Cynara and Other Digital Art by Robella Ahmad

Still Shining

From Lahore, Pakistan comes magical artwork by Robella Ahmad! Take a glimpse at the sweet and compelling digital art pieces she has created!


Robella Ahmad is based in Lahore. She is a digital artist and a curator by profession, but a textile designer by degree. She has taken her curatorial training from Shakir Ali Museum, Pakistan National Council of Arts and O Art Space. She has assisted in numerous shows and residencies. She also is the founder and curator of E-Exhibitions which is an online platform for artists to display their work.

AOC – Original Music by Acoustic Librarian

Still Shining

The Acoustic Librarian has written a new song about a politician he admires! Within a world where political debates can get pretty heated online, he shows us a kind way to be supportive while having his voice heard. Go take a look!


She that Fox News loves to hate
And Republicans underestimate
‘Til they’re shut down in a Twitter debate!

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez,
Freshman Congresswoman,
Face of the Democratic Party,
So says the chosen one.

Part of a squad that’s taken some blame,
Asked to go back from where they came,
Even though she was born in New York
Like another famous name…

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez,
She’s an American, too!
Though she may have darker skin
And a different opinion than you.

Strong are her political gifts.
A presidential run is still a “what if”…
She’s only two months older
Than Taylor Swift!

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez,
Shake off the words of your foes!
Some can see that AOC
Spells “trouble” for the status quo.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez,
Freshman Congresswoman,
Face of the Democratic Party,
So says the chosen one.


Acoustic Librarian is a songwriter, open mic performer and technology librarian. He lives in Southern California with his wife and their two cats.

Follow This Artist:

Instagram: @acousticlibrarian
Twitter: @AcousticLBR

He Has Wings and He Can Fly & Other Poems by Ben Nardolilli

Still Shining

From New York, Ben Nardolilli writes from his heart with a kind of soothing longing. It is well worth your time to swing and sway with the flow of his word!

He Has Wings and He Can Fly

Logged out for inactivity, I promise you all
Something better, a more active
Version of me that has yet to be born

Oh how it struggles, listen for it, I know I do,
A shadow of my being
Who will get into the system and dance

In ways I never thought were possible before,
Keeping all the trip wires
Busy with contemplation over the next move

The Theory of Forms

Come, prove to me now that anything persists,
All I see are stabs and brief flights
At immortality and then the inevitable decay

But I am willing to consider new evidence if
You can bring it to me to peruse,
I am no judge, but a jury of one, at your attention

Perhaps something survives, perhaps something
Is able to go on despite efforts
To stop it from ceasing its drive onward to an end

Tell me, I want to find out what struggles
And wins against the sunset,
Not for harvest, but for personal contemplation

Ticker Tape

Dear office park towers, shake your floors
like branches and make these steps
of mine part of a parade,
fling out your waste of papers and posters,
drop them all and make them something
more than just idle kindling,
toss out the furniture, the desks and beds
which sit so heavy on your concrete ribs,
especially now, at night,
now that you are empty of unhappy people too,
whose nervous steps make your floors itch
I call out to you,
dear walls and edges of this would-be chasm,
rise up, collapse, and give me a shower

The Reference Section

Life’s instructional manual, everyone seeks it,
Those quick answers, or at least
An easy index to dig up the answers
Buried under reams of ponderous paragraphs

I don’t want that book, it’s not fun,
And there’s no telling if it’s up to date,
An instruction manual to life
Needs to be a living creature in its own right

So, I search for a different manual to follow,
A guidebook to dreams,
How to have them, how to shape them,
How to leave them when it’s time to wake up.

Expectations on Columbia Pike

Greet us when you see us,
We try our best to be a landmark

She will have red pants,
And I will have just as red a scarf

I will have facial hair of some kind,
A hat of some import

She will have henna on her hands,
No hat, but a yellow headband

The lost French poet and his mother,
This is what you will encounter

The talk flowing from you to me,
The singing supplied by she


Ben Nardolilli currently lives in New York City. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, The Northampton Review, Local Train Magazine, The Minetta Review, and Yes Poetry. He blogs at and is trying to publish a novel.

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Shade of Blue and Other Poems by Michael H. Brownstein

Still Shining

Roll with the Sunday vibes that bring color and expression into your next week with Michael H. Brownstein! His work can help lead you to that right kind of relaxation, giving fuel for motivation.

