Michael Lee Johnson – 2 poems 

Reincarnation 

 

Next life I will be a little higher on the pecking order.

No longer a dishwasher at the House of Pancakes,

or Ricky’s All Day Grill, or Sunday night small dog thief.

I will evolve into the Prince of Bullfrogs, crickets don’t bother,

swamp flies don’t bother me-I eat them. Alligators I avoid.

I urinate on lily pads mate across borders, continents at will.

Someone else from India can wash my dishes locally for me.

Forward all complaints to that religious office of Indian affairs.

 

🍃

Children in the Sky 

 

There is a full moon,

distant in this sky tonight,

 

Gray planets planted

on an aging white, face.

 

Children, living and dead,

love the moon with small hearts.

 

Those in heaven already take gold thread,

drop the moon down for us all to see.

 

Those alive with us, look out their

bedroom windows tonight,

we smile, then prayers, then sleep.

 


🍃

Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era. He is a Canadian and USA citizen. Today he is a poet, editor, publisher, freelance writer, amateur photographer, small business owner in Itasca, Illinois.  He has been nominated for 2 Pushcart Prize awards for poetry 2015, nominated Best of the Net 2016.  Poetry published in 33 countries, 133 YouTube poetry videos: https://www.youtube.com/user/poetrymanusa/videos.  Michael Lee Johnson has several books, and chapbooks published and is Editor-in-chief of 2 poetry anthologies,Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze, andDandelion in a Vase of Roses.  He is administrator of a Facebook poetry group over 12, members:  https://www.facebook.com/groups/807679459328998.  He is editor of 10 poetry sites.

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Peter Branson – 2 poems 

The Modern Poet

 

 

feels obligated to

be brushed,

jumps bail,

takes mental residence

elsewhere,

an isolated shack

deep down

some cold

autistic Trail. 

 

With unctuousness

reserved for those

with cash or clout,

conceit’s inbred,

a shaman-like

remorseless

Mutt ‘n’ Jeff,

celebrity,

the thread.

 

🍃

The Wild Boar Inn

 

Long holiday, late afternoon,

down sunken country lanes, three lads

aged nine a good two miles from home,

you dump your bikes beside the pool,

explore the feeder dammed to fuel

three mills below, one modernised,

two ruins, check out behind the inn,

a cobbled yard, old outbuilding,

crates, barrels, stairs, dust everywhere,

a yawning trapdoor’s grainy dark,

rats conjured, slightest stir beyond.

The landlord hangs himself here years

ago, high crime, a mortal sin,

wife gone for good. A creaking from

above, the gently-swaying rope’s

dead weight slow twists inside your head

this way and that. You spook for fun,

retrieve your wheels, don’t dare look back.

 

🍃

 

 Peter Branson

Bindweed on hiatus

Apologies, dear readers and contributors! We are having to take a short hiatus due to having a newborn baby and a forthcoming house move at the start of October. Sometimes life gets in the way of publishing pursuits.

If you have work due to be published in September for Issue 6 on the homepage, it will be delayed until October onwards.

If you have submitted work for consideration in Issue 7, we’ll be in touch.

Submissions for Issue 7 onwards are currently closed.

We’ll be back in due course – keep stopping by!

🍃

Leilanie Stewart and Joseph Robert 

Bindweed Editors

Lynette G. Esposito – 1 poem 

The Widow

 

Sheryl slipped out of bed at 11 pm,

donned her five-year old pink robe,

 headed to the kitchen.

 She pulled the last piece of wedding cake

from the freezer; sat at the table.

At midnight,

she took a bite; felt his ghostly fingers lift her fork.



 

🍃

 

Lynette G. Esposito lives with her husband, Attilio, in Southern, NJ.  She is an animal rights advocate

and is allowed to take care of her five cats when they are in the mood.