Poems submitted in 2026

by Bridget Martin, 2026

 

We fell in love

During the heat wave

Of 25’

I’ve always craved

The fever of June

Our hands stick together

A mixture of ice cream sunscreen and sweat

Act as glue

“I’ll never let go of you”

A joke but it’s true

Because I don’t want you to

We sit in the sand

Of my favorite beach

A small sacred place

I only show those

Who’ve earned my trust

Our second date

I’ve learned to listen

To my instincts

That tell me that it’s right

Falling in love fast

The rush of it

Pulses in my veins

The summer heat

Does not compare to

To the flame in my heart

The look in your eyes

Tells me you feel it too

“Let’s do this again tomorrow”

And we do

by Tom Bradley, 2026

Don’t damn the darkness
until you know what’s there
because to know what’s there
you need the light
and when you have the light
you’ve conquered the dark

 

by Harvey Heilbrun, 2026

Let it Rain
Let the rain fall from clouds so gray.
Let it push away problems one more day.
Let it cleanse the soul, and free our mind.
Disrupt life’s pattern, for a different kind.
Let the light appear when the rain does go
Have the pattern shaped for a kinder flow
That brings peaceful thoughts which fill the air
With renewed hope that rids despair
To show the world that we still care!

by Tom Bradley, 2026

Interruption

A toy is a distraction from the mundane

It extracts the dull and creates joy—though temporary

But don’t worry child—for there’s a new one to come

But

What to do when your child retires for the day

 And you are occupied with burdensome thoughts

Thoughts that can’t be distracted by a toy

                                                                         —t.f.b.

by LM Anderson, 2026

 

There is a silence where your voice once lived,

not empty… just echoing with you.

I still reach for you in ordinary moments—

a song on the radio,

a joke you would’ve loved,

the way the light hits the kitchen table at dusk.

You are everywhere

and nowhere I can touch.

I don’t know when love

became something that stood at a distance,

something that folded its arms

instead of running toward me.

But mine never learned how to leave.

It waits…

soft, steady,

like a porch light left on

long after midnight—

not asking, not demanding,

just hoping

you remember the way home.

I replay the years like photographs—

your hand in mine,

your laughter spilling into the air,

the way you once needed me

without hesitation.

And I wonder

when did I become

someone you could live without?

Still…

if you ever turn back,

you won’t find anger here.

Just a mother

who never stopped loving you,

even in the quiet,

even in the distance,

even in the ache

of not being yours

the way I used to be.

I’m here for you…always.

Love,

Mom

by Rebecca Pearce, 2026

There are things you’ll never know

There are words I’ll never say

I can’t find a voice for how much you’ve hurt me

Maybe because I don’t want to hurt you

Isn’t that strange?

 

Sometimes I think I could lose you entirely

Sometimes I think I would be better off

I certainly did so much without you

And yet I feel as though I owe you something

Isn’t that strange?

 

You say you want a friendship

But I didn’t come into your life already made

You raised me and shaped me and made me who I am

But now you berate me for not being what you expected

Isn’t that strange?

 

A parent asking for admiration

I think that’s strange

A parent with no desire to protect

I think that’s strange

 

You can’t have what you didn’t earn.

by Tom Bradley, 2026

 

NARY A GLANCE
NOR A GAZE
NOR DOES SHE SHADOW MY THRESHOLD—
YET ALONE BREACH ITS BOUNDARY

by Nicole R, 2026

I forgave you, but I’m not sitting at that table again

because forgiveness was my closure, not your invitation.

I let go of the anger not for you,

but for the parts of me that are still soft,

still loving, still becoming

the parts I refuse to harden just to survive what hurt me.

I made peace with what happened,

even when it reshaped me in ways I never asked for,

and in that quiet rebuilding,

I learned what I should have known all along

that healing isn’t just letting go,

it’s learning where not to return.

Because just because I’ve released the bitterness

doesn’t mean I’ll go back to the place that created it.

Some things don’t change.

Some conversations never grow.

Some respect never arrives.

And I’ve come too far

to keep shrinking just to belong somewhere

I was never truly valued.

I can forgive you and still choose distance.

I can wish you well and still walk away.

Because growth isn’t proving how much I can endure

it’s deciding I deserve better.

And sometimes the most powerful thing I can do

isn’t loud or dramatic at all

it’s standing up quietly,

pushing the chair in,

and never sitting there again.

by Susan Blake, 2026

Blinding white snow mounds Harding, as does my soul.

Awaiting for peace.
Like the snowflakes, peace swirls around us to come to rest on the hopefuls.

A Moment

Hearing the birds singing.
Seeing the deer roaming

The moment the birds stop their songs and the deer pause, I too reflect on the beauty that surrounds us.