Tag: solstice

Solstice Series: Winter Submissions Open

Solstice Series: Submit your winter entries of poetry, flash fiction, and mini essay for free.

almond blossom ballet…

Solstice Series Selection Summer 2018

almond blossom ballet choreographed by delicate spring breeze ©2018 by Roberta Beach Jacobson Roberta Beach Jacobson is an American writer who spent most of her life in Europe. She tried retiring, but it didn’t work.

Coyotes

Solstice Series Selection Summer 2018

The coyotes are crying tonight. From across the creek Their wild howls Rise in the trees, Drift over rooftops Through open windows. Not far from our lawns and driveways Lies an ancient world, Of drought, hunger, fire and flood. Of open range and primal…

A Tall One

Solstice Series Selection Summer 2018

Upon my deck, a vodka poured up tall, I gaze out over my domain of green: An acre verdant wrapped in grassy shawl And sunset rain to add a glassy sheen. King Arthur with his table round and fair, Bright pennants on his soaring…

Kill Zone

Solstice Series Selection Summer 2018

Deer are still staying on their respective sides of the former Iron Curtain a quarter of a century after the electrified barbwire border fencing was removed at the end of the Cold War. ~ EARTHWEEK, 5 March 2014 The spotted fawn does not come…

Someone Lived Here

Solstice Series Selection Summer 2018

Someone lived here once. Someone, long forgotten, subdued this ground, stacking stone and wood and straw in rectangular constructions — a dwelling-place, with stable or cowshed. Someone beat back the yearly incursion of brambles and saplings to keep a vegetable garden or a chicken…

Of & To British Butterflies

Solstice Series Selection Summer 2018

The warming and dry. Not only those sands, the dunes heaped and rounded, but here. Where the umbrella serves as cover or cane, to gesture and point, left in the stand by the door, its folds with beads found between. And not. For: days…

Longing

Solstice Series Selection Summer 2018

Today, the mirror stares at you. It stares at your lips, your red lips, your red red lips, your lips, red. Red like a cranberry. Red like the cardinal that perched on your windowsill yesterday, with the cocked head and clipped wing. He peered…

slowly rising…

Solstice Series Selection Summer 2018

slowly rising the winding timber staircase Abenaki Tower ©2018 by Tom Sacramona Tom Sacramona is a poet living in Plainville, Massachusetts, with experiences in both teaching and proposal writing. Sacramona is a member of the Boston Haiku Society and the Haiku Society of America.