California Summer by Michael Lee Johnson

California Summer

By Michael Lee Johnson


Coastal warm breeze

off Santa Monica, California

the sun turns salt

shaker upside down

and it rains white smog, humid mist.

No thunder, no lightning,

nothing else to do

except sashay

forward into liquid

and swim

into eternal days

like this


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 published in more than 915 small press magazines in 27 countries, and he edits 10 poetry sites.  Author’s website is the author of The Lost American:  From Exile to Freedom (136 page book) ISBN:  978-0-595-46091-5, several chapbooks of poetry, including From Which Place the Morning Rises and Challenge of Night and Day, and Chicago Poems.  He also has over 95 poetry videos on YouTube as of 2015:  Michael Lee Johnson, Itasca, IL. nominated for 2 Pushcart Prize awards for poetry 2015 & Best of the Net 2016.  Visit his Facebook Poetry Group and join  He is also the editor/publisher of anthology, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze:



DISCOURSE – Pascal Style & Assertion by Stefanie Bennet

DISCOURSE –Pascal Style      [Stefanie Bennett]
Just because the postman
Careers by
Empty handed –
And the Linden Tree
Bears no fruit –
And friends travel
On a mistaken
Devil-may-care tide
Doesn’t mean
That the inconspicuous
One ‘in waiting’
Won’t attend
The Chekov soiree’s
Defining principle
… Of
       The first singer;
… Of
       The last song.
ASSERTION     [Stefanie Bennett]
What is it that
The outside in!
A good book.
Stefanie Bennett has published several books of poetry, a novel &
a libretto. Of mixed ancestry [Irish/Italian/Paugussett-Shawnee] she
was born in Queensland, Australia. Her latest poetry title – 2015 – is
“The Vanishing” with Walleah Press.

2 poems from Alisa Velaj

The owl’s hooting atop green trees
cannot dwindle down the anxiety of nothingness.
Every pillow of lilies holds underneath a song or a verse.
A cuckoo’s grin – a requiem onto the air’s skin!
Translated from Albanian by Arben P. Latifi
Alisa Velaj was born in the southern port town of Vlora, Albania in 1982. She has been shortlisted for the annual international Erbacce-Press Poetry Award in UK in June 2014. Velaj’s full length book of poetry A Gospel of Light is published by Aquillrellle in June 2015. Her works have appeared in more than 60 print and online international magazines, including: FourW twenty-five Anthology (Australia), The Journal (UK), The Dallas Review (USA), The Linnet’s Wings (UK), The Seventh Quarry (UK), Envoi Magazine (UK) etc etc.
Thank you for your poetic contribution Alisa :)  AND your patience :)  Poetry Pasta is honored:)

Veteran’s Cemetary by Donal Mahoney



donal mahoney

Veteran’s Cemetary

by Donal Mahoney

Families come
on Memorial Day
depending on the weather;
otherwise the Fourth of July, 
if it’s not too hot.
You can hear them coming,
adults in the rear,
reminiscing and talking,
children who can read
announcing the names
on the stones until they 
discover the right one. 
Then they shout.
Adults bring flowers, 
placing them softly
in front of the stones 
near our heads.
Children stick little 
flags from parades
in our waistlines.
Some ladies bring towels
and wipe down the stones;
others towelettes to remove
gunk from the lettering. 
All mean well and we 
appreciate the visit and wish 
we could say something.
It’s a thrill to hear voices.
Otherwise it’s lawn mowers,
leaf blowers, snow plows 
the rest of the year.
<> on May 28, 2012 in Arlington, Virginia.
Generated by IJG JPEG Library
Every time I read this I wonder about the “underground listeners.  An apropos poem  for a somber holiday😦

Memorial Day by Valeri Beers

Good Memorial day to you
This is a sad holiday😦

Valeri's poems & random thoughts

Memorial Day
by Valeri Beers

All gave some
Some gave all
Just take a moment & remember
When you’re having a ball

For the price they
were willing to pay
you don’t have to
go to work or school today

I don’t want to be
a downer at your barbecue
or make you feel guilty about your
long weekend plan
Just take a moment & remember
why you can



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When Words Were Stones by Marianne Szlyk

When Words Were Stones

by Marianne Szlyk

She stands at the edge
of the river,
looking out at the flood,
its caramel color swelling
over where the stones were
last summer.

The river smells of mud
and drowned animals.
She won’t add to all that,
so she turns away, knowing
that the stone will return,
that words will, too.

 Tomorrow she will
return to the river.
Today she returns home.

Marianne says this is a first draft. I say WOW :)  Thank you for your poetic contribution:)

(from a poetry prompt by Franco Esposito)