by Emily Spanos


Melancholic gales
flood the soul,
during the frigid days
of winter.

at the peak
of spring,
being able
to go
on a nice long
mile sprint—

contentment propagates
inside you.


Perilous pane of an uncanny
urn lavishly leans upon murky
limbs denial and conceit is
found amongst tyrants of
dreary dangles beckoning.
Alas, colliers of gilt and gray
collect does one see a ridden
garden of flies, pervasion of
filth. An enclosed stench for
man weeping on his knees,
searching far without remorse
or anguish voyage alongside
rustics of vengeance with dim
yellowing eyes, burning holes
through the insides of the shabby
dupes; a mundane oblivion marks
the words of one but contrariwise
to the other, who contains brilliance
with dearth of wisdom meant by none.

Her Blue Eyes

Reflected speckled beams seen
as the gape gradually facades the
lofty yellow streaks befuddle the
observer while the deep oceanic
wonders pierce through the lens
obstructing the view with a vibrant
blue color of melancholic despondency.

Shine surpasses the divergent
colors of a relentless moon,
an almond-shaped ecstasy.

Emily N. Spanos is a Maryland-born Psychology student studying at Towson University. She has conducted research while having many creative pieces published, which can be found on numerous literary reviews and websites. Some of her pieces can be found in magazines like Wilderness House Literary Review and Cigale Literary Magazine, and on the Online Examiner, where she reports articles on a weekly basis.