BREAK BONE HOME by Stephanie Foy

Give me a break

Throw me a bone

I can’t much more of this total heartache

I’m alone and I want to go home

I’d settle gladly for the mundane

To pick up coconuts and not go insane


This pretty green string is around my wrist

Because my arms feel naked without my charms

It was only after settling to the rhythms of this hell

That I realized I’ve been flouting mop strings

All I need is a bell


Sound the alarm.  I’m breaking out.

I’ve got an itchy red rash all over myself


I’d give anything for the mundane

To pick up coconuts… I’m going insane



I’ve been told that amounts of success pays

For the failure of years.

I wouldn’t know

I am still shedding tears.

The fire keeps burning,

The desires keep yearning.

I am building up to something great.

It’s just taking so long cause I keep tempting fate.

But I’m shedding the past,

Weeding out the baggage.

I’m intent on making this

A lifetime I can manage.

If it is true that a moments success pays

For the failure of the years,

By the time I get there

I’ll have cast off all my fears.

The Moon by Ashley McNeil

The moon is ours, a faithful friend protecting the purity of our love

eternal. The stars have seen the look in our eyes.  Knowing we

believed in the universe and trusted the path we were granted.

Watching the sunset over the water, feeling your arms around me…

Magical.  Never trusting anything, ever to putting my life in your hands.

You gave me hope. Showed me truth.  You are my light at the end of the

tunnel, the one I have been lost in, scared and alone, Never again…

I miss you, your smile, touch.  Everything.  Do you love me more

Then you did yesterday?

Poetry inspired by Jamal May’s HUM

After reading poems from Jamal May’s collection Hum, Write On participants were given the prompt to write a highly “mechanical’ poem using words such as construction, dissemble, wire, sandpaper, etcTwo poems follow:


By: Elizabeth Bailey

The clicking sound of a

Sewing machine in the background


An explosion of sound.


Looking around at tons of plywood

and cinderblocks.


Hidden beneath the middle of the stage.


Standing there in a rust colored tutu,

with needle nose pliers for legs.


Adrenaline kicks in as if holding

like a grenade.


Concentration is concrete.


Feet licking the floor,

griping as if sandpaper.


Body is malleable

as a wire.


Cutting and darting across the

stage like an exact knife.


Twirling to a stop.


Moving arms and legs

like interlocking gears.


Taking a bow.


Tired, and ready to be disassebled.


Finding comfort at the bottom

of a take out box.


Although it may appear I’ve gone haywire

By Tava Maray (Aka Sunnie Gee)

Although it may appear I’ve gone haywire

All circuits seen to be firing upon

taking a closer look,

Regardless of wether or not the seer uses

night vision instruments or a drone.


Sometimes I feel as though the world

wishes to disassemble me with

needle nose pliers, as if I’m merely a

Laptop or some other piece of electronic



What they will find, however, is NOT

a photo-copied straight grained

individual with concrete actions or ideas.


No longer will I allow then to stay

in my “Hotel” rent free, guessing who

I’ll be.  As for me, I’m still striving

to be the best me I can be.

A perfect imperfection under

construction. This is me.

Where I Am From by Janelle Willis

I am from fuzzy blankets

From Cafe Bustelo to French vanilla cream

I am from the flowerbed around the birdbath

beautiful ever changing and smelling super heavenly

I am from the periwinkle hydrangea bush, abundant prettyful burst of color

I am from bluegrass festivals and building bonfires

From Granny and Pa to go rest high on that mountain

I am from checking and feeding Pa’s crows to “Let’s go fishing at Coe’s”

From do unto others as you’d have them do unto you and “Dinners ready,

You’ll go wash your hands!” and “What do you want to drink”?

I am from “God is so good”, “Look busy Jesus is coming”

I am from Kentucky and good ole southern hospitality, biscuits and gravy,

corn on the cob, beans and cornbread with Granny’s sweet pepper relish

From the time Pa found the rare Stradivarius Fiddle in Germany and left it laying

on a rock

The “don’t throw that away it is still good”

I scream you scream we all scream for ice cream and

They just don’t make them like that anymore.


Janelle Willis

The Blue Fuzzy Book by Angela Cooper Sloan

Remain sitting at your table and listen,

simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary.

The world will freely offer itself to you

to be unmasked , it has no choice,

it will roll in at your feet.


This is what the book had said to me

as I tried not to be weak.

I had asked the book for answers

that I did truly seek.

Had an appointment with my attorney

later on that week,

Doubted myself when we were done

no longer feeling meek.

Looked back at what the book had said

and I began to weep.

So I sat down at my table and began

to listen while staying still.

alone and contemplating

how did I really feel?

Another week went by and again I

asked the book about my fate.

no longer could I wait.

Asked the book to take a look ahead

at what was on my plate.

it told me to be strong

And to put on the armor of light

so I prayed about my freedom

each and every night

Today I called my lawyer

still no answers or offers to see

no word from the States Attorney

no phone call with a plea

There I sat again feeling sorry for thee

I was inconsolable

looking for some reason for me to be

eyed my notebook at the end of my

bed looking right back at me

I opened it to write and realized I already

had an answer and it was one that made me free

it came from this blank paper

and this blue fuzzy book you see!

So I sat there at my table listening

simply waited, quiet and still, solitary

totally unsure of my fate

but positive and hopeful that I would soon see the gate

like the book had freely

said it would be unmasked to me

it would roll in at my feet then I would surely see

I know this refers to the answers I seek

again I have an appointment with my attorney in a week

I am remaining strong and putting on my armor of light

while continuing to write and continuing to fight

for my freedom I do pray each and every night


Angela Cooper Sloan