(c) JoAnne Tucker

Bio: Tolu Ogunlesi is a Nigerian journalist, poet, photographer, fiction writer, and blogger. Ogunlesi was appointed to the role of special assistant on digital/new media by President Muhammadu Buhari on 18 February 2016.

Ariadne, Slipping : An Ode

To princesses whose crowns 
constellate.

To Iustitia, sans scale 
or blindfold.

To all the women 
who make others famous.

To nymphs who stay awake
to blur lines

To witches who give
porridge to peasant girls.

To mothers who forget 
the magic words.

To family trees full
of marbled matriarchs.

To choose between food
and freedom. 

To be painted—
instead of sculpted.

To pose is to live
forever. 

To lose balance is to learn 
how not to find it.

from https://Dribble.com/gordiedeanhttps://www.behance.net/GordieDean

My name is Gordon Lewis, I am an artist/poet/photographer and musician based out of Colorado

Over the Edge

I’m wandering in the desert
Looking for a home
Not lost forever
Wherever I roam

There’s a million signs that lead to nowhere
And that’s just where I’ll start
Help me get to where I’m goin’
And in the end we must part

There’s an endless ravine of courage
And I need to take a sip
Get me on the journey
Take me on the trip

We’re nearing the end of the road
Gotta make a decision quick
Pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps
Hopefully that’ll do the trick

Art Unsung

Imagine all of the poems that went up in smoke think of the art erased and the instruments silenced Grasp the loss of creation the thought of unspoken prose the deafening of the Opera and the end of…

Bio: Aaron Bowker – based in the United States is a super self-critical Virgo, walking a path between worlds while dabbling in art, photography, and poetry. Poems have been featured in Failed Haiku, Cold Moon Journal, The Wombwell Rainbow, and Heterodox Haiku Journal, with art and poetry featured in The Hooghly Review, The Wombwell Rainbow, and Black & White Haifa/Haisha.

Special thank you to Jerome Berglund for being my mentor and pushing me to limits otherwise unexplored.

thousands of beats
creating the hum
of music 

overwhelming waves 
blissfully drowning
in music

spring’s canvas
splattered with a painter’s
yellow brush 

worn out six string
millions of stories to share
that are out of tune

Thank you for considering my art and poetry.

Bio. Myrtle Thomas lives in the USA and has been writing poetry for many years. She is retired from a large manufacturing company which gives her time to write her thoughts and emotions out. Myrtle has been published in issues of ” Otherwise Engaged  A  literature and Arts Journal ” and ” The Readers and Writers Magazine ” She has been a member of ALLpoetry.com for any years and enjoys reading poetry and sharing hers.

The Vintage Earthenware He comes to me like the sun rising like the moonlight on a starry night and in his earthen eyes I look at the stars how the sky crushes me at this moment! His hands recreate me with his touch I wander through each minute of life so very far I've fallen and my breath rises his dark skin meets my pale breast. How many times we've walked through - the dark…

O’d to Prince

I guess I should have known by the way you Played so long Danced so long So Full On. Did the splits, gave your All to Funk gave Mojo More. Out James-ed James Brown sometimes. You, the best-dressed bees knees. Your band a team of best-dressed ass. More model Motown grooves revolve, evolve-ing. Echoes of Stax, a new Philly from Minneapolis. You sang so sweet, reached the high notes. Flew so high. I guess I should have known there would be pain. Eternal Sets you played — Sweet Love you made. Full On Times 9 lives, funk-cool Cat. Times. Eternal. Love Candle Creativity Burned Both Ends. No — all the way through And both ends. Damn! Love those Keys in ‘Girlfriend’, boyfriend. Love your Guitar ‘When Doves Cry’. That Tambourine in ‘Tambourine’. Your humour. Your timing. Your poise. That pause in ‘Kiss’. Love Your Voice Always Your…

Dark Arbors Evening

The arches had broken
The sky painted black
A Dark Arbors Evening
You whispered me our last whisper (I hear them calling you back) We stared at the shadows To a long time ago, when you were just a child Innocent and Carefree, before the world turned wild. now we have boredom by the trails Now the pills made us older, and the world's grown cold No longer children, no longer are we bold Haunted leaves you kept in grasp The pain and sorrow, the flamingo continues to flow Try an escape, you say "I'm an escapist" Through the honey, and run far away Trapped by the cycling. The game spins anew and the same. Voices within, have perfected your name. A Dark Arbors Evening Waxing the trees for our shade, and hibernate in our abandonment Lesser memories, I just went from black to fade…