Shade of Blue

A constellation of sky,
the continuum of well-lit light,
a great sparkle and burst–
everywhere a line converges
diverges, re configures,
digests, ingests, links its fingers
as if a ball of music can be so rich,
solemn, full of this much restraint:

Everywhere nothing is heard,
but crystals can form into orbs,
glitter can transform into healing,
the energy of the muse, sodalite
binds itself with arrows of kyanite
and the hidden universe
of galaxies sighs within its walls
a music of one finger caressing
the palm of another, a light touch–

the tickle of Antigua blue, indigo,
cobalt, cyan, the shadow of what
might have been purple–a silent
kora with broken strings
and no one, no thing,
hears anyone, anything, breath.


When the storm came
it did not come with rain or hail,
nor did it bring wind and snow.
It less loose a lack of possibility,
an understatement of what was to come.

That was the day we really needed toilet paper
and the building we were considering
fell to a structural fire. That day
bleach vanished as did flour,
all kinds of facial masks, eggs and cheese.

When we made it to the checkout,
the cashier did not ask if we found everything OK,
but remained stoic, accepted our money
with a tired sigh. and told us, I didn’t ask
because I knew that you didn’t.

The fire was put out in ten minutes,
but the building was lost to us,
its perfect commercial kitchen,
its room of antiques and its suit of armor,
the bright lit stained glass near the entrance.

We have a song we sing that always begins,
Everything is coming undone, and we sang it
not understanding its importance
until the lockdown was mandated
and businesses became essential of nonessential.

Everyday beyond that day we took one walk,
the air fresher and fresher, the sounds of spring,
flowers turning into hues of blue and white,
yellow and pink. We designed the game
Incoming, an obstacle course of avoidance.

Last might another storm reeled over our house,
let loose a thunder of rain and wind,
the mulberry tree held on, but the dogwood
let a branch crack and the Japanese plum
bowed a few feet closer to the ground.


How powerful to swim into your arms,
how steadfast and stubborn,
my fingers gathering yours
like the glorious crown of a tree
reaching beyond a fence of goldenrod
and silver dust to lay a hand of leaf
upon another branch of hope
and discover whatever wonder lives in the wind,
the brightest day, a cool evening,
the murmur of doves, squirrels at play.
a warmth that turns everything into faith.


Michael H. Brownstein’s latest volumes of poetry, A Slipknot to Somewhere Else (2018) and How Do We Create Love? (2019), were recently released (Cholla Needles Press).

Light within = Hope within – Poetry and Photography by Martina Rimbaldo

Still Shining

Martina Rimbaldo brings art that truly shines from Croatia! Her photography and poetry come together and fill the soul with warmth and reverie. I encourage you to bask in the ray of light that she brings!

The light created us so we are light!

Light within = Hope within

We all own a light within us just sometimes the light hides behind a robe of darkness doe to dirty words of others, of realistic critics they do not know the dreams of idealists like us…We are Aliens to each other I can not cling myself on reality it, is too cruel and what we call a reality is not a reality we do not live in it as it is reserved for the afterlife. All that surrounds us is a dream. We create our dreams first we need to know who we are, Only by knowing who we are we can not be broken by other peoples acts towards us. Mind develops by experiences good and bad. If you had bad experiences it will form negative thoughts, you will print a negative pattern to yourself and others too.

You need to let go of your mind and open your heart ,and develop self awareness in order to change that negative print.

We have everything we need in us, do not let others interfere with their venon,

You are strong, good enough.

Every person is unique and nobody needs to be corrected for being different as none of us are mistakes even if you make one you are not that mistake!

You, me, them, are valid human beings, you have a right to follow to create your own life path.

You are your own person ,individual no one can remove you from you!

You know what is best for you ,nobody lives inside your skin but you!

You have control over you, you can make it happen!


Stuck inside your souls core

do you see the dark walls surrounding you?

Your inner child is lost

your inner women has no dignity

Your inner man has no voice to speak, no arms to fight

Who do you have left?

There is still the light of hope

silent wispers to your heart that no other can hear

Do not give up

He still needs you here

but the demons are evil

playing with your mind

mind does not need your heart

your heart does not need your mind

brake trough the pain

there is always light

it will be ok it all ends the same

While you think you are the only one

thousands and more stars just as broken as you

moan to the moon

knowing the end will not come so soon

the only thing one can do is to endure

temptations, trials, pain, suffering

it is not easy but it is the only way to stay here

and move on no metter what it takes to get to the goal

do not let others interfere

even if for them you are a zero

in your life you are a hero

Fear& idealist

Fear= safety – step out of it! allow yourself to live and breathe You are going to suffocate in here dragged, drowned in your own mind-created fear

When idealist abandons his dreams & ideas dreams become bullets ideas become guns They commit the crime. Broken mind is the most dangerous kind.


