INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Amit Parmessur
Steve Barfield
Fahredin Shehu
Karyn M. Bruce
Richard Gartee
Running Cub
Dejoy Robillard
Yuan Hongri
Lasz.o Slomovits
Silvia Scheibli
Stephen Sleboda
Alan Britt
Gale Acuff
Elisavietta Ritchie
Shutta Crum
Patty Dickson Pieczka
Duane Locke
Jennifer Burd
Aneek Chatterjee
Robert Nisbet
Robert Penick
Alex Ferde
Solomon Musa Haruna
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2020
Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
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AAR history note: in print 1967 - 1980. Irregular publications 1980 - 2004. As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 54 years all together....
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staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running cub
Fred Wolven
Submissions via e-mail:
I organize a
dance party
inside, the floor is
lighted,
people come & go
Many dance with me,
ceaseless
But some only watch
ruins, only lament
famine
outside
Let the world
die silently
Those who deserve death,
must
die, those who can’t
dance will
develop unfit toes &
legs
Those who shy away from
light
must remain in darkness
I don’t want to come out
of my bones, flesh &
skin
Inside dazzles in light,
dance,
laughter.
It’s full of flowing
crops
giggling in the sun,
with power
to suppress any famine
outside.
But, suddenly
I invited the
rain
It came.
I ordered the silent
yellow flower;
It bloomed.
The crow shouted
But I never wished
Road traffics
are so organized
today, and the guitarist
playing my favorite tune
after a long time
A boy with a
puppy came
dancing under the
jubilant
orange sky.
This could
have been a
perfect occasion to
shower you
with my singular love
poem
But
suddenly,
the crow shouted.
Aneek Chatterjee, Kolkata, India