Micro Poetry by David A. Goodrum
Micro Poetry by David A. Goodrum #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
Tag: nature
that slow DRAGGED END. by Devayani Anvekar
“the sky no more cerulean blue – soused in black ink, with it its moon and stars too. It is forever pit dark.” – excerpt from poem “that slow DRAGGED END.” by Devayani Anvekar #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
Walking the Parks by Seth Wright
“I’d gone to Pinkerton since I was born, but I never noticed the trees until that spring day, when my mind finally cleared of distractions to notice nature’s beauty.” – excerpt from Walking the Parks by Seth Wright #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
Micro Poetry by Mykyta Ryzhykh
Micro Poetry by Mykyta Ryzhykh #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
After Dark, Memorial Park by Neil Ellis Orts
“The woods are dark. The are so very dark and full of sounds.” – excerpt from After Dark, Memorial Park by Neil Ellis Orts @neowrites #TheMetaworker #ForgeFriday
Micro Poems by Chris Bullard
Micro Poems by Chris Bullard #TheMetaworker MetaworkerMonday
Microfiction by Kathryn Gossow
Microfiction by Kathryn Gossow #MetaworkerMonday #TheMetaworker
“Big, Blue Watery Eye” by Joe Ducato
“Her other big talent was the ability to talk Kit into anything as long as she supplied the courage. That’s how she got him to go into that cave that day.” – excerpt from Big, Blue Watery Eye by Joe Ducato #MetaworkerMonday #TheMetaworker
Micro Poetry by Michał Zieliński
Micro Poetry by Michał Zieliński #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
The Beach by Daniel Brennan
“The beach is sinking. / It’s a sigh. It’s the lack of you and I, pulling like the tide / against its warm face.” – excerpt from “The Beach” by Daniel Brennan @dannyjbrennan #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
“What if our bodies were trees?” by Lucio Cooper
“In a cracked-pot / full of tubes, / Chlorophyll leaks / out your mouth.” from “What if our bodies were trees?” by Lucio Cooper. #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
Desquamation by Frank Njugi
“At the height of my loneliness, I examine ways to escape my skin.” #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
“Deer Hunt” by Sylvia Cumming
I’ve put the sign on the door for a reason: “Day sleeper, don’t ring or knock,” but the doorbell rings anyway, just when I’m dozing …
The Metaworker Podcast | 015 The Borderland Furies by Oisín Breen
Episode Description: Matthew, Elena, and Mel talk with Oisín Breen about his poem “The Borderland Furies” and about his new book of poetry, Lillies on …
Microfiction by Doug Jacquier
DetourmentiaIt began with her putting the kettle in the fridge and calling everybody ‘darling’ because shecouldn’t remember their names. Then she copied the young women’s …
“crickets, tell me that” by April Yu
the night has not stolen the taste and shape of my grass-drowned flesh. after all, your croaks already drink the air from my lungs until …
“The Refusal” by Lock Howe
Lock Howe grew up in rural Tennessee in a conservative, Baptist area. Raised atheist and liberal, Lock struggled with feelings of isolation and confusion, themes …
“Sacrifice” by Lock Howe
Lock Howe grew up in rural Tennessee in a conservative, Baptist area. Raised atheist and liberal, Lock struggled with feelings of isolation and confusion, themes …
Five Haikus by Joshua St. Clare
sand dollar the boy buys the moon the ocean chestnut cache the squirrel forgets a forest root cellar Hunger Moon in the bushel baskets Messier …
“Fallen Leaves” by Rhys Lee
Rhys Lee is a Masters candidate at Mount Saint Mary’s University. He has poetry published in The Driftwood at Point Loma Nazarene University. Image
“The Last Atlantean” by David Henson
Atlantis Without Birds Marble women in gardens used to reach into the sky and gather birds by the armful. Raindrops brought them down in scores to swallow worms they …
“Seeds of Racism” by Dave Luker
At dawn, in the distance, a kitchen radio slips commodity prices through a screen door into a farmyard, echoing off the metallic green of a …
“Text Me When You Get Home” by Helen Nancy Meneilly
night falls like a brick. urgent tongue of wind stuck to the back of my neck, hair wrapped around my throat. fist of keys in …
“The Calling” by Christina Eagen
without askingearthquakes rumbled to announce thearrival of mountains rivers roared to forewarn rocksof their ravage winds howled to demand fishermenback to shore wildfires raged to …
“Loch Ness Monster in the Rain at Night” by David Henson
A fang of lightning crashesa branch into the wind-clawed loch. Thunder drives eels to the bottom. Water flashes downa mountain rising through the skin of …
“Suburban Complaint #1988—Skunked” by Peter Dabbene
It was late at night, and the dog was barking—that is, until she suddenly voiced a squeal that made it sound like she’d been stabbed …
“Mussel” by Christian Ward
Every shell is dipped in night. Place an ear against the ceramic to eavesdrop on fox squabbles, crows watching rubbish bags left split open like …
“Passing Through” by Dale Cottingham
“There is no answer” you said “to whyin an inquiry because an inquiry is to find out why,”your voice rising over us like a storm,a …
“An American Experience” by Dale Cottingham
While I waited at roadside I thought,why not try some loveliness. So I did.I saw visions in far reaches, feltthe soft touch of silence, melodiescame …
“Abruptly-” by Shalini Singh
