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The poems on these pages will soon be added to an archive magazine. If your poems are included here, or on the Visual Poetry page, they will automatically be available in a magazine format. Keep watching this space for more updates. 





hollyhocks in rain

remember the scarlet sun

flower embers glow


little green men on stilts

play in the garden

fiddles unwinding 

coming and going

silent light clap shakes the sea

two ends of the day


fire rainbow

arches cloud to cloud


restless ocean

a coiled snake

pauses between waves



Ingrid Bruck, a nature poet and wildflower gardener, lives in Pennsylvania Amish country. Her short forms appear in Leaves of Ink, Halcyon Days, Unbroken Journal and Plum Tree Tavern. 

Two pieces from Patricia McGovern


Unblemished pages

Purity unyielding.

The book within, is buried deep.


Jewels shimmer in sunshine,

Distant diamonds,

Windows of the tower block.

Three from Louise Peters


Resting coracles

atop the water. Picture

the wonder below.


Morning page: watch me

gaze across brightening sky and

gather drifting dreams.



See how my heart glides

sliding under your stare to

a place you can't know.



Lilac scent fades

as summer rain stirs roses,

soft, sweet - mm, breathe deep.

A Spine Haiku Poem

                        Karen Barton


Public Library,

                                              Ali Smith

A Brief History of the Future,

                                              John Naughton

Lost in the Funhouse,

                                              John Barth


      Two more by Karen Barton


grey and yellow sky

heat haze thickens, clouds play drums,

lightening cleaves the air


A white cup, ringed, stained

Vermillion with beetroot.

My soup of the day


Karen Barton is an emerging poet and art historian living in a dilapidated quarryman's cottage in the heart of Wiltshire. In her previous existence she was a reporter for Salsa World Magazine and arts reviewer for local radio. Her work has been published a The Curly Mind, Quatrain Fish, I Am Not A Silent Poet amongst others. 

One by Jill Cooper


Talking hands

Waving swaying blathering

With a cathartic sway

Burning up the words

With just a flourish of the hand,

Embellishing the truth

Striking at the sky

To embellish an enormous lie

Like sheets flapping in the breeze,

Telling the tale while moving the air

With a fabulous fanfare

Fervently flailing,

Gesturing, gesticulating

Eventually resting sleeping

No more to be said



morning settles

spreads its arms

gathers the lake waters

into streaks of sunlight

you swim between

warm green and cool skin

blue, yellow eyed dragonflies


hang in the air


land on reeds

jutting from the edges

their wide eyes

stare at you

marble like

you follow their

wavering blueness

deep in the lake

into blacker water

you’re treading

to stay afloat

sends ripples

to the shore

the dragonfly buzzes

in circles

swoops through the haze

lake weed, waterlilies

deepening mud

at lake bottom


One morning


you catch me


with a sweet

hungry kiss

that swallows me

and you undo your hair 

your skin drizzles down

like a soft rain shower

the touch of your fingers

on my naked chest

your heartbeat


and the sun

bathes our bodies

fiery passion gushes

like a waterfall

after the spring melt


Jay S Zimmerman, is a visual artist and poet resides in Muncie, Indiana His work appears in Three Line Poetry, Flying Island, New Verse News and the Rats Ass Review.

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