Wednesday, March 18, 2026

Homewards Bound by Supatra Sen

 

Andreea Ch

Homewards Bound…

When paths diverge 

Dust gathers

And forevers become fleeting

When passion turns to mere duty

Time to return soulwards

My very own

Home…

The old old home

Housing my multiple versions

The innocence of childhood

Impulse of teenage

Solitude of later years…

The quaint balcony

The room on the roof

The solitary armchair

The scent of old books

The gentle echoing greens

With the large window 

Through which the moon peeps 

Creating magic each night

Wait with quiet patience

For the traveller to return 

The old home stretches its lonely arms

To greet the weary 

The wise old trees

Bend to shelter 

The cloud comes peeping 

Through the lonesome window

While the many versions meet and mingle

To commence the journey

Homewards

Inwards 

Soulwards…

© Supatra Sen

Supatra Sen, Ph.D.
Supatra Sen, Ph.D., alumnus of Presidency College and Ph.D. University of Calcutta is an Associate Professor with 125 academic publications in Botany and Environment. She is the founder and Chief Editor of an ISSN peer-reviewed multi-disciplinary journal ‘Harvest’. She has two poetry anthologies, ‘My Autumn Sonata’ and ‘Sojourns in Autumn’.



Tuesday, March 17, 2026

Love is religion by Mykyta Ryzhykh

 

Ayberk Mirza

Love is religion

Love is religion

Every time I drown in you I forget that I can’t swim

Every time I forget that the shore does not exist

Every time I use the right to remember and try to forget

The heart is leather satisfaction

Teach me to steal money not only from talent but also from the body

Teach me how to kiss people I don’t like

Teach me the night because the day is long over

Insatiable bodies fuck in all cracks

I no longer have a body

The body no longer has me

Love is walls without a ceiling in a homeless house

Originally published on Orbis 


© Mykyta Ryzhykh

Mykyta Ryzhykh

Mykyta Ryzhykh, an author from Ukraine, now lives in Tromsø, Norway. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2023 and 2024. He’s published in many literary magazines іn Ukrainian and English: Tipton Poetry JournalStone Poetry JournalNeologism Poetry JournalShot Glass JournalQLRSThe CrankChronogramThe AntonymMonterey Poetry ReviewFive Fleas Itchy Poetry, and many others.

Monday, March 16, 2026

Blackberry Heart by Don Brandis

 

Skyler Ewing


Blackberry Heart

We humans are more likely to feel proud

of ‘our’ evolving consciousness

than of our foot-dragging, backward-looking

blackberry heart.  Bittersweet, both at once

though the mix varies and often one predominates

and we won’t see its sweetness, its bitterness

for the woodfire glow of the one or the steely eye of the other.

Am I not the same person you loved last week?

Sadly not.  Now I’m an incarnated irritant

disgustingly unwelcome. The flow we are deceives us

when considered static; even the Gulf Stream shifts, 

the climate changes.  Didn’t you notice my wandering eye,

gambling habit, moodiness, barely controlled diabetes?

Sometimes my twin brother visits and we switch places.

He’s a caramel fudge sundae, a seedless watermelon

just short of overripe, a winning lottery ticket,

an endless innovative lead guitar riff.

We have the same heart everyone does.  Even you,

though we tend to see just one side of it at a time

and can’t sustain either.  Otherwise, we’d all be saints

or demons, not mere humans.

© Don Brandis


Don Brandis


Don Brandis lives quietly outside Seattle, reading and writing poems when they show up.  He has a degree in philosophy and a long fascination with Zen.  Some of his poems have appeared in Amethyst ReviewBlack Moon MagazineBlue UnicornLast Leaves, and elsewhere.  A book of his poems, called Paper Birds (Unsolicited Press, 2021), is available.  He hasn’t read your poems either, unless he did so without knowing they were yours.  




Sunday, March 15, 2026

Fog Lands by Arvilla Fee

Alban Mehmeti


Fog Lands

before the morning sun crests the hill,

the valley lies shrouded in frosty fog,

an ancient land filled with the wonder

of changing leaves, deer nuzzling the

last summer clover. And it’s here in this

ethereal place that I silently sit on a log

inhaling the damp, crisp air, listening

to melodic birdsong, feeling as if I am

grafted from my grandpa’s bones, his hips,

his arms, his legs, his never-bending spine—

tending the same fields, staring at the same

tender green shoots of crops in the spring,

gathering up stalks of corn come autumn.

I smoke my pipe and wonder how long 

It takes spiders to build their complex webs

and if they use the morning dew to make

their tea. Filled with neither sorrow nor regret,

I stretch my legs and stand just as the first

shards of amber light split the fog in two.

