Tuesday, June 9, 2026

REVEALING By Danica Milić

Photo Art © Carl Scharwath


REVEALING

How can I not thank
Life for having you now?
How can I not think of you
if you are the owner of my mind?
How can I forgive time for not
allowing me to discover you before?
How can I not understand that
the past is the same present?
How could I know that you were hiding
behind a star and this universe
had not revealed your shadow yet?

Blue universe where I shine
because you give me your light,
deep universe as deep as your love...
How can I not reveal myself to you,
if you are me and I am you?
With your love you do magic
from nothing and nothing
becomes everything
in your presence!

© Danica Cvieta Milić


Danica Cvieta Milić

Danica Cvieta Milić is a Dutch-Peruvian poet born in Lima, Peru, to a Croatian family. She has lived and worked in various countries. Her experiences have shaped her perspective and inspired her writing, which she crafts in English and Spanish.
A bilingual poet, Danica has been recognized for her cultural work, receiving the World Prize for Cultural Excellence from the Hispanic World Union of Writers (UHE) in 2016 and 2017. 
At the core of her work is the belief that "understanding how passion transmits emotion to the senses is related to the constant flow of universal energy that is part of life." Her poetry and writings aim to capture the essence of the senses, inviting readers on a journey through the magical world of literature.
She is currently working on her first poetry book.


Carl Scharwath

Carl Scharwath has appeared in 175+ journals worldwide, selecting his writing or art for publication. Carl has published four books of poetry and photography. He was nominated for four Best of the Net Awards (2022-25) and two different 2023 Pushcart Nominations for poetry and a short story.



Monday, June 8, 2026

What No Longer Works? by Amrita Skye Blaine

 

Eva Bronzini


What No Longer Works? 

Why keep it? Send

It’s on its way

that thought, trinket

white elephant


Especially thoughts

Mean-spirited,

chuck it. Smoother,

softer ones will come

If they don’t, ditch

those, too.

No space for rude,

unfriendly,

that bucket’s filled

overflowing

flooding

© 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.  


Sunday, June 7, 2026

You think you live alone by Michael Braswell

 

RDNE Stock project

You think you live alone

You think you live alone

But you don’t

You live in one house

with many rooms

Open the door

Walk outside

See who lives next door

© Michael Braswell




Michael Braswell


Michael Braswell has published books on ethics, justice issues, and the spiritual journey, as well as four short story collections. His poems and stories have appeared in several publications, including ForeshadowMobius, and Literary Heist. His most recent books are When Jesus Came to the Cracker Barrel (2024) and Gracious Plenty (2025).


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Saturday, June 6, 2026

First Night by Laura Rodley

 

Cup of Couple


First Night

Oxygen whistling, pumping moist air
to a cup clasped over my husband’s mouth,
monitors beeping, flashing his vital signs,
an IV taped to his wrist slowly pumping saline
into his veins, in a private room on
the critical cardiac care unit,
one nurse to every two patients.
Just this noon, surgeons inserted
a stent to open his blocked
left descending artery, a heart attack
often referred to as a widow-maker.
It’s two in the morning, and I’m holding
an emesis basin below his mouth
as he retches. The night nurse, Nancy,
enters, says, “The doctor left an order
for an anti-emetic, but let’s see
how he does. His body is adjusting
to the medicine, and the after-
affects of anesthesia.” She goes out,
returns with a heated half-blanket
that she lays down over him,
covering his waist to feet.
“He’ll love that,” I say. I must have sighed
because she offers, “I can get you one.”
“Really? Yes, please.” She returns
with a heated blanket, wraps it around
my shoulders, sets the blanket in place
as she squeezes my shoulders from behind
as my hands are full, holding the basin.
“Thank you,” I say, “All better now.”
She leaves to attend to her other patient.

© Laura Rodley



Laura Rodley



You See the Familiar Dead by Yongbo Ma

cottonbro studio

You See the Familiar Dead

You see a familiar dead man

on the crowded subway, dressed in red,

sitting heavily, leaning forward slightly,

as if apologetic for crowding into the next seat.

You catch sight of him through tangled limbs,

your eyes meet, then drift apart,

as if strangers catching each other’s gaze.

You watch him bow his head in thought at times,

wearing a habitual weariness,

you wonder where he is bound for.

This subway heads toward eternal rest,

or a deeper river,

the carriage flickers dim and bright,

hissing with the sound of leaking air.

You know it is him,

you know he is in disguise,

look, he steals a glance at you again,

then quickly turns his eyes away,

pretending he has not recognized you at all.

© Yongbo Ma

Yongbo Ma

Ma Yongbo (Ma, Yongbo) is a Ph.D., representative of Chinese avant-garde poetry, and a leading scholar in Anglo-American poetry. He has published over 80 original works and translations since 1986, including 6 poetry collections. He focuses on translating and teaching Anglo-American poetry and prose, including the works of Dickinson, Whitman, Stevens, Pound, Williams, and Ashbery. He recently published a complete translation of Moby Dick, which sold over half a million copies. He teaches at Nanjing University of Science and Technology.



Friday, June 5, 2026

Two Sides of a Glass by Kushal Poddar

Alexey Demidov


Two Sides of a Glass

The glass partition runs cold
on one side, and the sun and sweat
on the other. The pet shop cat
lifts its lucky paw at me and waves.
I have one more mile to dredge.

