Respect My Magic & Other Poetry by Linda M. Crate

Online Open Mic – 2021

It is important to focus on inner strength and self worth when outside elements fight against it. Linda M. Crate addresses this today in her awesome poetry!

My Favorite Line: “stop breaking my wings because you don’t want black feathers in your garden.”

respect my magic
you only want my magic
when it is butterflies,
laughing sunlit afternoons,
and creeks glittering and welcoming;

you do not want my thorns
or my thistles or my darkness

you worship the light
but without the darkness
she wouldn’t exist

we all have each of them in us—
so why do you shrink away
from every spell of my darkness
as if it is the monster that will
devour you?

i am more than softness and petals
sometimes i am sharpness and claws,
but that doesn’t mean you’re right
and i am wrong;

you are wrong for trying to push
me into your boxes and form me into
someone or something else.
linda m. crate

stop breaking my wings
when i am love and light
full of flowers and music
everyone wants a piece
of my enchantment,

but when i am wrath and rage
full of thorns and claws
everyone wants me to be
calm and docile;

as if there is not a time
for peace and a time for war—

i fight for my freedom
should appreciate my wilds
and my ferocity as much as
my clouds and my castles

because all of them are a
part of me,
but you want to cut and paste pieces
of me until you form a perfect being;

i wish you could see that i am
fully formed as i am—

stop breaking my wings
because you don’t want black
feathers in your garden.
-linda m. crate

it is then that they beg for my light
my love is
deep and i am
and i am told that i am

but i am not only a
fierce warrior and goddess
but i am full of light magic, too—

it’s just no one takes me
until i sing the song of sirens
or bite like a vampire;

no one wants to listen
to my rose petals
or the lyrics of my birds
until they’ve pushed me and i have
fallen deep into the oceans of my rage
it is then that they beg for my light.
-linda m. crate

no matter my shade or scars
you want my joy
and happiness,

but sometimes i am
stranded in the

and i need people
who appreciate
my magic no matter
what form she takes
rather than those who only
want me to bind myself
into someone else for their

i am not only the flower,
but also the thorn;

and i need someone who can
understand i will always
fight and advocate for myself because
i am beautiful

no matter my shades or scars.
-linda m. crate

if you can’t help me, leave me be
you claim you want
me to be happy,
but i don’t know if that’s
always true;

when i follow my dreams
and walk in dark forests
you seem to think that i am

walking in places i should
not go—

instead of trusting me
or the process,
you doubt me every step
of the way which makes this
journey all the more

until i am able to manage
the thing you said i couldn’t—

and then you want to say you
never doubted me or my skills,
but my magic and i know you’re
-linda m. crate


Linda M. Crate’s works have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies both online and in print. She is the author of seven poetry chapbooks, the latest of which is: the samurai (Yellow Arrow Publishing, October 2020). She’s also the author of the novel Phoenix Tears (Czykmate Books, June 2018). She has published three  full-length poetry collections Vampire Daughter (Dark Gatekeeper Gaming, February 2020), The Sweetest Blood (Cyberwit, February 2020), and Mythology of My Bones (Cyberwit, August 2020)
Attachments area

Will – Visual Art by Ci Barros

Online Open Mic – 2021

Sensational is the first word that comes to mind when I look at the work of Ci Barros! She uses a combination of illustration, light, water and photography to bring an image to life. This art titled, Will, fills me with the feelings of incredible strength and graceful perseverance.

This work belongs to the “Elements” Collection (Atelier D’Arte Ci Barros)


Ci Barros

I am a “Visual Artist” and a Writer from Portugal. I make llustrations, Drawn Prints, Paintings, Artistic Photography and I also write Poetry. 

My artistic journey includes Exhibitions in physical and virtual spaces, national and international participations. Two poetic and illustrative books, in my own name, as well as participation in several Anthologies of poetry at national level, in addition to my participation, equally poetic and illustrative, in the local newspaper. My Artistic Context is based on Social Reflection and on topics connected to the notion of Sustainability, on the defense of the Rights of Women and the Protection of Children. Likewise, my “Social Project – Ci Barros”, through art and culture, promotes mental health (individual and collective). 


Fragments of Uncertainty & Other Poetry by Ivan Peledov

Online Open Mic – 2021

Ponder with me the exciting writings of Ivan Peledov! He paints wonderous abstract pictures that transform perspective.

My Favorite Line: “Behold the horror of flying books in the tiny teacups of the world.”

