Our website is dedicated to promoting the creative talents of poets, writers, artists, and photographers all over the world.

Currently Featuring the Spring/Summer - 2015 edition

Review Submission/Guidelines for year round submissions

Stop by the "Reading Room" for a New Flash Fiction Story
"In the Garden" by Toti O'Brien

Visit the Music and Poetry page to hear Klyd Watkins'
poem "Down the Trail." 


Lilly Press

River Poets Journal

A Journal of Poetry/Prose

Art & Photography

Below - Sampling of  Poetry and Art from the 2015
Spring/Summer Edition

To view the entire Journal - Select "River Poets Journal PDF from the menu above.

On that page click on "River Poets Journal Spring-Summer 2015 Edition.pdf

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Poems by River Poets Journal Contributors
All future rights to material published on this web site are retained
 by the individual Authors and Artists/Photographers

Musical Composition by Sandy Bender
"Half Sleep"

To listen to musical composition click on musical note below
This page was last updated: August 22, 2015
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Judith Lawrence, Editor
White Heart

See the eagle spread his wings,
soar across the sky of white dreams.
Hear as a million voices sing
for a feather to land at their feet.

See the Indians shake their hair,
fling an old song to the four seas.
Watch as oiled machines
plow through red clay and sky.

We of this country burn with the hope
of softening our heart’s history,
yet polish our cups of tarnished gold,
flash hot guns of the tongue and hip.

We drive stakes into the frail skin of Earth,
hang our hats on melting icebergs.
How long till we clip the eagle’s wings,
stick him in a cage all fat and tame?

                                         ©Jason Sturner

All  Paintings on this page by August Macke 
Cathredral at Frieberg, Switzerland


How I feel when
I see a place I 
used to live,

a place where I 
helped my father
take the organs 
out of an animal
before we ate it;

when people ask
where I’ve been,
I say the Midwest—

I think I see the color
green differently now.

As I cross the bridge
over the river, I think
that the water must 
flow toward where 
I used to be, when
my heart beat slower,
when my hair was
like the tops of the corn—

The water a necessity,

a uterus expelling a
crying child into the world.  

                  ©Kristin LaFollette

Children With Goat
Darkness Again

As I stomp over the lawn
guiding my path with flashlight beam
to spotlight the barking dog
whose eyes flash in the shaft
along with the red blinking beacon
of its shock collar only working
if owners hear their own dog barking
inside the house I signal through windows
with my inadequate flashlight,
I wonder if the next neighbor over
turning on headlights I must appear in
wonders who hollered, “Shut the hell up!”
to dog or house or neighbor
until all falls silent
into darkness again.

  ©Diane Webster

Garden at Thuner Lake

It moves me when I see 
grown ups playing 
in the street with children
It shows me that they still understand 

the thrill of kicking soccer balls 
into Mrs. Beyler’s yard 
or whacking baseballs 
behind Mrs. Heward’s house

and then running for all they’re worth
rounding bases, mostly gunny sacks,
from barns or shingles blown off the house.
When the games are finished

or when their wives call them 
from the front porch, they trudge
toward home, T-shirts drenched 
in sweat, their voices carrying stories 

of great slides, nifty catches with one hand.
Slowly they each turn into their own
yards, sensing that youth stays in the streets. 
They open the front door 

of their mortgaged houses,
don their disguise of maturity,
slip through the portals of adulthood,
leaving the boy at the door.

                                               ©Darrel Hammon

Tightrope Walker

Third time. You appear
Out of my wishes at the
Food truck
A genie, straight out of a monk
You are as magical as a centerfold
I wanted to run my fingers through
Your hair
Your  voice,  soothing as a callas
You are divine, you are oblivion
You are the football pulled away from
You said you “ lost “ my email
I’m thinking “ a likely story,”
But I take your word for it
And give you a different email address
Hoping a message will come
From you
Like an oasis I see in a desert

Good things come in threes
If it’s the third time, 
It was meant to be
Or at least god will be kind enough
To give me amnesia

So I can forget about you…

                               ©Erren Geraud Kelly

Man With Donkey