VICKI Joy Anderson, Randy Conway, and Pauly Hart. These are just some of the phenomenal poets whom you'll find here. The woman to launch a thousand ships, however, is none other than Pamela Glasgow. Her beautiful translations of Psalms from the Paleo-Hebrew is what...
As Dead As a Dodo Noel Joshua Hadley EVERYBODY knows that Charles Dickens famously employed the term to describe a Jacob Marley ghost sighting. Ebenezer Scrooge first observed Marley’s eyes, nose, and jaw fixed on the doorknob of his London...
Rowers Gliding Past Georgetown University on the Potomac in the Dim Light of Dawn Noel Joshua Hadley 12/9/25AFTER scribbling this poem’s title in a notebook I reclined in a swivel chair and chewed on my pencil feeling rather satisfied with myself. I...
Back Alley Dealers Noel Joshua Hadley 12/8/25 JUST the other day, President Barrack Obama and Senator Mitt Romney were two hands debating policy from a literal world stage rather than a Shakespearean one, and now this. How did that old Indian parable go again?...
Biblical Cosmology Edgar D. Trollip Do we live on a ball? Or is my head just spinning? Spinning with spells cast from school Toddlers eye telly-Lies, masonic actornauts grinning. Yahuah told us the truth Read Bereshit - in the beginning. Sweet teachers...
MY HAND IS TO THE PLOUGH Vicki Joy Anderson My hand is to the plough no turning back. Though I know not how to keep on going-- planting, tilling, reaping, sowing-- my hand is to the plough, no turning back. My face is set like flint ...
THE ANCIENT WAR Randy Conway This is the story of an ancient war. It began somewhere in eternity long before Adam or Eve walked across Eden’s floor In another dimension an unearthly shore It is a time and place we cannot comprehend, with...
Psalm 151 A Halala’uYAH of Da’ud I existed insignificant among my brothers, And youngest among my father’s sons. And—present, ready—I became a shepherd For him, And a ruler over his goats. My hand fashioned a pipe, And my fingers a kinnor,...
An Irish poemThen, as she plucked her son from herbreast for the executioner, one of thewomen said: ‘Why do you tear from me my darling son,The fruit of my womb?It was I who bore him, he drank my breast.My womb carried him about,...