Being A Poet by Sushant Thapa
Allow me to be the poet of the whispers/ Before being a poet of the words./ Allow me to be the poet of the
From New York by Patrick Tong
Central Park is towerless and trailing today, tourists tangling together onto a cul-de-sac lawn. From afar, I steepen
Nuit Blanche by John Muro
Late fall and near the edge of sleep/ I take in, from behind a latticed/ Window, a courtyard covered with/ The
Pizzicato in E minor by Isabella Melians
fly beneath stratus clouds/ on elephant ears/ (mind the loosened girth/ wrapped beneath her torso)// let these
The Architect’s Lament by John Daugherty
I am the architect of this poem/ My blueprints say that/ It is a meta plan/ I hope you enjoy my design.// Now I
Walking in Fog by M.J.Iuppa
In the gloom of a Spring morning,/ I feel the slow-moving fog wrap/ around me, hiding me inside/ these woods
Horizon by Aneek Chatterjee
In the horizon I see black birds/ perched on dry branches of a tree/ and/ red clouds threatening/ life below.
Friends by Lois Perch Villemaire
Friends are bubbles of oxygen,/ when it’s hard to breathe,/ taking a deep inhale becomes easier./ Friends are
Art Forms by Margaret Boles
Slow motion/ Camera/ Fascinating.../ The ball/ Dropping/ Into water.../ The cat/ Landing/ Unsurprisingly/ On four paws...
Ode to Jupiter by Sarah Henry
O Jupiter, you’re/ the big and toasty/ king of planets./ If you were any/ larger, you’d be/ a star centered/ in a solar
Rx for Healing by Jenevieve Carlyn Hughes
This recovery will require/ a kind of alchemy// Of clay/ & kinetic energy// The repairing/ of sinew,// The
moonflower by Kayleigh Sim
i water my moonflowers when midnight falls,/ watching the wilted bulbs bloom into full/ moons. there comes
Mirage by Christina Pan
She was forever captivated/ By the man on the mountain./ Every day, without fail,/ He would lean against a large
The Arctic Circle by Susan Kay Anderson
Tipping but not falling/ a little tilt and it became creamier—/ a cave holding light. How it melted then/ and
My Life by Nma Goran Dhahir
“A cup of strong coffee please,” to overcome the bitterness of life,/ “Mild coffee,” to think about what’s up in
Horizon by Giya Sood
The sun dwells daintily on the border of the sea,/ Streaking the sky with hues of pink for as far the eye can see./ As
Fruit by Eli Slover
In a handbasket,/ in an old gray truck,/ a line of dust the only/ proof it leaves behind,/ out in the beige desert
Venice by Petra F. Bagnardi
Lady of water, artwork of stones and spears./ She, survivor of wars and ages,/ now drowning in tears of men.
Reflections by Susan Mcclellan
Do mirrors show what is true/ Or a perceived version of you.// When you look inside/ What do you have to hide.
We Make Our Own Beetroot by Maeve McKenna
A jar of beetroot, given in kindness/ by a friend, has wintered/ in a kitchen press for three years./ When I
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About Us
Trouvaille Review is an online journal that publishes the poetry of poets across the globe. For free, you may send us your poems, and if selected, we will publish your poems on this website. We strive to let the contributors know our decision within 24 hours.