Ann Arbor Review

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

Violeta Allmuca
Fred Wolven
 


Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2020 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
------------------------------------------------

AAR history note:  in print 1967 - 1980.  Irregular publications 1980 - 2004.  As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 54 years all together....

------------


staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running cub
Fred Wolven
 

Submissions via e-mail:

poetfred@att.net

 

 

Dance Floor

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 canít dance will
develop unfit toes & legs
Those who shy away from light
must remain in darkness

I donít want to come out
of my bones, flesh & skin
Inside dazzles in light, dance,
laughter.
Itís 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  

 

 


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