Prairie Poet | Duane Herrmann

I sing
of open spaces
vasty sky,
trees,
and the wind,
constant wind
over rolling prairie,
with creeks:
my home.


Duane L Herrmann was surprised to find himself in 1951 on a prairie farm.  Still trying to make sense of that, he’s grown fond of grass waving under wind, trees, and moonlight.  He survived a traumatic, abusive childhood embellished with dyslexia, ADHD (both unknown at the time), cyclothymia, now, PTSD.

He Meets Her at the Bridge of Fallen Flowers | Sunra Rainz

Let’s talk about cosmology, he said.
What about it? she asked.
I want to know how you stole my soul, he replied.
I steal into everyone’s soul, she said matter-of-factly, to which
he sighed, and a small blizzard formed and fell somewhere above the Alps.
Not so soon, she said, calm now.  It’s still my time –
then shook her hair and a whirlwind of flaming umber
flew across the forests of the southern hemisphere.
You give me goosebumps, she smiled, and with fingers of sun
stroked his cold face, and his ice block heart almost melted.


Sunra Rainz is a Pakistani-born British poet and writer based in Birmingham, UK.  She has been writing for years and has had work published in Red Ink, Visual Verse anthology and work forthcoming in Free Verse Revolution.

Reflection on trees | Phillip Knight Scott

What hope grows in the throats

of reflected trees, wondrous wooded dreams

pooled together like a scarf spooled

down the back of a child,

not worried where it may wind up?

.

What are reflections if not homages

to something larger, perhaps a portal

for Autumn winds to escort colorful leaves

like thread, drawing a home

wherever they may wind up?


Phillip Knight Scott is a native of Durham, North Carolina, where he lives with his wife and son. He has published one book of poetry, Paint the Living, Plant the Dead, and one novel, The Alien in the Backseat, which can be found along with new poems on his website, phillipknightscott.com.

November World | Duane Herrmann

Gray November sky,
trees are bare again
and the wind chills,
soon, I will be older.
Trees are full of birds,
going one direction:
fleeing south
ahead of cold and freezing;
long waiting is ahead.


Duane L Herrmann was surprised to find himself in 1951 on a prairie farm.  Still trying to make sense of that, he’s grown fond of grass waving under wind, trees, and moonlight.  He survived a traumatic, abusive childhood embellished with dyslexia, ADHD (both unknown at the time), cyclothymia, now, PTSD.

Dear Autumn | Yuu Ikeda

What wraps me calmly

is only you.

.

Even in scorching darkness,

your eyes become a lantern,

your breeze caresses my cheeks,

and your colors plant a hope

in my empty space.


Yuu Ikeda is a Japan based poet.
She writes poetry on her website.
Her published poems are
“On the Bed” in <Nymphs>,
“Pressure” in <Selcouth Station Press>,
“The Mirror That I Broke” in <vulnerary magazine>,
and more.
Her Twitter account :
@yuunnnn77

Autumn Truths | Britta Benson

Summer lingered long, never took.

Light spilled, sat easy, asked for a truce.

Now, laughter darkens, learns to wait.

A season peels off trees in golden ochre, bloodred, rust.

Eyes roll, all colours whisper, no intention of remaining.

‘Hear me’, the caught leaf sings, pinched between two fingers.

I close my fist.

The faintest heartbeat stops.


Britta Benson is a happiness & poetry blogging, circus skills instructing & common butterfly following German, a writer, performer & linguist thriving in Scotland, her chosen habitat since the year 2000.
Britta’s Blog – Letters from Scotland
Odds & Ends

The Wildflower | Shaily Agrawal

When I die, Don’t cover my grave with stones or epitaph.

Let me feel the seasons on my skin.

Don’t tend it everyday—let life take over.

Let weeds grow—wildflowers of every colour,

So, you’d think of me in death as in life–

A splash of wild colour in a bleak world.

When I die, Don’t bring fresh flowers everyday.

I won’t meet you, anyway.

I’ll be somewhere sitting in a sunny nook,

Thinking of a lost song or an old book.

So, you, too, better move on—let life take over.


This poem was first published on The Drabble.
Shaily Agrawal is a small-town Indian and a working mother. Her skewed perspective is apparent through her stories on her blog: https://fishinthetrees.home.blog/ You can read her first short story collection, The Forest Bed on Amazon Kindle.

In Autumn | Phillip Knight Scott

It’s likely I’m in Autumn. The leaves reflect the glint

of the sun — lower in the sky though still creating

a schism in the heavens — golden light among

yellow and red foliage. I hang a bit lower these days.

Maybe I even glow a bit less bright — dimmed

.

over the years though still resolved in my journey —

silver hair replacing livelier colors.

I aged without consent, unsure how to ask the sun

to find a new pastime — one that doesn’t revolve around

changing seasons and forcing cheese into mold.


Phillip Knight Scott is a native of Durham, North Carolina, where he lives with his wife and son. He has published one book of poetry, Paint the Living, Plant the Dead, and one novel, The Alien in the Backseat, which can be found along with new poems on his website, phillipknightscott.com.

Birth Welcome | Duane Herrmann

Purple streaks across the sky,
oranges and reds,
set the autumn sun
over prairie grasses,
tan and yellow blowing,
waving under wind.
Any wonder why
I love this world
embracing me?


Duane L Herrmann was surprised to find himself in 1951 on a prairie farm.  Still trying to make sense of that, he’s grown fond of grass waving under wind, trees, and moonlight.  He survived a traumatic, abusive childhood embellished with dyslexia, ADHD (both unknown at the time), cyclothymia, now, PTSD.

Autumn Night | Yuu Ikeda

Pastel leaves
hover around my summer.
They draw pictures
full of sorrow and gleam,
and fill my memories
with cool healing.
I leave my skin to the misty dream,
then, fall asleep.


Yuu Ikeda is a Japan based poet.
She writes poetry on her website.
Her published poems are
“On the Bed” in <Nymphs>,
“Pressure” in <Selcouth Station Press>,
“The Mirror That I Broke” in <vulnerary magazine>,
and more.
Her Twitter account :
@yuunnnn77