 Martina Rimbaldo is a 29 year  old  women  who lives and works in Croatia. She always  wears a pen and a notebook in her purse in the  case of a sudden inspiration in order to write it down. Her work is  published in Nightingale &Sparrow, Oddball Magazine, The sage cigarette magazine,, Thruly you,The Street Light press websites, and her artwork is published at weekly blog of Royal Rose Magazine, her photographs are published  in Bleached Butterfly and Anti heroin chic. Loves to paint abstract painting,  read religious books, watch horror as well as old movies with Audrey Hepburn, Sharon Tate, Brigitte Bardot who happens to share her  birth date and (over)thinks specially about death, what some people find morbid but not her, it is a part of life too. Her goal is to be a good person.

Jack and Jill 2020 – Poem by Gigi M. Green

Still Shining

Gigi M. Green has written an incredibly thought provoking and powerful poem during this quarantine. She makes you take that step back and really contemplate our perceptions. Take a look below and absorb her words.


What if Jack and Jill never climbed that hill

But instead were socially quarantined

Because Jill was twenty-one, a mother of two

And Jack was but nineteen.

What if Jill was a stripper who needed a fix

And Jack was her drug of choice

Is that a moral excuse to ignore her pain

And take away her voice?

What if Jack was black and Jill was white

Is this finally the year that can be alright?

Or if Jack was black and Jill was black and blue

Would that be better for you?

What if Jack and Jill did climb that hill

To fetch their piece of happiness

And instead of hate and judgement sent up

We just prayed and wished them the best.


Gigi M. Green  

Storyteller. KIOME Entertainment

Follow This Artist:

Twitter: @gigimgreen

IG: @gigimgreentv


A Soldier of Life and Other Poems by Anthony Mondal

Still Shining

Such a treat we have this morning brought by Anthony Mondal! He is an artist of many kinds as a poet, novelist, and actor. The richness of his work will fill your day like a cup of coffee and smooth jazz. Don’t miss his reading from his book, as well as his other poems below!

Human Nature, a Reflection
Human nature is falteringly slow
On its journey to be Humane
In spite of many great men before
Who paved for us, the path to follow
Often in our judgment, we are incredibly shallow.
Though deep in our heart we know it to be wrong
We amuse ourselves, when others are at fault
In our callous and casual ways, we cause much sorrow
We plunder mankind, as if there is no tomorrow
Tossing and turning in sleep, because of all our evil doings
We soothe our conscience, with intoxicating drinks
And asleep indeed are plenty
In not knowing their true human nature
Half asleep, half awakened, bewildered and baffled
They rush through life’s journey unexamined
Apologetically, I must say so
Human nature is yet far away from being Humane
And a far, far cry, from being even near to Divine.

I would Rather
I would rather watch the storm clouds gather in a distant corner of the sky
Rather than
Sit in a cubicle wasting my life away.

I would rather play soccer bare feet, feeling the cool dewy grass
Rather than
Sit in an office with no window- staring away at the computer screen.

I would rather walk alone thru the city streets, soaked wet by spring rain
Rather than
Listen to my boss and their silly rules and policies (Jargon)

I would rather pickup a profound lyrical book of Poems by a famous dead Author
And sit reading underneath the shade of a tree
Rather than
Type nonsensical claims and letters filled with numbers, corporate rules, underneath the fluorescent
tube lights

These are the things I would rather do than lock my inner child in a forced prison, for the sake of money.
But they don’t heed his tears of sorrow
Nor do they pay any attention to his Wants and needs.

When can we “See” diamonds in rough and Appreciate

Come they from distant shores
To seek Justice and fortune in a foreign land
Driven often by economic poverty
And sometimes evicted by politics dirty.
Leaving behind their native land;
To start life anew, in the land of Freedom and opportunity.
Fall victim frequently they, to scheme and schemers
Some lose their minds and some reduced to paupers
With a lot of courage and hope in their heart
The fortunate few crosses oceans and seas reaching at last!
Start they from the lowest rung of the economical ladder
With great aspirations to climb up higher
Unsympathetically are they snubbed and harassed
By sons and daughters of former immigrants
Forget cautious citizens, of their perilous adventure
Sees them only as job competitor.
Watch also they from distance bitter
The wine dine and dancing of the society “proper”

Live they in huddles,
Scared to venture, beyond their limited circles
Often their hardship, reaps benefit later
As they sacrifice for generations future
In times of economic prosperity,
Forgotten are their labors, with great insincerity
But in times of economic crisis
Are made scapegoats, and sacrificial lambs of faulty policies

Tear swells up in Her eyes
As Maiden Liberty, helplessly watches
The grave injustice done , to her precious children’s.

