CURRENT ISSUE - 1.3
WRITE THE WORLD WEBSITE
GROCERY LIST OF ESSENTIALS
by MARGHERITA MORO (Italy)
The grass stings my thighs and whispers at me to move my legs so that it may look upon the stars
by ELLA GREEN (New Zealand)
I try to think of death as an ocean; uncharted and unknown, but vast.
RETURN TO MY TREES
by ELEANOR LEWIS (Wales)
i have come back
to the village i swore i would never see again
WOOD AND WATER
by ENLING LIAO (Australia)
Late afternoon. I never knew a whisper, soft and sweet, could sing
by ELIZABETH BUNTIN (United States)
There is a certain inscrutability in the mercurial ebb and flow of life in the woods, an unassuming cadence that settles just beyond my naive circumspection. The dry sweep of the wind’s touch is fond and insidious in turns . . .
by MAI MCGAW (United States)
On a frosty October morning, I walk to a field
And lie flat on my back in the dewy grass.
by ROSIE JONES (United Kingdom)
A poem is when a scattering of swallows suddenly form a perfect v.
A poem is the angle which makes dew on a rose petal look like diamonds.