the sieve and the sand

Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother’s poetry.

19 jun 8

by timsaslacker

water from a hose

hot before cool and passed

brother to brother—

the break worthwhile

 

untainted by man

like bottled water will be

and much much purer—

for guzzles earned

 

when I-25

reached one end to the other

my house to Grandpa’s—

places for play

right field

by rcribay

is a
lonely place
of exile.

Early birthday poem to my dad

by Tucker J. Collins

A celebration of life occurs once and only once in every year

For every single person who lives life fully and believing,

Paying attention to now and not saying the end is near.

Now is the time for me to say happy birthday from a son

who’ll keep believing that you’ll keep achieving

without fredo saws

by Roger Mugs

sometimes i get confused
between hobbits
chopping trees
and italian food

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