Fragments of Uncertainty


No one wants to notice 

four deformed angels 

filming the same small world,

reading books to our ancestors,

vivisecting time.


There is a mongrel car without a steering wheel

in the middle of defaced music.

The hiding sun is full of burning cash. 

The tongues of water are sweet

at the bottom of a vase.


An army of dead composers 

invades the moon.

What can we do? 

Geese don’t trust the skyline

or the language of icy roofs.


At night the residents fry ponderous vegetables 

in sizeless pans. The pants of a coyote 

have managed to deceive a couple of stars. 

The homeless have long forgotten when they 

touched the earth the last time. 

Behold the horror of flying books

in the tiny teacups of the world.

The Rest of It

And now the eye of the Moon

is hidden deep in the silent tale

of a mad grasshopper, drunk 

with her afternoon sneezes.

Herons inhale reflections of thunder 

in the rivers the stars have never seen 

and the raindrops fail to paint.

Gods bless all the sunken boats.


Ivan Peledov is a poet living in Colorado. He has been published in Unlikely Stories, Eunoia Review, Sonic Boom, Illuminations, and other magazines.


Social media links:

Taken For Granted by Tali Cohen Shabtai

Online Open Mic -2021

Come take a look at the work of Tali Cohen Shabtai! Her well versed and relatable poetry is an inspiring way to start the week as well as the new month.

My Favorite Line: “The nature of loss is measured by its power of its permanence, and no other. “

Taken For Granted

Tali Cohen Shabtai 

Where I live 

one step 

is needed for effort and not multiple steps 

to my apartment. 

So, whoever lost me intentionally or who inadvertently 

you should have known 

that not everyone tries twice. 

The nature of loss is measured by its power of its permanence, 

and no other. 

Also in the work of writing, you receive a “blueprint,” before the next step so if you do not 

know what you are stepping on only when you complete the step do not rush to look 

for me 

I am already striding to another direction of the compass. 

I don’t need to alert 

those who do 


I cannot be reached 

after one 

less goodbye. 

This may be a metaphor 

like a cul-de-sac 

where the route has no continuity and signs showing that 

at the beginning of the road 

when humanity 

notices it only after 


300 meters. 

So, really,

just misunderstood. 

Taken for granted? 

Really, don’t take me for granted.


Tali Cohen Shabtai was born in Jerusalem, Israel, and is an international poet of high esteem with works translated into many languages. 

 She is the author of three bilingual volumes of poetry, “Purple Diluted in a Black’s Thick”(2007), “Protest” (2012) and “Nine Years From You”(2018).  

A fourth volume is forthcoming in 2021.  She has lived many years in Oslo, Norway, and in the U.S.A. 

Lag & Other Poetry by A. Whittenberg

Online Open Mic – 2021

A. Whittenberg’s style of writing immediately pulls you in. Each poem invokes the type contemplation that by the time you reach the end, you are excited to see what is in the next one.

My Favorite Line: “The balance of enlightenment is more enlightenment, The balance of more enlightenment is transcendence”


When you realize,
‘Please return the library books
They’re on the table’
As her last words
Balances every ”I love you” she’d given

Instead of goodbye
The incessant, familiarity of instruction
the sum
of my mother

Watching Jordan’s Fall

… God, I hate November.
All the hope I had hoped
against hope for Jordan.

Dad beat Jordan, to
straighten him out, to show
Jordan, to silence him.

My brother lived until the next
season, onto the next winter,
very quiet like a fallen leaf.

Water’s Wine

The balance of bliss is pain
The balance of pain is enlightenment
The balance of enlightenment is more enlightenment
The balance of more enlightenment is transcendence
The balance of transcendence is alienation
The balance of alienation is bliss

In it

We’re all in this together
we’re all in this together
we’re all not in this together
because after
we’re not in this together…
we will surely


shame on you
for eating flesh
the protein of your friends
(at least, you didn’t eat your sister)
but come on — what were you thinking?
to maintain
survival excuses everything except when it doesn’t
after your plane crashed into the Andes Mountains
after the impact, the crush of metal, the raging fire drowned by the snow
more bad luck
the avalanche, the avalanches
being lost, being broken
and you can’t eat the rugby balls and the plane food is gone
the hunger, the relentless cold, the hunger, the screams,
where was the utility?
civilization sent search parties that couldn’t find you
nourishment was only a 60 mile walk away or at least the goat herders
you had to find your own cure
you saved yourself


A Whittenberg is a Philadelphia native who has a global perspective. If she wasn’t an author she’d be a private detective or a jazz singer. She loves reading about history and true crime. Her other novels include Sweet ThangHollywood and MaineLife is FineTutored and The Sane Asylum.

