The Poet Community

Contemporary Poetry

Remembrance of Tinsel | A Poem by Ken Allan Dronsfield

Flowing grace, waving in the breeze like crowds at a ball game.

Back-lit with colored lights and silvery tinted strands of delicious

tidings of tinsel. Branches sway in unison to gusty williwaws whilst

the blinking and chasing lights danced their favorite minuets.

Greetings cards adorned the fireplace mantle and stockings

hung patiently waiting for treats from the great man in red.

Mom’s favorite chocolate chip cookies graced an oval plate,

a fresh glass of milk with napkin and carrots for Rudolph.

Those memories are burned into every fiber of my being. Even

the scent of the pine incense burning in a holder on the old desk

igniting the atmosphere of hopes and dreams for a young child.

A toboggan in the corner, skis, colorful packaged gifts all about.

The laughs, the giggles, the tears and jovial smiles. We ran from

the house in the morning to check the roof for landing sled marks.

The mysterious visitor always kept silent and never revealed

his presence, except in the lovely memories left on Christmas Day.


Visit Ken at

Broken Frame | A Poem by JD DeHart

So, you see the way
I see. Hitchcock was a master
of this.

Take me inside the mind
of the character. Problem is
once you have run

your gray matter across some
pages, I wonder if the ink
doesn’t leave a streak there.

You once thought the earth
lined up. Now, there is a slight
angle you can’t shake.

A word appears, imposed
on what you once knew.

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Lifeworld | A Poem by Haris Adhikari

I tried my father’s shoes.
They were too big. Still
I kept trying them, as said.
But it did not help; I’ve not grown
as tall as he.

I also tried my brothers’
shoes, shirts and trousers.
They too were big. Still
I kept trying them, as said.
But it did not help; I’ve not grown
as tall as they.

Now, with a receding hairline,
and with a worldview of my own,
I’m growing more and more into
the reverse of my young resilience!
And I don’t have to fit into
a certain height, certain build. Lifeworld
taught me so in the end.

Visit Haris at

Haris Adhikari is a poet, translator, editor and a lecturer living in Kavre, Nepal.

Living with Regret | A Poem by Wayne Russell

Profound brown leaves,
crushed underneath my
feet, like memories; swirling
and forlorn.

I dream of us and our children,
it’s the good times that I cling
onto in the noonday sun.

It’s the memories that shelter
me, from the onslaught of winter

It’s the knowledge of loneliness,
that mortifies me the most, lost
without my family.

It’s facing a craggy city, threading
a bleak needle of homelessness,
asleep in some derelict house, long
abandoned by inhabitants, encased
now by only the darkness and me.

Wayne Russell is an amateur photographer and creative writer who was born and raised in Florida. Wayne’s musings have been published online and in print since about 1990. Wayne is a recovering alcoholic who currently roams the streets of Columbus, OH.

Snow-Covered Treetops | A Poem by Debra Sasak Ross

Brittle trees of winter
Cold wind creeps through your limbs
Like icy fingertips
Clutching at the Spring.
Snowflakes fall
Landing firmly
Creating a misty revival
For Spring’s re-birth
And salvation.

Visit Debra at

Debra Sasak Ross Is a published poet from Chicago, Il. You can find her work in the anthologies Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze and Dandelion in a Vase of Roses. Her first book, “Believe” will be published soon. You can also fine here work here and at Besides reading and writing, she loves thunderstorms and blizzards.