My Ambition Up and Left Me

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My ambition up and left me, and now I’m really in a sweat.
The computer’s on, coffee’s hot, a CD’s playing, I’m all set
to write a story, poem or book until I start to write and then
my wandering mind goes quickly off to hither and then yon. When,
I wonder, will it come back to compose some poetry or prose?
Unfazed by caffeine and dark chocolate, my ennui just grows and grows,
transforming all my good intentions to pavement on that Hell-bound road.
I should be frustrated; I should be angry. I should pen an ode,
or rambling essay, or some fiction, or fictional non-fiction
praising my valiant deeds, stunning looks, and perfect diction.
Instead, I check my e-mail, look at Facebook and play solitaire
when I should be scribbling novels or love poems to a damsel fair.
But me? I keep on staring at the computer’s large, empty screen,
confident at this pace I’ll have a paragraph by Halloween.

 

By Tom Harris

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Bladder Up

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"A true horror story about the aging process that will never be told anywhere else."

A few years ago I was working in a career that is highly physical, requiring heavy lifting and a lot of walking and standing. During this time I was also enjoying regular Brazilian Waxes. Ahhhhhhh..They are fantastic and worth the reasonable, quick pain, and embarrassment. I got busy and missed one or two, therefore, I was shaving what I could reach and attempted to shave "down under" if you know what I mean.

 

With one foot on the toilet, a mirror in one hand, the razor in the other, I began to attempt this difficult task. Honing the mirror into the correct position, my hoo haw "down under" was in full, plain view. We have all looked at our hoo haws before (don't you deny it) so I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. I took a closer look and gasped out loud. I may even have cussed. What I saw put me in mild shock. There was a creamy white, pink veined, "ball" right inside my...

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Midnight Music

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The sounds of the piano playing interrupts the silence as the snow drops. The window leads to a forest now covered in white. She wants to go into the forest but it’s too dark out and the piano is still being played. She joins him instead. She says nothing not wanting to interfere with the musician. She sits right next to him as he concentrates on where his fingers are moving. She watches them dance madly as they create a beautiful melody. She closes her eyes and imagines they are the ones dancing to it. What’s important to her isn’t the music as lovely as it is. ‘Is this love?’ she wonders. She hopes so.

 

By Aubrey D.

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Play Day

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Two young girls draw and color their scribbles all day. The older teaches the younger about types of colors. And how the problem with being left handed when you color is the stain marks left on your pinky. The younger one noticed.

“Look,” she points at her sister’s dirty blue finger.

“Oh,” the older one responds and licks the smudge off.

“What did it taste like?” the younger one asked.

She thought about it before answering. “It tasted like blue,” she said.

 

By Emma Smith

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Word Picture

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Picture these words: Neon dust clouds ring in a pair of shadows, a girl and her dog. Close by, an approaching tornado of pastel teals and cyber pinks. A star-filled duke sky surrounds the cornflower moon. Onyx grass holds the scene over it. The girl’s smoke dress dances with the commanding gusts, yet she blandly leans and tilts along.

The delighted graphite dog barks in pure ecstasy at the girl. He hyperventilates, tongue out. Running to the field was no walk in the park, but he treats it as if it is when there’s a color storm.

The girl’s hands hover high above her head, grasping at the sky as the tornado nears. Her hopes are to touch the shades of every color, to understand the nature of beauty.

 

By Amber Black

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Detrimental

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An accidental sentimental mentally tangential oriental parental rental I rent till my experimental intercontinental environmental change ends.

A foreign exchange student. A changed student. Confused of a diffused transition into infused translations of induced impatience and produced inflations.

Didn’t sign up, threw no signs up, but sigh and size up lies from shy skies to look up to. Terrorize disguised, slick ties and snake eyes. Advise the unwise to crystalize crystal eyes and devise, polarize, downsize and reorganize the prize of demise, a country.

Visualize and internalize a theorized civilization intellectualizing and internationalizing international-eyes-ing. Idolize THEIR idol eyes. Minimize the glamorized digitized advertisements. Agonize and empathize failure to analyze behavior. Recognize unutilized minds not realizing they’ve got so little, timewise.

They’ll regret.

By Seth McAllister

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Thinking Back

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I still remember being in school, being uncomfortable with myself.

Thinking, if I miss a day everyone would forget me by the next.

I remember when Friday was my favorite day and Sunday night was the worst.

I still feel this way.

Where does the time go?

 

Wish I could see how I’ve changed.

Went from being shy to quiet.

Seems like I’m not doing much, but really, I’m busy in my own thoughts, wishing I could live in someone else’s mind.

 

By Marcy White

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