Mario Badino

Breathe life in

Breathe life in
Let things out

With your rooms overflowing
It's hard to stay light

Let life in
Breathe things out

Have a rest if it helps
Have a walk in the wild

There's no need to go far
Nor to escape from the crowd

Let life in
Breathe things out

Put your feet on the street
And go seeking the world

Which is there to be found
And to fill your soul

Greet the light
as day begins

Breathe things out
Let life in

Copyright 2025 Mario Badino

Bio:

Mario Badino was born in Turin in 1975, grew up in the Alps and then moved to Apulia, in the South of Italy, where he lives with Silvia and their children, Emma and Riccardo. He teaches Italian in middle school and is the author of three books of poetry (“Cianfrusaglia”, “Barricate!” and “Santificare le feste”). He’s a member of the poetic collective SlammalS, that promotes spoken-word poetry in Apulia. You can read more about him on his web site cianfrusaglia.wordpress.com.

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Piero Sanso

Come L'Acqua

La poesia finisce
nei corridoi, di notte,
il tuo respiro irregolare
i passi strascicati
per la schiena dolorante
e il sonno scappato via
tra i molteplici effetti collaterali.
La poesia non regge
l'avvelenamento costante
a cui prestiamo il tuo corpo
nella statistica ricerca
di una sopravvivenza.
La poesia fa male
come fa male vivere
al ritmo di una terapia aliena
che se aggiusta guasta
chiedendo di aggiustare il nuovo guasto
in una interminabile catena
di impossibili compensazioni chimiche.
E il corpo, come la poesia,
si fa acqua e si arrende,
accoglie quel che viene
come il fiume segue la corrente.
La poesia non basta
a dare voce
a certa contraddizione.
Il male minore
la biologia non lo capisce.
Perchè la natura è cruda e violenta
quanto indifferente
alle tragedie dei suoi abitanti.
Sono seduto sulla riva
una penna in mano e un foglio
o forse sono anch'io acqua
rumorosa e ribelle
a torcermi le budella
a non sapere la cosa giusta
mentre nostra figlia
ci guarda dalla scialuppa di salvataggio
i salvagenti in mano
lei che ha la saggezza dell'infanzia
e si stringe a te
tutte le notti
come se fosse la prima volta.



Copyright 2025 Piero Sanso

Like Water

The poem ends
in the corridors, at night,
your uneven breathing
the uneasy steps
the aching back
and the sleep that escapes
from multiple side effects.
The poem can’t withstand
the constant poisoning
to which we lend your body
for research
for survival.
The poem hurts
as it hurts to live
to the rhythm of an odd therapy
that if fixed, breaks
asking to fix what is now broken
in an endless chain
of impossible chemical compensation.
And the body, like poetry,
becomes water and surrenders
welcomes what comes
as the river follows the current.
Poetry is not enough
to give voice
to this certain contradiction.
Biology does not comprehend
the lesser evil.
Because nature is raw and violent
as it is indifferent
to the tragedies of its inhabitants.
I am sitting on the riverbank
pen and paper in hand
or maybe I also am water
noisy and rebellious
my innards twisting
not knowing the exact cause
while our daughter
who watches us from the lifeboat
life jacket in hand
she who has the wisdom of childhood
and who hugs you
every night
as if for the very first time.

Translation by Mike Maggio
Copyright 2025 Mike Maggio

Bio:

Piero Sansò works for the Ministry of Justice, Juvenile Division. He lives in Puglia, Italy in the city of Putignano. An impulsive, passionate writer, he published a fantasy novel in 2014 which takes place in Puglia (I Ciclonauti/The Cyhclonauts). Hi latest poetry collection, Poesie In-sostenibili (Unsustainable Poems) was self-published in 2024.

Piero Sansò, lavora nel Ministero della Giustizia, settore minorile. Vive in Italia, in Puglia, nella città di Putignano. Grafomane per passione, ha pubblicato nel 2014 un romanzo fantasy ambientato in Puglia dal titolo I Ciclonauti. mentre la sua ultima raccolta poetica, edita in autoproduzione nel 2024, si intitola Poesie In-sostenibili.