Right now my destination and
the person I'll meet are one.
One hawker of bubbles blows emptiness.
The cat almost waves at him, stops
and licks its paw. I have one more

sleep to stay awake through, walk past.
The blur runs the hum of the AC
on one side and the roadway racket
on the other. I sit on the shop's steps.
Right now one hand labours to push me up
and one presses down my knee.

© Kushal Poddar



Kushal Poddar


Kushal Poddar has authored ten books, the latest being A White Can For The Blind Lane, and his works have been translated into twelve languages. He is a co-editor for Outlook Magazine and the editor of Words SurfacingHe does illustrations and sketches for various magazines.


Thursday, June 4, 2026

A Grandmother’s Three-Step Rhubarb Pie Recipe by Michael Brockley

 

Valeria Boltneva


A Grandmother’s Three-Step Rhubarb Pie Recipe

  1. Roll the pie crust and place it in a pie plate. 
  2. Who walks beside you in your most curious dreams? 
  3. What city from the archives of history would you like to visit next summer? 
  4. Which token did you choose when you played Monopoly?
  5. If you could create a national holiday, what or who would you celebrate? 
  6. Mix into the pan two tablespoons of tapioca, one cup of sugar, and three cups of rhubarb picked fresh from your grandmother’s garden
  7. What songs did you wear out on your first record player?
  8. How many times do you let your phone ring before you answer it?
  9. What sort of pet would you adopt if you were a private eye?
  10. What kind of flower would you name after your grandmother? 
  11. Bake the ingredients at 375 degrees for 45 minutes.

© Michael Brockley



Michael Brockley


Michael Brockley is a retired school psychologist who lives in Muncie, Indiana. His prose poems have appeared in The Prose PoemDoublespeak Magand Keeping the Flame Alive. In addition, Brockley's prose poems are forthcoming in Bay to Ocean JournalUnlikely Stories Mark VI, and Stormwash: Environmental Poems, Volume II.



Wednesday, June 3, 2026

FEED THE HOLY: UPDATE

 


FEED THE HOLY: UPDATE

In November 2024, I founded FEED THE HOLY, a literary journal on Blogspot.

I want to provide a place for poets and writers to explore their sacred human journey during fraught times. 

Contributors share their love of nature and other things that bring them joy. They write of how they nurture community and spread love and kindness. They also explore tough topics, such as recovering from illness and loss, and they share their grief and sorrow. All of their posts offer healing.

I am elated. As of this date, FEED THE HOLY has almost 200 contributors, 557 posts, and 224,443 views. But numbers do not matter as much as what is in the hearts of contributors and readers who comment and share posts.

As you read this post, note the format of the journal. The contributors' posts are in the central column. Unfortunately, the template does not offer a LIKE button 😩. But you can comment on posts and share them.

The right sidebar features popular posts, including the Submission Guidelines and the Submission Call. It's essential to read both before submitting. 

You can learn about FEED THE HOLY's awesome family of contributors. [On the left sidebar, you can view the labels (or themes) that contributors have written about, along with their names.]

Also, take a look at the popular posts listed in the right sidebar.  

You can also see the journal's total views, thanks to its outstanding submissions! 

In the right sidebar, you'll also find a list of links to my books and other goodies, as well as a place to translate a post. 

Support the Contributors

I hope that you read the journal and/or submit! Don't forget to comment and respond to comments. Contributors, please share your good news on your social media and with family and friends. Help our community grow.


FOLLOW FEED THE HOLY

I will be thrilled if you follow FEED THE HOLY. On the right sidebar, scroll down to the section labeled "Get New Posts by Email." It's free to sign up, and you will receive a daily update from FOLLOW.IT, which manages the subscriber list.

Or click here: Follow Feed the Holy


Support My Volunteer Work

If you'd like to support my volunteer work, please click on Buy Me a Coffee.  It will help cover the annual cost of FOLLOW.IT. Thank you so much! 

Track your submissions on Duotrope



Spontaneity: Chasing Crazy by Sterling Warner

Jair Hernandez


Spontaneity: Chasing Crazy


Dancing the tango down Main Street

grabbing a complete stranger’s hands

leading partners chest-to-chest, alternating

upper thigh & hips proactively, like a sailor

on leave, steppin’ out, swaying like Dean Martin

taking small steps, three sheets to the wind.


Skipping smooth, flat stones across shallow koi ponds,

ripples roll like miniature arching waves

crashing into rooted water plants along the shoreline; 

sitting for hours at railway junctions watching trains

waiting for the streamlined Denver Zephyr, observing only

two-level louvered stock cars transporting pigs & cattle.


Gamboling through downpours without an umbrella,

kicking colorful oil rings resting on puddles,

ducking inside an all-night FM radio station

at the edge of town, announcing call letters before

introducing an uninterrupted hour of Pink Floyd classics

returning to deserted sidewalks, owning them till dawn.


(first appeared in Uppagus in December 2020)




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.



Featured Post

REVEALING By Danica Milić

Photo Art © Carl Scharwath REVEALING How can I not thank Life for having you now? How can I not think of you if you are the owner of my mind...