
Carolyn S. Mahnke

Carolyn S. Mahnke is a registered nurse and retired Certified Diabetes Care and Education Specialist, living in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She loves gardening, mothering, “grand mothering”, quilting, walking, swimming, and writing. She has written and published four poetry books: Howl at the Moon and Tell Outrageous TruthHowl from the Center of Being Howling from Senior Moments, and Second Story View. She enters her 80th decade with energy and enthusiasm, nourished and encouraged by friends and family, especially by Nadia Colburn’s online writing community.




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I’ll Climb Alone by Lynn White

  Image | Charles Parker I ’ ll Climb Alone   I ’ m strong enough now to climb alone. I won ’ t allow the creepers and crawlers and climbers...