“J.E.M. 04/20/1984-02/16/2020” by Summer Miller

I miss your embrace,
Your hugs always healed me.
I miss the bond we had,
And how you always knew who I could be.

I miss the drunk moments,
And how we’d always raise hell.
I miss all the crazy moments,
And all the music we’d always yell.

I miss the unconditional love,
And how you always helped me be better.
I miss always playing with Sugar,
Still can’t believe you’re up there with her.

I miss all the belief you had in me,
And when we thought you’d always be here.
I miss the words you gave,
And how you always made sure I had nothing to fear.

I miss getting an extra sauce
Because you’d always demand your own.
I miss always making everything a race,
Now I play these games alone.

I miss all the comfort you provided,
And how you always gave it to me straight.
I miss wondering what bottle we were gonna drink
And always stumbling in too late.

I miss having you by my side,
And how you always made me feel loved.
I miss our childhood on Trudy Street,
And all the pain you numbed.

Quite honestly I just miss you,
And now more than ever man.
We’ll be together again someday,
It’s always been part of our plan.

Bio: I wrote this poem about my cousin Jeremy Edward Miller. On February 16, 2020 just four days before my birthday I found out I had lost the cousin who was more like a brother to me. My world shattered. He would’ve been 38 this year on April 20. I wrote this on his birthday for him. I miss him dearly, I wrote this to remember him. Thank you so much for reading.

Categorized as poems

“The frail flower you made beautiful” by Carrie Ackerman

The flowers in my garden lay frail,
struggling to bloom,
and there you were, the sun that forced me to consume.

The ever so needing,
water and Earth in the form of love,
that made my flowers grow far above

The fence line I’d only seen as broken,
he walked through the gates with the reassurance,
That never again would I know another disappearance.

Instead, he showed me flowers,
In a forest I never knew I could walk through, where the most beautiful flowers grew.

These flowers, evergreen and overflowing,
that made the flowers in my garden bloom,
so much I began to run out of room.

I knew something had to be done soon,
and he showed up ready to harvest.
The thorns, the weeds, everything that was hardest.

He plucked with such ease,
with gentle hands that should of felt pain, showed me instead that my garden will never die again.

The broken fence line, now a white picket fence,
Painted with names and stamped with memories we’d always adore.
My flowers would die no more.

And the look in his golden eyes,
showed me a future so bright,
That together him and I would always see the light.

Even in the darkest of the night, when no growth could come of my flowers,
he stood next to me with unforeseen powers.

Powers that would not only help my garden grow,
but to help a flower already founded,
never again will see a sky that was clouded.

You were crowned the harvester,
and now because of you my garden glows.
Thank you for being the reason my flowers will forever grow.

Categorized as poems

“Clearly Love” by Linda Joy Walder

Sometimes I get so frustrated,
I swear,
one day
I will disappear
like the puff of smoke
my breath becomes
in cold morning air.

This morning though,
marveling at how thick and luscious
your hair looks in direct sunlight,
I am distracted.

As a practical matter there is dirty laundry to face,
and who is responsible for turning the lights off?
But right at this moment,
standing still,
watching you enter the shower,
steam mystifying the sumptuous layers you’ve acquired,
I take off my tee-shirt to join you.

I know how you want this to go,
sinuously slowly,
at your pace,
and that’s alright with me.

After you depart,
leaving me alone to navigate
through the lusty vapor,
I am surprisingly okay with that too.

Truly, you amaze me,
how you move in and out of my life,
evaporating into mist,
then suddenly,
like coastal fog over the ocean,
returning just before the moon rises.

Categorized as poems

“The Crabs” by Ann Bailey

The tempest came to butcher Cain,
Its coast she would encroach.
The raindrops tapped the window pane
To signal her approach.

The crabs felt her calamity
And climbed out of the dregs—
A rasping, raucous family,
Each member on ten legs.

The interloping arthropods
Were quick to seize the bay,
And on the beach, a lightning rod
Threw light upon their prey.

A seaside shack of Spanish stone
Stood sturdy in the squall.
The door swung when the wind was blown
And beckoned to them all.

They swarmed the beachside bungalow
And made their home inside.
They found the shelter apropos
For keeping out the tide.

And each began to wonder why
They’d lingered for so long
In dusky, frigid waters by
A seaside warm and strong.

The squatters in their swindling
Found rations foul and fresh,
For in the bedroom, dwindling,
Was gray, mephitic flesh.

Pincers picking at the bones,
The creatures took the beast.
A sailor snared by Davy Jones
Became their fetid feast.

But digging through his every part,
An extra piece they stole.
For when they ate the fisher’s heart,
The crabs consumed his soul.

Day by day they mimicked Man
Within the savage shrine.
A beastly and unnatural clan,
Departing from the brine.

