A mirror started showing me,
The places I can see.
It whispers in the night.
That’s what I question in this delight.
About Alexis
Alexis is a young writer who explores the shadows of the mirror.
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Author: Auroras & Blossoms Page 2 of 36
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A white bird flying high
A symbol of peace and love
Flying free with no rules
Going wherever they please
About Hadley K
Hadley K is a young writer whose heart fills with love when she sees a dove, this magical bird, fly.
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Dreams are life’s nectar;
love is not pollen for fools.
Stoop for the clovers
if you need a place to start;
hold petals’ sweet peace,
releasing regrets and pain.
Feel the heart of earth.
Poem inspired by Rudyard Kipling’s “If”.
About Arvilla Fee
Arvilla Fee lives in Dayton, Ohio with her husband, three of her five children, and two dogs. She teaches for Clark State College, is the lead poetry editor for October Hill Magazine, and has been published in over 100 magazines. Her three poetry books, The Human Side, This is Life, and Mosaic: A Million Little Pieces are available on Amazon.
Arvilla’s life advice: Never travel without snacks.
Website: https://soulpoetry7.com
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In my family, we leave pennies on the graves of friends and relatives when visiting their burial sites. And although there are apparently zillions of pennies lying around unused in the US, it can be very difficult to find one when you don’t stock up, first.
Only last week, at the site of my parents’, grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ headstones, do you think I could find one solitary penny to leave for them?
First, we planted geraniums from my sister-in-law, and then the search for pennies was on. In the old days, there might have been some in the car’s unused ash tray, but our current model doesn’t have one of those. The bottom of my purse was another good bet. No, only crumpled receipts and half used tubes of lip balm, there.
Trying not to look too ridiculous, as other visitors filed by in respectful silence along the gently curving path, we pushed the car seats way back, lay on the ground and reached underneath as far as we could. Nothing. Of value, anyway. I began to imagine my ghostly ancestors all watching us, tapping their toes and wondering, “Didn’t she bring us pennies?”
With their spectral neighbors in repose muttering to each other, “I’m thinking not.”
My husband, whose family does not follow this tradition but who is sympathetic, had a good suggestion: “Maybe we can reuse some of the pennies we’ve left before?” It was tempting; there were bound to be some that had fallen off to the side.
Deciding that we would be silly to go rooting around like grave robbers, I said that planting flowers for my ancestors would have to do for today.
Though I may suggest to the administrator that a change machine be installed somewhere on the property.
About Penny Nolte
Penny Nolte, from Montpelier, Vermont, is an author, artist, and educator creating gentle, quirky narratives of family and place. After a decades-long break from storytelling, her new work is beginning to appear in literary magazines including PoemCity: 2025 and Fireflies’ Light.
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When
Wildflowers wilt,
And
Birdsong turns into a lone caw
And
Lush grass turns yellow;
That’s when
We’ll go.
When
The iron fence starts to rust
And
Wooden deck chairs decay
And
Wind chimes fall apart;
When
Music we love becomes outdated
And
Books we read go out of print
And
Things we treasure seem worthless;
When
Skin around our mouths wrinkles
And
Our bodies don’t work the same
And
Every breath is a countdown;
That’s when
We go and
Our life begins.
About Navika Dasani
Navika Dasani has been writing poems officially since the sixth grade, but her writing journey started from the moment she was born. When she is not busy writing, you will find her singing, reading, fencing, studying, or cooking; but she’s always telling stories.
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