© Arvilla Fee


Arvilla Fee

Arvilla Fee, from Dayton, Ohio, has been published in numerous presses, and her poetry books, The Human SideThis is Life, and Mosaic: A Million Little Pieces are available on AmazonArvilla’s life advice: Never travel without snacks. To learn more, visit her website and her new magazine: https://soulpoetry7.com/

Saturday, March 14, 2026

Retrospect by Yongbo Ma

 

cottonbro studio

Retrospect  

I seem to wake from a thousand dreams,  

each one containing a real me, a real story, 

all converging like a sudden snowfall 

rising from the plain’s farthest edge,  

slipping from unseen, vast robes,  

whirling and whispering around me,

rising and falling, eager to tell me of those

dreamt events which fade with my waking.  

The woman who crowned my forehead with a kiss, 

I can't tell if she is my mother or my lover

I seem a red dove clutching poppies, plunging into

her embrace, or maybe I am the only cracked red

pomegranate that she can bring back from the light

to the netherworld, or the faint shadow on

her blue velvet gown when she was lost in thought.

These real stories seem to have nothing to do with me,  

they are but phantoms, beseeching me to summon them

into vision like sunlight imprinting on soft wax,  

this makes me lonely, I have spent many lives 

for many people, for many unfamiliar selves of mine

I learned languages not to speak to anyone,  

but to turn fiction into reality, reality into fiction,  

life is a dream, and that is not terrifying,

what is truly terrifying is that it is real.  

I ask myself: do you believe you do not exist?  

the answer comes from the shadows circling me—  

“your existence is only because you will cease to exist.”  

They answer as they recede, darting and peering

through endless colonnades, shifting doors,  

laughing and weaving in and out, for a long time, 

counting their winnings from the game.  

These are the shattered fragments from the colossus

that entombed me, they are at once roses and poppies,  

encircling a grand lily like a whirlwind’s amphitheater

or a more poignant image: a child sleeping on the

rooftop, awakened by the first drop of rain from the stars,  

rubbing his eyelids, trembling from the fiery dream.


© Yongbo Ma


Yongbo Ma

Ma Yongbo was born in 1964, holds a Ph.D., is a representative of Chinese avant-garde poetry, and is a leading scholar in Anglo-American poetry. He is the founder of polyphonic writing and objectified poetics. He is also the first translator to introduce British and American postmodern poetry into Chinese.


He has published over eighty original works and translations since 1986 included 9 poetry collections. He focused on translating and teaching Anglo-American poetry and prose, including the work of Dickinson, Whitman, Stevens, Pound, Amy Lowell, Williams, and Ashbery. He published a complete translation of Moby Dick, which has sold over 600,000 copies. The Collected Poems of Ma Yongbo (four volumes, Eastern Publishing Centre, 2024), comprising 1178 poems, celebrates 40 years of writing poetry.




Friday, March 13, 2026

covert by Amrita Skye Blaine

Monstera Production
covert  
not only sly or secret—

protected, interior

place of solace

around the cloister’s 

center

free of life’s

pressing concerns


in this refuge

a full breath

flies

walks apace

and breathes some more

© Amrita Skye Blaine

Amrita Skye Blaine

Amrita Skye Blaine develops themes of aging, disability, and awakening. She received a PocketMFA in poetry in 2024. She has published a memoir and a three-novel trilogy, and her work has appeared in fourteen poetry anthologies and numerous literary magazines. Two poetry collections, every riven thing and strange grace, were released in Spring 2025.  


Thursday, March 12, 2026

Surrounded by the Sacred by Selma Martin

 

Atlantic Ambience

Surrounded by The Sacred

Like a thin slice of morning sunshine
like a lapse of empty space in the void
I am surrounded by what is sacred
in the territory I know as home

here, life finds its soul's unfolding
here, life purls and mends to noble hours
and embroiders me with its currents
oh, instant of mellow fruitfulness

the winnowing wind soft-lifts my hair
entranced I ooze hour after hour
here, beauty emerges and moves
away the pall that conceals it

until my nebula yarn joins with yours
and the world broods with the warmth
of a friendship hemmed and winged
in God's grand magnificence.

©️ Selma Martin

Selma Martin

Selma Martin is a retired English teacher with 20 years of experience teaching ESL to children. She believes in people’s goodness and in finding balance in simple living. She lives in Japan with her husband of 35 years. In 2018, Selma participated in a networking course that culminated in a final lesson to publish a story on Amazon. She completed the course and self-published her short story, "Wanted: Husband/Handyman," in 2019. Later, collaborating with peers from that course, she published "Wanted: Husband/Handyman" in "Once Upon A Story: A Short Fiction Anthology." Selma has published stories on Medium for many years, in MasticadoresUSAThe Poetorium at StarlightShort Fiction BreakLit eZine, and Spillwords. In July 2023, she published her debut poetry collection, In the Shadow of Rainbows (Experiments in Fiction). You can find Selma as selmawrites on Instagram and Twitter, and on her website, selmamartin.com.

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Homewards Bound by Supatra Sen

  Andreea Ch Homewards Bound… When paths diverge  Dust gathers And forevers become fleeting When passion turns to mere duty Time to return s...