America by Daniel P. Barbare

Veronika Andrews

America

America, hear me, I can speak, hear me utter 

these words I am free

I can dream I may be humble

amongst

the masses

but I can shout out

loud for peace and freedom

even though I push a 

dustmop I can carry the heart with a single flame.

© Daniel P. Barbare

Daniel P. Barbare

Danny P. Barbare resides in Greenville, SC. He grew up with the same magnolia tree and pecan. He has been writing mostly in free verse for 43 years and has been published over 1500 times, give or take a few.

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There Once Was a Tree by Nancy Machlis Rechtman

 

Canshotz

There Once Was a Tree

Their story began

Soft and sweet like the velvet blossoms of the cherry tree

That stood in the middle of the park where they met

Kisses as luscious as ruby rivulets 

Were the exotic fruits that consumed them

As gasps of passion

And sighs of contentment

Filled the endless nights

That always promised more.

But soon the sudden chill of autumn

Overtook the air with unexpected force

And the carefree waters where their love had sailed

Uninhibited and free

Soon roiled with ennui

And a new search for the pieces 

Of the puzzle that had been theirs

Tore them apart

As the once-glittering pieces tumbled to the ground

Landing under the now barren branches

Of the tree in the park.

© Nancy Machlis Rechtman

Nancy Machlis Rechtman

Nancy Machlis Rechtman has poetry and stories published in Writing in a Woman’s Voice, miniMAG, Discretionary Love, Young Ravens, and other publications. Nancy has had poetry, essays, and plays published in various anthologies. She wrote lifestyle stories for a local newspaper and served as the copy editor for another paper.

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What I Kept, An Ode to Empathy by Chris Biscuiti

 

Gabby K - Monstera Production

An Ode to Empathy

I didn’t choose a word

by looking ahead.

I found it

by noticing

what stayed

when everything else

fell away.

It showed up

in hospital lights

and quiet kitchens,

in long afternoons

that asked too much,

in nights where writing

was the only place

my breath could land.

It wasn’t loud.

It didn’t trend.

It didn’t promise growth

or ease.

It asked me

to stay.

To listen

when I wanted answers.

To soften

when the world hardened.

To keep showing up

for a child who taught me

that presence

is its own language.

I wrote through the swings—

the days that lifted,

the days that bent me,

the days that did both

before noon.

I wrote to make room for her—

sweet, earned, earnest, Empathy—

for my family,

for myself,

for anyone reading

who needed proof

that care can coexist

with exhaustion,

that love doesn’t disappear

just because it’s heavy.

If there’s anything

worth marking,

it’s this:

I didn’t numb.

I didn’t rush past.

I didn’t turn away.

I stayed curious.

I stayed kind.

I stayed human

on the page.

And her quiet presence—

quixotic as it is—

is what carried me

through the year.

© Chris Biscuiti

Chris Biscuiti

Chris Biscuiti is a poet, caregiver, and Dad to his son Bray Bray. Chris' poem The Believer won the 2025 BREW Poetry Project Community Poem of the Year, and his poem The Hours was published in FLARE Magazine, Issue 4. Connect with Chris on Substack — https://chrisbwrites.substack.com 

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An Analysis of Peace by Dr. Priyanka Neogi

Alena Orehova

An Analysis of Peace

Your environment is cold.

There is cold in the mind,

As if a sweet breeze is blowing

In the mind.

A tide of happiness in the family,

overflowing happiness,

All-around control and balance.

Little by little,

Still cold.

A society without chaos.

Ease of use.

Unity in the flower of peace.

© Dr. Priyanka Neogi

Dr. Priyanka Neogi

Dr. Priyanka Neogi is from Pundibari, Coochbehar, India. She is an international poet, story writer, editor, motivational speaker, dancer, singer, and artist. She's a member of literacy organizations at the national and international levels. She is also the National Joint Secretary of the Rocket Ball Federation of India; UAP Miss India 2nd Runner-up 2022; Miss Pundibari 2025; Miss West Bengal 2025; a social worker; an International Representative of the Mother Teresa Foundation of India; and the National Director of Miss and Mister Peace India.

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Snow Haiku by Joshua St. Claire

ervin.fon Trichev

Snow Haiku

seven crows 

against an altostratus sky 

blue snow 

nightsnow 

I fall 

into deep time 

all morning to travel 

from the stream to the spruce 

snowshimmer

snow arriving at the disappearing mountain 

still 

blue 

the Appalachians in snow 

cyan hills 

the snowwind marks 

our distance  

…a dream of falling snow moon

blank sun 

a black vulture teeters 

over snowworld 

the snowshadow 

of a double-crowned spruce 

limpid sky 

second snow 

three white birds cutting 

across the white pines 

the weight 

of the blue hour’s descent 

snowlight  

© Joshua St. Claire

Joshua St. Claire

Joshua St. Claire is an accountant from a small town in Pennsylvania, working as a financial director for a nonprofit. His haiku and related poetry have been published broadly, including in Frogpond, Modern Haiku, The Heron’s Nest, and Mayfly.

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An Uncertain Season by Mitchel Montagna

Haberdoedas Photography

An Uncertain Season

A storm was pushing from the East.

She tried to soothe my fear.

The normal rap of living ceased.

A thundercloud drew near.

Of all the angels I have known,

she grasped the deepest pain.

Her kindness kissed me to the bone;

her cool eyes kept me sane. 

We crept out in the aftermath.

The sky shone still and blue.

The sunlight cut a golden path;

lush fields were glowing too.

We heard some voices rise and pray,

as we came near a town.

Wind kicked up as we turned their way.

A fog was bearing down. 

Most preachers still call out the blues. 

They know what grief is worth. 

She gave a life I dared not lose

till fury swept the earth.

© Mitchel Montagna

Mitchel Montagne

Mitchel Montagna has worked as a special education teacher, radio journalist, and corporate spokesman. He is married and lives on Florida's West Coast.

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Poetry by Jade Kleiner

 

KoolShooters

Waiting at Hyde Park Station

the loud absence of traffic clanking,

the subtle volume of cricket lust,

the train tracks fading into oblivion

and the bugs persisting beneath,

a deplatformed sandwich moldering

with its flock of devout ants,

moths praying to halogen suns

metered all the way down the platform,

and the cold bench merging with my tailbone,

this cardigan vastly insufficient for it all -

my Thunder arrives!

on the other side of the tracks

Unbinding

there was a snap and nothing was true,

the snow became water in snow in water,

I felt the gratitude that kills tomorrow,

the flakes lived forever in that instant.

I no longer needed to trust my eyes,

I was blessed to see.

© Jade Kleiner

Jade Kleiner

Jade Kleiner is a writer from New England. Among other places, her poetry can be found in Trampoline and manywor(I)ds, her haiku in Haikuniverse and Cold Moon Journal, and her fiction in Bright Flash Literary Review. She is transgender and has practiced in the Plum Village tradition since 2020. 

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