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Sylvia “Lady Di” Beverly

Love is the Way

Only by God’s grace
Mercy, Mercy me
Self detection of a small
tumor in breast, smaller
than a M&M.
No devastation
No worries, no fear.
Following instructions and
preparation for surgery.
Faith and Prayer saving grace.
Feeling goodness of
“Footprints in the Sand”.
No anguish, no pain.
Early detection, bountiful gain.
Radiation treatments were
applied.
In like a lamb, leaves like a tiger.
Time came to ring BELL with
Family and Friends, colorful
Balloons, fragrant flowers and
lovely thoughtful gifts waiting
outside.
Time keeps ticking into the
future.
Four years in remission.
Living each day to the fullest.
Hoping to brighten someone
else’s day.
Patience, kindness, consideration
and love are the way.

Copyright 2025 Sylvia Beverly

Bio:

Sylvia Dianne Beverly is a native of SE Washington, D.C. and alumni of Anacostia H.S. and The University of District of Columbia.  She is an Internationally acclaimed poet, presenting poetry In Brixton, London, England, at the Lewisham Theater.

Donation Appeal:
To help victims of cancer and to help foster continuing research into this deadly disease, please consider donating to either The American Cancer Society or The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

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This Post Intentionally Left Blank

In honor of all those who have fallen victim to cancer.

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Arlene Wohl

The Biopsy

Genius is seeing things as they actually are
after Irving Layton, Canadian Poet

In a drug-induced quasi- real realm I dread
the drill of the needle about to dig deep into
the bone to determine why platelets would
vacate my lifeblood, escape like helpless
leaves carried out to sea by a sudden storm.

A velvety blanket covers my panic with strange
calm but illusory smoke unfurls big C words
like cancer and chemo scribbled in the air,
not in ink but in pencil, so faint I can barely
read them; I make them disappear like ether.

When the sting of the needle pierces the core,
the bone is shattered, the marrow retrieved,
will I be able to unmask what is transparent
rather than smudge the surface with prejudice
or magical thinking, fancy thought…?

Let me brush off fairy dust vaguing the air,
scrape sand from my ostrich head stuck
buried and gasping. Whatever the finding, let
it be written in ink; now that I’m a genius for seeing
clear, I can invent something to erase indelible ink…

Copyright 2025 Arlene Wohl

Bio:

Arlene Wohl – Fiber artist, poet of self-published poetry and art book A Jagged Line and a new manuscript ready for submission To Stave off the Night.

Donation Appeal:
To help victims of cancer and to help foster continuing research into this deadly disease, please consider donating to either The American Cancer Society or The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

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Music for Peace

Hello everyone:

My son Karim and his friends are holding a concert/fundraiser for Gaza. Please read to see how you can contribute even if you are not located in Cleveland. And you can watch the concert for free online (see links below).

Thank you.

Mike

Hi everyone! I wanted to tell you all about a special event that’s coming up. On May 4 at 7pm, Yasmin Gerardi and I will be holding a benefit concert at the Cleveland Institute of Music to raise money for the World Central Kitchen operating in Gaza. The event is called Music for Peace and will feature works by Israeli, Moroccan, Palestinian, and Persian composers.

To raise money, we’ll be collecting online and in-person donations as well as holding an online silent auction, featuring items from local Cleveland vendors and artists. If you’re interested in making a contribution or bidding on an item, you’re more than welcome to visit our donation and auction portal using the link at the bottom of this post. Donations of any size go such a long way and will help get us closer to our fundraising goal of $5,000.

Please feel free to share this with anyone and everyone who you think may be interested. The more money you help us raise, the more we can provide to those struggling in the Middle East.

For more information about the event, the livestream (for those who are not local), and to donate or bid on an item, please visit our LinkTree ( https://linktr.ee/musicforpeaceCIM ) or scan the QR code in the photo.

The program can be viewed for free by clicking on this link:

Karim Maggio

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Susan Notar

To preserve formatting, this poem has been saved as a PDF. Please click on the link below to access it.

Everything Gives You Cancer

Bio:

Susan Notar is a Pushcart prize nominated poet whose work has appeared in a number of publications including Gargoyle, Artemis, Burningword, Gyroscope, Joys of the Table:  An Anthology of Literary Verse, Alianza Latina Antologia de Poemas, Written in Arlington, The Forgotten River, American Literary, Poets for Ukraine.

