by Sarah Russell

I'm in a taxi at the end of the world,
meter running, searching for that place
I saw once when you loved me.  The night
is an egg -- thick, with a broken moon.  
Since you've gone, I rack up days
like billiard balls, scatter them
to the corners of time, looking
for a pocket -- any warm pocket.

118th Weekly Poetry Contest

by MHPayne

The stars,
Like penguins in the daylight,
Waddle gassy, spotted, unwieldy.
But far away and in the dark,
Like penguins out to sea,
They soar.

117th Weekly Poetry Contest

by Che Sara Sara

After the second storm,
twigs are trapped in ice
and a granulated crust of frost
coats two feet of wet snow.

A blue jay torments a titmouse
to get the last bread crumb
and perches on the window box
to spy on me, wondering
if I have a better gig going on inside.

I should hate this arrogant bully
but I am charmed by his audacious blue,
the memory of a summer sky.

First published in Blueline

112th Weekly Poetry Contest