Tag Archives: poem

Cracker Jack Box Poem by Michael Lee Johnson

I don’t wear my pocket watch anymore
it reminds me of my age, 73, soon more,
outdated gadget, time hanging where
moving parts below don’t belong nor work anymore.
I don’t like to think about endings.
Age is a Cracker Jack box with no face, modern speed dial,
no toy inside, when it stops, no salute, just pops.


Lesson:  “What young men want to do all night takes older men all night to do.”

Ovi magazine

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One Small Step For Man by Nikos Laios

Neil Armstrong,
Do you know
What you have

Ymoon01_400ou have showed
What is possible
With a unity
Of human

In space,
The boundaries
That seperate us
Disappear and melt
Into insignificance
In the vastness
Of the star-filled

War, bombs,
Blood, death,
Race, religion,
Politics, violence,
Destruction, deprivation,
All dissolve when challenged
Existentially with the vastness
Of space.

We are awed
At the immensity
Of creation
And our lives
On this small
Blue planet pales
Into insignificance
In comparison,
And we become like
Small children
Looking up
At the starry sky
At night in wonder.

It was one small
Step for man Neil,
But do we need
To travel to space
To achieve a
Unity of human


Check Nikos Laios’ EBOOK
Ida & Her Magic Camera
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Ovi magazine

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Where Deer Sleep by George Cassidy Payne

My three-year-old son
asked me where deer sleep.
So I took him there. Stepping
into a space that is not meant
for fathers and sons, we found
a ritual that has nothing to do
with us. An original grace. A serenity
that evokes the burden of redemption.
That place where deer sleep, under a
plumbeous sky, the pods of grass bent
toward the center of the earth. Otherworldy
crop circles and a feeling of trespassing.
For me if not for him. A child cannot connect
with the mystery without stepping on it.



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Coining Silence by Saloni Kaul

Sounds blaring loud as in pretence,
Sounds soft as muttered oath ,
Coaxed into a coil tense !
For us who’ve had enough of both
Breath lithe and bone dense ,
Someone coined Silence.


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The message by Bohdan Yuri

The message I’m getting is far from here
it travels in a line of constant despair.

a hungry child stares at his unfilled hands
his mother cries at the emptiness in his soul.

a shattered dream walks in solemn grief
as the father mourns by his son’s plywood coffin.

a daughter tries so hard to learn the motion
of walking on crutches and a leg to support.

the other learns not to look into a mirror
and cry at the melted flesh from war’s revenge.

they will not forget the aimless shells and bombs
that carried their lives into a den of lost tears.

but the victors will remember only the swagger,
of those who are spoiled by the bounties of wars.

at some point in time the line of despair
will finally reach into everywhere.


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