Looking forward to what 2024 will bring for everyone of us. https://youtu.be/a1fjwBGLZPs

Good Evening and welcome to the final edition of Blue Stained Glass for 2023. I am your host Mary Anne Abdo and the poetry readings for today be taken from newly published poetry. Bindweed Magazine, Local Gems Press, The Avocet, The Edge of Humanity Magazine, and Literary Revelations Press. My final poem is one that I wrote this past Friday afternoon during my lunch break. My submitted work was mentioned in Two Sylvias’ Weekly Muse, Issue 88. Which is also published on Substack Reads. Two Sylvias’ Weekly Muse: December 31, 2023 Issue 88: Happy New Year, Poets! Mary Anne Abdo writes: “It has been a busy month of writing, editing and submitting my poetry. Acceptances for anthologies, Poets of Promise by Local Gems Press, Winter Wonderland 2023 Bindweed Magazine and The Avocet Winter 2023. The children’s book Creative Gems 3 acceptance for two of my stories. These books are out on Amazon except for The Avocet. Online magazine acceptances from The Edge of Humanity Magazine and Literary Revelations Press. If you love something you will never work a day in your life. Keep going everyone—it is so worthwhile.” It has been a very fruitful year and I am so grateful to everyone who has taken the time to read my work. This is my last poem for 2023, with many new projects for 2024.

Pondering Twenty Twenty-Three

Revelations of blatant un-truths.

Revelations of twenty twenty-four resolutions.

The year of infantile chickens is gone.

The dragon’s year makes it presence known,

with fire and fortune.

Did my faceted words, flow like a faucet?

Did those unending promotional posts displease you?

Why do Dollar Store items cost a quarter more?

Why do we need television screens to pump gas?

Are we really winning on any warfront?

Are celebrities’ personal lives any of our business?

I want dawn’s early light to crush madness.

I want stars to sparkle over raindrops.

Decisions made around ten minutes past seven.

Decisions never to un-open false gifts of disrespect,

laid upon my feet.

We deserve better gifts of no monetary merit.

We need green keys to open frozen hearts.

Looking forward to Aries eleventh day.

Looking over a misty red and white Venetian afternoon.

Let’s watch Waterford’s multi-faceted sphere drop.

Let’s untwist platinum muselets of champagne.

Does this poem make sense?

Does life make any sense at all?

(c  ) Mary Anne Abdo