Untitled Poetry by Natasha Epstein

Watch the people
with their petty fights
Watch the towns
the little arguments about what belongs to who.

Watch the cities
the states
the countries
all fighting
all yelling
all bombing each other into oblivion
why can’t they stop?

Why can’t they
just sit back, just watch,
observe the world
zoom out
they’ll see
see beyond their own for once.

Look at our planet
It’s just a revolving sphere.
What if you could just
reach out, touch it, and
turn it off kilter?

Imagine all of us
falling against each other,
against the sky.
Our entire lives flung into chaos
just because of

Characters by E.J. Aire

To close a book is to close a world.
The world goes flat and folds
Characters stuck between the pages.
Screaming silently, as loud as they can
No one hears them
No one can

You can’t close an e-book because they’re always closed
The characters are forever trapped
You can slip a tablet in your pocket
Hide the cover, hide the characters.
You can’t hide a book

To open a book is to fall
Fall into a world unto itself,
Words raining down upon the pages
Laying themselves on the paper to form a story
A tale of characters that will not be left asleep
Forever bound by the tomes that create them

Why are you holding that book? It’s time to leave.
I know it’s time to leave.
I’m taking them with me.
Taking whom?
The characters, sir.
The characters hidden in between the pages

Voices From Nightfall by T.K. Lawrence

Upon the antiquated ship,
under midnight’s blanket,
a ghostly wail arises
beneath the churning water.

In a tree, an owl perches
in the dark, about to strike as
he watches the shadows
stir beneath the roots.

A lost soul’s cry echoes
in the old manor’s attic.
No source or mortal found
to sing the siren’s eerie song.

That Book by Anonymous

“Take down this book and slowly read,” — W.B.Yeats

That book, the one on the wall,
the book that has recorded my life
with pictures and words, capturing memories.

That book, the one on the wall,
with pictures of me as a baby,
capturing my smiles and also my confusion.

My parents snapped picture after picture
of my first steps, and my first day of preschool.
They snapped picture after picture of my 5th grade graduation.
Picture after picture, always recording my life.

That book, the one on the wall,
is also filled with words.
Words describing who I am, and who I was,
recording the largest changes,
and the smallest.

The pictures and words that fill that book
cannot be replaced.

Because when I’m old and grey,
those pictures will be part of my lifeline to the past.

When I’m old and grey, the pictures and words
will help remind me of the memories I have made,
and the life I have lived.

When I’m old and grey,
I’ll be flipping through the pages, looking at the pictures,
reading the words.
Thinking about my life, recorded in a photo album.
Thinking about my life, recorded in a photo album, day after day.

That book, the one on the wall, is irreplaceable.