…it be that I wash my face so well
So I see beneath man’s handsome face
Let it be that I train my heart to tell
When a man is lying so I flee with pace
Should my emotions ever take heed
I may live alone but not to be broken
But my heart yearns to bleed
Stubbornly I allow my self to be taken
In brief joy, I vowed to be loyal
To a love that will on live by the day
The night came and his demon was fatal
Heartless and cruel he pushed me…
By Hamza Ayub
…woke up this morning wanting to write warmly to you. I had half of a poem written,
When I realised that I had been merely placing words together.
There was no truth behind them.
No feeling being drug up from the depths of my gut.
No passion in that place that exists behind the words.
Because such a place surely exists.
It is a dark hole that is never-ending.
It is talon fingers
That tickle our brain when eating poetry,
One juicy simile at a time.
The chewing gum sentence that sticks fervently to the side of our…
By Lindsay Brown
The poem is a journey of 2 hours long journey of secondary level student from his home to school where his maturity speaks that education hasn't taught.
…hasn't read Frost
but walks hours before he sleep.
He is not informed about Joyce
but says that he walks to meet himself.
He is heedless about Herog
still, walks to save some life.
He has no idea about Bronte
but he walks twice the same distance there and back.
He hasn't flip through "Open City"
still, he pays attention to where is he and where is he going?
He knows nothing about…
Looking through the cabin windows, the lake gave me this visual.
…on the water, winds drive waves upon the rocks
Brightly colored water toys swept off their spots on docks
Boats are safely brought ashore, secure away from shoals
Laundry in from clotheslines, among the stated goals
Tools that rest near projects, gathered up and put in sheds
Garden gloves collected from the bordered flower beds.
Though the sun is shining, in the distance still a haze
Local knowledge tells of how the wind could last for days
The far shore just a grey-green line that clouds are trying to…
By James Geehring Read More
…been high as a kite, lower than ditch slug in this short life I've lived so far.
I've seen people crying to loved ones passing hospital halls to loved ones crying as newborns are brought into this unique black hole of existence we call life.
I've seen the ugly side of people I've only known good sides about, growing like cancer each second as life becomes too much for them to handle.
I've seen bad people cry the most sincere tears, dripping from their neck down to their button up shirts.
I've heard the biggest lies, and found the smallest…
By Darrell Wardsteele Read More
What happens when the oppressed stop playing by the rules
…saw him in passing. Just another car, another citizen driving, unremarkable in all aspects except one. He hit the wailer and took off down the road after him. His was heart beating fast and his adrenaline was coursing through his blood, amping his attitude and getting him ready to meet the enemy. He called it in over the radio keeping the specifics to a minimum as there was no real reason to approach as of yet. Thankfully he was given the latitude to stop and detain anyone he deemed…
By Isa Pulley Read More
Best friends with a child prodigy
Singing to myself while spinning in circles
The festival was lively with entertainment
Admiring black lacquer jewelry boxes and ruby glassware
No more lovely music or twirling ballerinas
Likes the idea of having decorative plates instead of serving plates
A bird statue placed in front of a handheld fan
Remembering the professor who studies paradigms
Would rather be caught up in tediousness
They didn't beg but I didn't protest
Familiar stare due to similar…
By Samantha Merz Read More
My Life: Reimagined
…see there are some things that you must understand about me. Not that you must understand but I'm going to tell you anyway. Some things I'm going to tell you about happened to me and then there are some things that happened to me in just the way that I remember they happened to me. Because my memory isn't all that good, to begin with, and that's before I got sick.
So sometimes the story is in order and sometimes it's out of order and the reason is... I'm like a storytelling carousel. Remember the carousel at…
By RayFed Read More
This short story was inspired by the work Junji Ito, a Japanese author who relishes the freedom of horror stories that thrive on not answering every question the reader might have.
…had been a week since Max’s funeral. His family had chosen not to have a casket. Our guess was there hadn’t been enough left of him to put in one after the accident. Instead, his grandmother had him cremated and put his ashes on display. I remember noticing the box then. I’d only ever seen urns used for ashes, and a box didn’t seem like it would hold them…
By Nick McCusker Read More
…daisies with downward facing petals
You’re in a monster truck
Driving off the road
A child chases after a wild animal with claws
Insincere recommendation for a main course
Temper tantrum over tanzanite studs
Hose running onto the sidewalk and onto the street
A watering hole
Found a crow corpse
Wants to spoil me
Life holds on to us
Waiting for the wind to settle to…
By Samantha Merz Read More