Royalty & Other Poetry by Dee Allen

Onlin Open Mic – 2021

Come read the great work of Dee Allen! His poetry stands strong with its deep imagery and important topics.

My Favorite Line: “We’re made for Freedom like our tribal royal forebears were.”


                                                   There are no more

                                              kingdoms or dynasties

                                              displayed on any map.

                                                        Mass Media

                                                       has them all.

                                             Fiefdoms in abundance.

                                                 Cults of personality

                                                  in high-definition

                                                          ultra 4K.

                                          The beautiful people seen

                                        on the flat television screen

                                                      the ordinary

                                            less glamourous would

                                         follow follow follow follow


                                                     For as long as

                                                    cameras flash,


                                                  & the paparazzi

                                                   have the tacky

                                                 red carpet ready,

                                                  actors & models

                                            will be kings & queens


                                                    their children

                                             princes & princesses

                                                          & their

                                        multitudes of fans, willing

                                               subjects to royalty.

                                                   W: 4.19. 2020

                          REV: Martin Luther King Birthday 2021



I’m feeling confessional.

So I should 

Break down and confess:

I was an abused child.

As a child, I was constantly abused

By other people’s children.

W: 9.29.11

                                  EVERY TWENTY YEARS

                                          in America, it seems,


in ourselves

     as African people

          w/ African culture

                 escapes from

                           the steel cage

                                         Oppression forged for it

                                                   & flees

                                                         @ large

                                                                from state

                                                                          to state

And it should. We’re made for Freedom

like our tribal


                                forebears were.

After all, 

we carry

             traces of

                   the Motherland

                         in our blood

                                   & decolonised minds—

W: 11.22.17

                                                          Dee Allen.

African-Italian performance poet based in Oakland, California U.S.A.

Active on the creative writing & Spoken Word tips since the early 1990s. Author of 5 books [ Boneyard, Unwritten Law, Stormwater and Skeletal Black, all from POOR Press, and from Conviction 2 Change Publishing, Elohi Unitsi ] and 34 anthology appearances [ including Your Golden Sun Still Shines, Rise, Extreme, The Land Lives Forever, Civil Liberties United, Trees In A Garden Of Ashes, Colossus: Home, Impact and the newest from York, England’s own Stairwell Books, Geography Is Irrelevant ] under his figurative belt so far.

Typing Lesson by Carl “Papa” Palmer

Online Open Mic – 2021

Carl “Papa” Palmer shares with us today a fun and informative writing on typing! Take a look and enjoy this tidbit of knowledge!

Artist Statement:

During stay-at-home lockdown my neighbor found her Mom’s typewriter in a basement box.
She posted her discovery on social media, amazed at so many comments askingwhat it was.
I shared my attached broadsheet with her, thought you’d enjoy it, too.


Carl “Papa” Palmer of Old Mill Road in Ridgeway, Virginia, lives in University Place, Washington.

He is retired from the military and Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) enjoying life as “Papa”

to his grand descendants and being a Franciscan Hospice volunteer. 

PAPA’s MOTTO: Long Weekends Forever!

Who Am I & Other Poetry by Lynn White

Online Open Mic -2021

Lynn White is a shining poetry with the blend of self reflection and reflection of the world into the bite size pieces we need. Come read her wonderful work to start your week off well!

My Favorite Line: “Would I want to face the person hindsight made me.”

Who Am I

When did I last know who I am?
I wonder if it when I was a child,
when I made up stories
from my imagination.
Was I separate then
from the imaginary children
with imaginary parents
and imaginary friends.
where my story began
and where I ended.
I don’t remember.

Perhaps the story ended before I began.
Perhaps the two began together.
Perhaps they may end together,
or eternally
I cannot say.
I never could.

Did I ever know who I am?

First published in Literary Yard, October 2016

I Am A Child

I am a child of the revolution
created by the wake of
fascism and imperialism,
that sought to construct
a more just society.

I am a child numbed by poverty,
stultified by working class conformity,
of a mother who wanted better for me,
but also wanted to keep me the same.

I am a child of these contradictions
who became a rebel
in the cultural revolution
of the rock and roll generation.
Who was liberated by student life,
by control of fertility,
by other places,
by the music and art
all parents hated.

