A Mysterious Party Ann WJ White The country cottage, surrounded by evening light, is host to the many fireflies, nightbirds and shadowed creatures. The building wears a mask of civility under the languid heat of summer night. Strange voices project from the treeline. Stars hold…

You must not Think much of me If you think Pursing you’re lips tightly While holding your breath hardly As you kiss me Hello Keeps the barley from bursting out.

This is not the first time I’ve escaped my capture in a bottle on a dewy summer’s night The air thick like a sticky porridge   A child trapped me once She emerged from the nearby cottage.   I remember the heat of her sticky…

Translated from The Book of Lycan Poetry Strange. Dost thou feel strange, Wolf? The shifting of the tides, mayhaps? The time is near. Lunata, in her glory, rises into that endless, beautiful swath of black. T’would be your first vison of her since fangs were…

Under the light of the moon Silver and unsure I ponder What was it all for? The gatekeeping The anger The hate The superiority complex The sun and the moon Both celestial beings Each wonderful In their own ways But they share the sky Giving…

prompt 9 hour 9 loathly zoom meetings   staring at the tree line hovering just beyond the strange drone of the zoom meeting lulling me in this heat into lethargy trapped like porridge in a bottle and just as willing to move.   I mask…

The path from the cottage to the seaside is usually quiet and solitary. But today a boy sits on the grass watching me. I start as a speck getting larger in the distance and I see him a speck on the grass morphing into a…

There is a general lethargy towards yet another Zoom call   Our lives reduced to screens though some of us have abandoned the screens in favor of summer’s heat   It is a strange time people fight over the right to not wear a mask…

In a glen On the far side of town Stood a cottage Just beyond the tree line If you find yourself struck With hunger or lethargy Come in for a porridge Or a nap on the trundle You will welcome the heat From a bottle…

With the heat given out by a firefly in a bottle,  shards are broken, bomb and knife,  the splinter of senses,  The litany of evil deeds,  that pour forth from the TV sets  into houses where reaction is less compassion now,  more of lethargy.  These mayfly…