The Season of Childhood by Dani O’Keefe

Jo Agard

“The Season of Childhood”

Beautiful orbs reflect vibrant rainbows
break only to reveal
lost summer night whispers
and the fading light of dusk.

The air is cool, dry, and dancing
The trees join in the slow waltz
To the music of rustling branches
And the drifting of the clouds.

I can see the sunset through the spheres,
A window to my memories.
I can hear the laughter and shouts
Of my friends and I in my old backyard.

Sun-kissed smiles and melted otter pops
The thudding of sandals on pavement
Grass stains and bubblegum pink nails
All the joys of that season of my life

I still watch the bubbles float by out my window
Taken by the wind, far away.
When my eyes close, I can feel it all,
The summer nights, the warm air, the toothy grins
Of childhood all over again.

Poetry by Dani O’Keefe

Image by Jo Agard

DAISY by McKenzie Walker

Image courtesy Hailey Owens

Mom had that look in her eyes again
Like an absence of reality.
She sent me away for another cab ride around town,
She told me for only an hour or so
But this was the fifth ride this month.
She promised me anything I wanted,
Ice cream or a new toy.
But I knew better,
She only makes promises when she sends me away
For the wrong reasons.
Read more

WE ARE BORN by Jessi Proulx

Image by Jessi Proulx

 

We grow to learn from our parents’ rights,

Their wrongs,

Their mistakes.

They teach us whether or not it’s wrong

To be passionate about the things you love, our presentation of

Ourselves.

A child is born into this world knowing nothing.

It is what we teach that child that will create its perspective on this world.

What will create their piece of mind? Read more

SECURITY BLANKET by Kristen Buehner

Images by Jessi Proulx

Lady Liberty turns her face as the buildings fall to dust
One
Two.

The news stations play the same questions over and over and over.
They call all the people who have a drop of an opinion on the matter.
They crowd the faces of elected officials, law enforcement, innocent bystanders,
Anyone with an inkling of sense still rattling around their dust-filled brains behind their dust-filled eyes
And they draw half-answers out of them with a slow syringe, and distribute them through radio waves and TV broadcasts as security blankets, and they just keep talking
Because the silence of unanswered questions is too loud for them to bear. Read more