I am still that child.
This is what made me.
This is what shaped me and
became part of my present,
became part of my future.

Sometimes I have tried to escape it.
Sometimes I still do.


We thought we’d done it!
Created the basis for a future
based on peace and love and civil rights.
Even a pandemic couldn’t stop us at Woodstock.
We were unstoppable!
In diverse countries
we saw the rebels become statesmen.
We thought the struggle was over.
And now with hindsight,
I wonder if we would do it again
now we know what happened next.
And if I could go back
with that knowledge,
would I want to?
Would I want
to face
the person hindsight made me.
And with hindsight,
would I be there for me to find?

First published in Gyroscope Review, Fall, 2020


Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud ‘War Poetry for Today’ competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Capsule Stories, Light Journal and So It Goes.


Find Lynn at: and

Forever Edging Closer to You – Original Music by Coleman Row

Online Open Mic -2021

Pandemics can’t stop the creative inspiration of Coleman Row! Recorded by sending clips back and forth to each other, these musicians have created an amazing new song and I know you will all enjoy it just as much as I do. Check out their new song below:


Informed in equal parts by heartfelt folk ballads and anthemic hard rock, Scottish folk duo Coleman Row merge trad fiddle, rocky guitar riffs and soaring vocals. The result is an entrancing sound made intimate as it is all performed by just two musicians.
Since their official formation in September of 2019, Coleman Row have been regularly appearing at Open Mics and busking across Glasgow. Most recently, the duo have been writing and releasing new music recorded during lockdown.


Facebook – @colemanrowband 

Instagram – @colemanrowband

Youtube –

Pineapple Crush & Other Poetry by Adrian Slonaker

Online Open Mic -2021

Come ponder with me the fantastic poetry of Adrian Slonaker! He told me of how the first and third poems were created specifically of this time in winter and around the pre-Lenten Carnival season, making it the perfect time to read his great work.

My Favorite Line: “I test my winter-worn eyes in
the brightness of Carnaval-stained daylight,
my direction-impaired feet in a frazzle of plazas and calles,
my Anglo ears in a labyrinth of Rioplatense voseo,
my demoralized morale on a continent not blackened by
blemishes in devotion or family humiliations.”

“Pineapple Crush”

As a city shivers within stabbing distance of that dastardly Neptune’s trident,
Nor’easters savage the Atlantic lands laden with lobsters and fiddlehead ferns
that lure tourists in the mild months of non-pandemic years,
sending residents puffy in parkas and anoraks
scurrying up ice-licked streets and stairs to stores and kitchens
prepped with pineapple pop because bubbly sugar highs and
fake flavours artfully suggesting sunshine and sultry hues
and heat not expelled by a power-gulping appliance
deliver vitality in Voltaire’s “few acres of snow.”

“The Lord Exists on Tinder”

A swarm of photos whooshed past
at warp speed while a
spindly finger swiped through
one hundred sixty-one kilometres’
worth of
prickly pickup lines and
fish and antlers and
telltale scammers
and less conspicuous
transaction seekers
as the teal stars and rose dots of
superlikes and matches morphed into
motley messages,
one from a musclebound millennial
called Andrew
delving into
a discussion of God
and His unfazed indifference to
the facial hair preferences prescribed by
preachers of fanaticism
plus a plea
for theological live-and-let-livism
voiced among the emoticons and

“When Vanishing Acts Were Possible”

Across the world’s waistband,
beyond the Tropics of Cancer and
Capricorn that I crossed on an overnight
flight with gnarled nerves and a wheeled valise,
I test my winter-worn eyes in
the brightness of Carnaval-stained daylight,
my direction-impaired feet in a frazzle of plazas and calles,
my Anglo ears in a labyrinth of Rioplatense voseo,
my demoralized morale on a continent not blackened by
blemishes in devotion or family humiliations.
In the era before email and Facebook,
when an enervated soul could sink into a curtain of cigarette smoke
at dusk and become lost to follow-up without
the tendrils of friend requests
or the sneaky snares of search engines,
I could trek off the craggy cliff of a crisis
and escape to a new lifescape beckoning me
with confidence and oblivion.


Dreaming about palm trees, rose quartz and life’s quirky mysteries, language professional Adrian Slonaker lives in snowy Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada. Adrian’s work, which has been nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize, has appeared in WINK: Writers in the Know, Gnashing Teeth, The Pangolin Review and others.