Hotaru ika are a glow-in-the-dark species, hiding in the translitic a mesmerizing light courtesy of a network of thousands of photophores, drifting long hairs of …
“Bird Calls over Puget Sound” by Sarette Danae
There is no chirping from gulls, no chatter back and forth,No songs at sunrise or ushering in night. No lonely callsFor a lover to echo …
“Still in the City” by DS Maolalai
on hills by park pathwaysand beds of fresh petal,we collapse on our elbowsand tightly scrubbed grass.twist off ourbackpacks, wet with the weightof the sun and …
“A Season’s Breath” by Turi Ekirapa
I can’t sleep. Deep breath in. Boredom has hit me like a speck of bird poop that I can’t shake off. I’m doing that thing …
“Hope is a Blue Jay” by Rebecca Johnson
I.As snow settles upon the landand brings with it crisp, frozen air,I’ll hear the cardinal’s jarring callas it echoes in my anxious mind. The cold …
“Pennies for Pilgrims” by Julie Allyn Johnson
Julie Allyn Johnson, a sawyer’s daughter from the American Midwest, began writing poetry after her retirement from IT work in 2017. She loves hiking, gravel-travel …
“Wildflowers” by Matt McGuirk
People say suburbs are for well clipped lawns with green grass like you see in real estate photos or magazines. We didn’t move there for …
“thick crusts of midnight in the late Ordovician, a wilderness of morning elsewhere” by Kate Shannon
i.other things live easy, you knowI suppose I, too, live easy in some ways.a domination of oceans gatheringa braying of old bones, dust and then …
“Recreate” by Shannon Cuthbert
Floating, ghost horse wakes in a fieldExactly like his own, just that he can’t touchThe soft weeds crawling up the fence.At first, he shivers into …
“Gardens” by Andrew DeBella
I I plunged my shovel into bare ground One foot stomping its edge, Tearing dirt like paper with needle-like precision My garden was full; I …
“Field Trip” by John Grey
You wake up on the fourth floor to the garbled coo of some window-shopping pigeons, dress quickly, pick at breakfast, clamber down the dark stairwell …
“Zoom In-Out-In and Cry” by Hibah Shakhez
Earth o’ mine green red brown and blue, They ask me which colour you are And laugh when I cannot answer. Could I lie you …
“Mourning” by Oisin Breen
Oisín Breen is a 35 year-old poet, part time academic in narratological complexity, and a financial journalist covering the US registered investment advisory sector. Dublin …
“As We Know It” by Marco Etheridge
You pause in the center of the footbridge, a silver-bright ribbon running beneath you, gravel paths serpentine under the locust trees that define the banks …
“Birth Cave” by Terry Tierney
Shaman paints the wolf and full moon blister red above a sinuous line of orange scales, serpent tail pointing to the past, head spitting a …
“Horseshoes.” by DS Maolalai
somewhere up here you might bite the whole horizon. love pours in like an emptied sack of apples. tastes fresh like apples, and smells like …
“The Hunt” by Seth Jani
I would step out of my bodyto dream I was concurrentwith the wind and light,or the painted stonestossed over the embankmentinto the hearts of rivers.I …
“Cattail Confessions” by Hannah Melin
I’ve fallen in love with all of them. How could I not? With their skin so soft I can watch it give way beneath my …
“Tree Song” by Melissa Reynolds
I have stood for over a hundred years in this place, endured the idiots who link hands and try to encompass my bulk, observed the …
“The Green Instruction Manual” by Dr. Amit Shankar Saha
Take out a month of green from your April heart. Spread a quicksilver green on the whitewashed walls. Paint a gut-wrenching green on the palls …
“Two Mothers and a Mulberry Tree” by John Noland
Soft as buckskin and long as a train’s whistle, mourning dove calls drift down the summer afternoon, signaling the coming evening coolness. I listen hard …
“One Day” by Rebekah Ricksecker
6:47 AM The darkness turns gray; the misty fog rests over the water; the honeysuckle perfumes the air as white petals float on the still …
“Seasons of Earth” by Manisha Manhas
the dust storms whineagainst the windowas cherry dreamsslide inside.Searching a marigold,a child’s eyes bob tothe tunes of morningas do butterflies rise fromchrysanthemum jars.And so does the …
“Sea Moon” by Sheikha A.
A road divider on our thoroughfare has been constructing since three major eclipses, going under the idea scalpel by fickle engineers – flowers or trees …
Mother Rips my Roots by Jasmine King
With Lines from “The Apple Trees at Olema” by Robert Hass Shakes me by the raw, white, backlit flaring of her lightning streaked hand. Fingers …
“Coming Home” by Ray Cicetti
Once there was a man who found a forest in his pocket. When he came home after a day’s work he would take it out. …
I Am Scared of the Night by Indunil Madhusankha
As the dusk creeps through the summit the once luscious sun dips below the rocky mounts And flocks of birds soar away weaving intricate patterns …
“Twilight’s Crescendo” by Ken Allan Dronsfield
absent of pearls in a grand ocean mollusk crying self righteousness without salty tears seeking to find truth in an unrelenting fervor see the dark …
“If I Were to Outlive You” by Ellen Webre
If I were to outlive you, I would feel the poet in me blackening, nails pulling in like a sea of petals in the mouth …
“Twilight’s Drift” By Ken Allan Dronsfield
Reason for waking, lofty faded dreams soft steps in grass eyes raised skyward Brisk breeze blows wind swirls on water geese march in air reality …