Donation Appeal:
To help victims of cancer and to help foster continuing research into this deadly disease, please consider donating to either The American Cancer Society or The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

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Juliana Schifferes

Secrets

Murmuring her morality’s
expiration date
like a lost radio tune
undone by bad reception
Mom tells Grandma’s
memory care nurse
she forgot to arrange
a carpool for me.

“I’ll be back soon”, she tells Grandma.

The snow swirls
switches sanity off.
The road is blurred
sightless and blinding white.
The car almost planes
as she veers
towards the school.

“Always stay this good, sweetie,”
and Grandma’s
comment takes on
tumorlike significance.
An impossible commandment.

Mom repeats
the imperative.
I’m too young but to
believe the order
is easy to obey.

Mom’s tumor
stays secret
from the family
as if silence
stops it from
metastasizing.
Or as if guilt
can’t metastasize until
everything turns black
as radio fuzz.

Copyright 2025 Juliana Schifferes

Bio:

Juliana “Jules” Schifferes is a Washington DC native and resident. She has published
several times. She values her chance to publish in Wishbone Words, The Mid-Atlantic Review,
and Poetry X Hunger in particular, and was the inaugural Luce Prize winner in 2023. Outside of poetry, she loves opera, following politics, and Romantic-era classical music

Donation Appeal:
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Liz Fortini

The Lemon Sky

The sound of my mom’s
sandals as they softly
click across the floor
on her way to fetch flour

to bake a lemony cake,
and the sharpness of echoing time,
remembering her vitality.

A welcome treat where ingredients
went in haphazardly, no rhyme
nor reason at all

A smatter of salt she’d call out
singsong in her pantry
one pat of butter, an extra is better

I see this through my sorrow
as memories creep in
for mother is no longer here

a revolving carousel of odds,
bone pain, hospital stays,
diligence, cancer,

hopes that came and went
and with it our stolen future

reinforced love in that eternity the echo
It doesn’t matter how much you…..

vanilla extract for flavor she emphasized
A dab of baking powder
now all was ready for the blender

childhood is restless
my childhood was in her heart,

looking out from her wheelchair
at the San Jose skyline
bathed in sunrise hues

in silence, blessing me,
her face anticipating closure

leaving me behind

Duty falls to love, let me stand
behind your chair and clasp
your rounded shoulders again

Three egg whites folded in gently
a finishing touch to act

Necessity passes to humility
let me check your hands
once more for fading black and blue

She’d chitter-chatter
while explaining,
lemon zest for icing

Her heart was tender
and purer than white sugar

Let me fold the blanket
I laid across your knees
with comfy slippers
I settled on your feet

her sandals clicking
across the kitchen floor…

and place the memory
of that bright lemon sky
on a shelf of purity

Copyright 2025 by Liz Fortini

Bio:

Liz Fortini dabbles in writing poetry, and is involved in many activities. She lives in Northern California with her husband Ron, and in her leisure time likes to take walks.

Donation Appeal:
To help victims of cancer and to help foster continuing research into this deadly disease, please consider donating to either The American Cancer Society or The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

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Don Kingfisher Campbell

Not Cancer

She was not felled
By the same scourge
As her husband
Gone 37 years

She endured being
An orphan of divorce
A handsy uncle then
Different high schools

She married once
A man with three kids
A vasectomy to reverse
Birthed him two more

She couldn’t tolerate
Her neighbor’s intrusions
On her children and those
Attempts to take her home

She did trip over
A bicycle in the garage
Leaned against a pool table
A bad leg ever since

She believed her
Homosexual daughter
Was going to Hell until
She became her caregiver

She developed diabetes
From God knows where
Prepackaged American
Microwaved food

She also inherited
Her mother’s weak heart
Coupled with dementia
A final disease combo

She ended in a hospital
At 8:30 on a sunny morn
With prearranged orders
Do not resuscitate

She never trusted
Her eldest and only son
Whose interracial marriages
Wrote him out of the will

Copyright 2025 Don Kingfisher Campbell

Bio:

Don Kingfisher Campbell, MFA Antioch University L.A., taught at USC and Occidental College Upward Bound, board member California Poets In The Schools, publisher Four Feathers Press, host of the Saturday Afternoon Poetry reading and workshop series in Pasadena, California. For awards, features, and publication credits, please go to: http://dkc1031.blogspot.com

Donation Appeal:
To help victims of cancer and to help foster continuing research into this deadly disease, please consider donating to either The American Cancer Society or The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

Thank you.

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