M.A. Schaffner… Antocracy



Nothing upon the grasshopper’s back more
than the resentment of ants, their taxes
ever squeezing out empathy for others
who earned their pensions the old fashioned way
chewing leaves all summer while the scouts crept
slowly back to the city, laboring
like scarabs under their burdens of dung,
all for the drones and the queen’s monopoly
on breeding and leisure. It’s not enough
to suffer such a dull career, you must
blame those who have the freedom of the fields
as if they were the ones who made you ants,
and the queen were some wise benefactress
giving you a job and proxy future.
You have no future, and no options now
if you believe you really need a queen.


M. A. Schaffner has had poems published in Shenandoah, Prairie Schooner, Agni, Poetry Ireland, Poetry Wales, and elsewhere. Other writings include the poetry collection The Good Opinion of Squirrels, and the novel War Boys. Schaffner spends most days in Arlington, Virginia or the 19th century.

Copyright © 2016 by M. A. Schaffner







George Freek… Hymn



I hear a blue jay scream
from a nearby tree.
His mate believes
they are hosannas,
thrilled by such a
sweet melody.
Perhaps it resembles
what we call poetry.
I can’t see a breeze,
but I feel it as it
ruffles the leaves.
My wife is dead,
but I feel she’s beside me,
when I return to bed.
I can’t say I know.
I only pray it is so.


Copyright © 2016 by George Freek







Spirit Ariela Oliver… Falling



Rain is falling all around
The dew drops from my mindv

Plop plop plops
goes the drops

The plot of my story.

There is a dry spot to sit
I feel rainy today
who knows when the rain will fall on me?
There is a fear of getting wet, cold

and being unable to get dry and warm again.

I can not control the rain.
I am a leaf on a tree
an ever-changing leaf.
Perfect in imperfection,
yet unfinished in every way
strange and beautiful
unique unto a leaf on a tree

and the elements that shape it.

I don’t know just when I lost control,
but do know I was afraid.
A fearful leaf on a tree,
ss-shivering in the wind.
Awake full of color, full of sound
floating falling downdowndown.


Spirit Ariela Olivier is a poet and filmmaker from Los Angeles, California. She has been writing poetry since she was old enough to hold a crayon. She writes poems without a wall to bounce them off. Her work is an invitation for you to peruse the secrets of her soul. She currently resides in sunny Los Angeles. This is her second work to be published.

Copyright © 2015 by Spirit Ariela Olivier