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October - November Editor's Choice

December 3, 2023

October/November, we offered a visual art/poetry challenge to our Facebook Group members with the option of choosing one of two images. Out of the twelve entries, seven remarkable poets were chosen, their senses in tune, painting vivid imagery with both their keen perceptions, creative perspectives , thoughts and words.


THE HAND'S LAMENT: A MOBILE MELODY In the palm of my hand, a portrait lies, A man alone, striding tracks of steel, Within my clasp, our memories harmonize, A tale of loss concealed beneath a digital seal. A secret dance of stolen words unfold, You walked away, distant as a ghost, Through the vibrant canvas, your absence molds, While my fingers traced the path you chose. Each touch a riddle, each swipe a plea, To bridge the gap that remains untamed, Yet in this handheld abyss, you break free, As pixels flicker, our love remains unclaimed. On handheld relic, a world apart, A screen's reflection of love's remorse, These train tracks symbolize my broken heart, As I clutch your fading presence, my life's discourse. But still, I cling to this device, afraid to release, Afraid to let the echoes of you dissolve away, For in this mobile realm, hope finds its peace, And this hand embraces the beauty of our yesterday.




- A TRAIN - As a child she could hear the sound Of the train, upon the railroad tracks From outside her bedroom window Resounding, amidst the floor cracks A warm, gentle breeze, within the air Sit, at her desk, stare, dream & write Imagine, a world, different than hers Diverse place seemingly out of sight Away from all the chaos, all the hurt Away from adversity, disdain & strife Where her heart, soul, could be free Where there existed, some other life Yet 'er soul was indeed, ever so torn Amidst family responsibility & heart She knew, that was expected, of her Knowin' not another way t' be 'r part Alas, remain'd encased 'n that room Loud voices, amid the winds, circlin' Heart heavier, brimming, with hope Dreams, of that life, o' encompassin'.




"UNTITLED" Whither thou art going o crown of creation? The path thou moves on, doth it lead to thy destination? Art thou coming out of the dark place or going inside? Art thou fed up with woeful life and going to commit suicide? If thou art ignorant of the path thou moves on, Then thy precious life thou art going to ruin. Thou art alone moving on the path, are others moving on the wrong one? Or art thou moving on wrong path, but thou feel it will lead to thy destination. First contemplate before moving forward, if thou art on the right track If not o crown of creation, then hurriedly return back.


Jammu Kashmir, India


JOURNEY OF LIFE Journey of life never comes back, my friend. Walking along one way traffic is life's trend Nor sorrow changes, nor the jeer and cheer bend Going alone in a lone path be our journey end. Never look back to the past life to extend Past is past, that will never return at ones end Let me befriend myself without anyone to fend As I will sleep beneath the grave alone, alone in the end. © PRASANNA BHATTA India


LIFE IS A JOURNEY If to walk alone, then I must for there's no pain, no strain in it Across the valley of death were fear may appear I shall fasten my belt of faith around my heart So it can shed a light for the path of my mind If no track lay ahead but a dead end, am confronted with May I gather the strength from deep within and face the challenge head on For there's no fear, no retreat, when the mind is focused on the goal If to pack my worries and leave them behind that I'd willingly do If to leave behind the painful past I'd surely do so for I need to move on Yesterday's pain will be tomorrow's gain for me.

© JAYNOBO JAYMES Papua New Guinea


HAIKU with my springual pen hueing purity and love faded ashy blooms




AUTUMNAL FALLS "As I go downward hill into the swarm of sakura blooming Flowers drizzled with snowflakes sprinkling Dainty dandelions, the petals are folding Awaiting patiently for winters fiddling Withered colors of leaves are invigorating Beautiful Violas grow in shing Golden hues of roses are flourishing The dance of autumn is seductively mesmerizing." The nib broke Leaving me ashes to end my letter

© SHEILA ANN Malaysia

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