So are we all immigrants on Planet Earth
Since our souls have origin, removed much afar from this materialistic earth.
Perceived only by senses fine and a feeling heart.

Note: This poem was written way back, during my New York days, and was just sitting in my notebook. I had a quick read and thought this might ring true for the present situation.


Anthony Mondal is a poet, novelist and actor. He considers himself simply as an artist beyond the confines of nationality and religion. He proudly calls himself a citizen of the world. His most recent book of poems was titled A Burst of Sunshine, which is his second published book. He lived in New York City for almost ten years pursuing writing, acting and song writing – well, then he had a breakdown! And now our artist recuperates/resides in Michigan, USA. As an actor he has appeared in the film “Sabrina” and the TV show “Strangers with Candy” (2000). He received his BA from Calvin College in geology in 1995. He worked in the World Trade Centre, Building One in 2001 and has survived.

Currently he is working on an existential novel tentatively titled “In Search Of…” and is looking for a publisher/agent for his completed Memoirs.

Read more about this author at:

You Are… – Poetry by Alex Ogoh

Still Shining

Continue the serenity of the day with this modern love poem by Alex Ogoh! Sure to bring you a sense of joy and a smile to your face!


the birds chirping
on my morning
as Sunday mass choir

Like songs
you sing yourself
as lyrics into me

You are…

the distance
nearer to me
than social media

like electric
you speed yourself
as current into me

You are…

the breath
more alive to me
than piped oxygen

like wind
you whiff yourself
as air into me

You are…

the data
connected to me
as CPU

Like keyboard
you input data
as bits into me

You are…

the internet
surfing through my heart
as information

like address bar
you input your source
as URL into me


Alex Ogoh, a member of Writers’ League Benue State University Chapter. His works have appeared on The Political Poet contest in honour of Edgar Allan Poe, 2015 where he was an Honourable Mention, Youth Shades Poetry and Poetrypulse Monthly Poetry.

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Be My Guest and Other Poems by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Still Shining

Well, you’ve almost made it to the end of the week and as you start your morning, take some time to read the work of Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal! He brings a sense of peace with his poetry, a hopeful flow and a calming spirit.

Be My Guest

Are you counting the days?
Do you remember going out?
All the doors you walked through,
none of them were shut.

Will you be my guest? Will you
be my guest when all of this ends?
Will you be my partner in crime?
I do not want to go out alone.

When the orders are lifted
let’s find a good watering hole.
I will look into your kind eyes
when this horror is over,
when this gloom is lifted.

Feed the Night Your Dreams.

Feed the night your dreams.
Feed the day your daydreams.
Swat away the mosquitoes
following you in the street.
Do not despair in the afternoon.
There is the sun. Feed it your
daydreams. The twilight shadows,
feed them your dreams and when
it is time to go to bed, you know
what to do. Feed the night and
every other night your dreams.

Do Not Stay So Long

Do not stay so long in one place.
The day is long. Enjoy it. Go out.
Spend the time with your own self.
At least in the late afternoon you
you could sit in solitude like a stone.

Do not stay in one place all day long.
Be the wanderer, the curious soul.

Take a pencil to paper and write
the book you always wanted to

write. Take your time and let it be.
Make each syllable count. When

you turn out the light sleep well.
Leave the ghostly reflection of a

bad day behind. Find yourself.
Do not stare too long into the sun.

Remain motionless if you must.
But go out, don’t stay still too long.

Edge of the Sky

At the edge of the sky
a cloud of faces forms
leaving me startled
and amazed. One has
a foam like beard and
one has tears and striped
cheeks. One has a head
with no eyes or nose,
and its mouth is shaped
like a triangle. One
looks like a woman.
Perhaps it is just me
who thinks too much
and waits for a woman
that will not return.
I feel so sad and as
darkness arises, rain
falls inside my eyes.

Cast No Spells

You cast no spells
I am aware
of. Still, I am
bound to you in
a way I am
unable to
shake away from.
It is not you.
I do it to
myself. It is
not you. It is
my heart and soul
that seeks you out.
I must find a
way to get free
when I know it
is going to
end badly for
me. It is not
you. It is me.
I know it in
my heart and soul
you have other
plans. I do it
to myself, this
spell that is not
really a spell
I am under.


Born in Mexico, Luis has lived in California for the last 45 years. He works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His poetry has been published by Ariel Chart, Blue Collar Review, Mad Swirl, Red Fez Publications, Unlikely Stories, and Yellow Mama Magazine. Kendra Steiner Editions published his 7 of his chapbooks, with the last chapbook being Make the Light Mine. 

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