By Allen Ginnett     I can feel them, Like they can feel me. All so beautiful, so sensitive. Glossy eyed, full of thoughts And ideas, that I, a man Would never think of. They are everything, We are not, And vice versa. To some they are vice, So very nice… I’m numb to your eyes, I cry. She’s beautiful. When she’s mean, she’s means And when she’s lean, she leans. She cares so much more Then I’ll ever know. She’s scared, I wonder… Will I ever grow? And to think, Like a clock… Another second, minute, hour, They all pass by. The closer you are, The more my mind…

by Natasha Webster ** The poem provided below is from my first (to be self-published) book, Finding Her Voice. ** Peace is… Quiet in the storm Hope in darkness Calm in the chaos Action in right timing Mindfulness in confusion Ease in difficulties Flow in the current Surrender in war Trust in uncertainty Love in anger Humility in adversity Connection in spirit Strength in weakness

by Jamaille Austin   Narrative Poetry I just had… An Elegy of Opportunity- Geological permafrost tundra- Dreamlike rapid eye movement slumber- Cognitive plateau summit of umbra- Post meridiem- Reality of psychoanalysis night scare… I am hunted by… An inescapable cardinal point aurora- Near Catastrophic Pneumonia- Anti-monetary note eudaimonia- Viridian ink portrait mirage of horror- Ante Meridiem- Currency maze conundrum of despair… Beware! A heroic extrovert of pilgrimage- Aspiring Carpe Diem behavior- Inspiring ambitious trade laborer- Oxymoron news advertisement courier- Displaying opportunities of mirage; Ebony and ivory camouflaged- Template transmogrified- Into an lighter inflamed masterpiece; Rest in Pieces… Faulty citywide press printed- Frivolous yet influential- Proletariat monumental- Educational riddled collage; Agggggh… Pity…

by Oceana Gamel-Howes Hands. They all serve the same function, they all have the same basic shape. Some are old, some are rough, some are small. Hands tell a story, and not just through their appearance. The things our hands do are an extension of our brains, our minds, our thoughts; the hub of activity that lives in our skull. That place is where we come from, and our hands are the most important tools we own to express ourselves. Your hands may not seem too different from mine based on appearance, but it’s not about that they look like, it’s about what they can do. Your hands. Yours hands…

by Roman Dial Trial and error Failure and terror The truth of the matter at hand. Death in a whisper Is so much to weather For the life of a Wife and her man.

By Paige Flack Once upon a time, a little girl with wild blonde hair looked over the bluffs on the coast of Cook Inlet The sun was setting and below the sweet hum of the blowing wind, a gentle chorus of birds sang a sweet song Nature was presenting its symphony with absolute perfect timing and poise How beautiful it was That was one of the many times the little girl would be captivated and left in awe of the unfathomable wonders of music Every song had a story and a deep meaning behind it Even the earth, singing praises to our Creator Music is its own language It speaks…