They spoke just as the fisher had
In hollow, husky sounds.
An intonation low and mad
Of voices through the grounds.

They drank his drinks and played his games
And read his magazines.
Sentient, they took on names
As rain came through the screens.

The tempest finally touched the plain,
Each villain warm inside,
But wind and rain devoured Cain,
Not one allowed to hide.

The sinners in a tick of shock
Dispersed throughout the room,
And God above expelled the flock
Back toward the ocean’s womb.

It washed away their human ways,
Absorbed their every fault.
They slipped back into early days
Of blood and mud and salt.

Categorized as poems

“The Stranger at 3 AM” by Steve Pelcman

The Stranger at 3 AM
(A father with Alzheimer’s)

I know that it is you
because I can smell your age
behind the closed door
and hear your shuffling feet

go back and forth
between our bedrooms,
a distance you cannot measure
in the dark.

And so you stand there
gasping for the slender
light that reaches you
from under my door,

and we both knew
you came to tell me
you were dying again,
that you were living out

someone else’s life
that you were greedy
for every last drop of light,
that you were too afraid

to feel safe
and that in not knowing
what to do
you knew to stand there

softly breathing against the wood
practicing being noticed.

Steven Pelcman
like water to STONE Adelaide Books 2017

Categorized as poems

A new poem by Summer Miller

People have no idea
They don’t see how I’m feeling
But inside I’m dying
I have no idea how I’m dealing

There’s so much pain in my heart
There’s so many bad memories
They haunt me consistently
My mind always goes to extremities

I’ve come to carry a blank face
People are unable to see any emotion
I don’t like people to feel pity for me
Because it creates a big commotion

I’ve thought about different ways out
I have these thoughts most days
I have nobody to turn to
Mostly because nobody stays

The worst part is that I know I need help
But how do you ask?
How could somebody possibly understand
When I’m always wearing a mask?

They’ll say it’s for attention
But I’ve written letters goodbye
So what do I do
When life sounds better in the sky

I don’t know if I can come back from this
It’s never ending, it doesn’t stop
It never goes away, it stays in my thoughts
One day soon I’ll just pop

I don’t want to hurt anybody
But I always want a way out
I don’t know if I can continue
Because I’ll always have a doubt

About whether it’s all worth it
I question this endlessly
I feel I have no purpose
I breeze around pointlessly

Nobody can save me
I hope I’ve left a mark
Because one day
My whole world will go dark

Categorized as poems

“Vacancy” By Alexandra Peters

Saying there is a hole
in my heart would imply
you complete me.
No, that isn’t so.

Better for me to say
the space for you remains,
but your belongings are

You will visit, but not stay.

Hearing my voice echo
off the walls
will take getting used to.
The distance
I made between us
will take getting used to.

My solace will come in
the rearranging,
the redecorating,
the repainting.

My solace is that
I will eventually adapt.

Categorized as poems

“The Arcane Wood” By Grace Payne

Saying there is a hole
in my heart would imply
you complete me.
No, that isn’t so.

Better for me to say
the space for you remains,
but your belongings are

You will visit, but not stay.

Hearing my voice echo
off the walls
will take getting used to.
The distance
I made between us
will take getting used to.

My solace will come in
the rearranging,
the redecorating,
the repainting.

My solace is that
I will eventually adapt.

Categorized as poems

“Chasing Purpose” By Corissa Rogers

I suppose if I had a positive thought to cancel out each negative thought, i could use that concept to create a lifetime of chasing purpose.
When things get rough, If I could convince myself of a better tomorrow.
When I feel lonely if I could convince myself of having people who love me.
When I get cold If I could convince myself that summer is around the corner.
If I get hungry that I could convince myself to eat,
When I get tired, that I could convince myself to rest.
if I could turn my hopelessness into hopefulness.
If I could just convince myself that there’s these simple solutions to all my problems then I can convince myself to hold on
Another day.

Categorized as poems

“Green Light” And “Defiance” By Bloom McGrew

Green Light

Echos of your soft soul leave me yearning,
Whispers cascade of your presence,
Broken fragments of flames burning,
The smell of sweet peas and pleasance,

Fostering the mirror of your grace,
Belief that I could soak up your sunshine,
Desiring the warmth within your embrace,
Pondering on the holiness in your divine,

Losing sight of my own truth and belonging,
Fires in my heart intensify through your being,
Growing this unpredictable sense of longing,
For your love so confining yet so freeing


Passion pumping through my veins,
delicate flowers under my lace,
feeling the chaos behind the chains,
madness brewing at the taste,

Hunger devouring my senses,
amist the fog, I lost control,
melting away each and every defense,
my heart filled with gold,
remembering that it is whole

Categorized as poems