The Abstract Art Gallery
A writing gallery created by writers from around the world. From poetry to song lyrics, from essays to entire novels and short stories.
Don't know what the argument wuz about. Don't even know there wuz an…
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…know what the argument wuz about. Don’t even know there wuz an argument. Might’a been just bar talk. The big guy got riled by somthin’ I didn’t say. That’s what I think. Couldn’t make sense of it. It all happened so fast. He started pushin’ me around, screaming somthin’ or other, don’t know what, slappin…
By K. L. Shipley
Read MoreMy first friends were animals. Now in my old age, my remaining friends are animals.
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…in my old age, my remaining friends are animals. In between I’ve had many wonderful friends that were human. Some were pals, some were business partners, some were lovers. Some I knew well, some I barely knew, others were very dear to me. They’re mostly…
By K. L. Shipley
Read MoreNeither hero, nor quite the monster he was said to be, He died a King. He died courageously.
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…corpse, naked and torn by wounds, was bound across a horse, with his head and long hair hanging down, bloody and hideous, and in this condition borne into Leicester for all men…
By K. L. Shipley
Read MoreWho can say no to an archangel?
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…is probably better known by the anglicized version of her name: Joan of Arc. Her story has been told often. It always bears repeating. I knew her name before I knew anything else about her. As a five-year old, I wondered why a can of kidney beans would be called…
By K L. Shipley
Read MoreMy mother and my aunt surprised me one day with an act of courage.
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…took courage to cross the ocean in the early part of the twentieth century and begin a new life. My mother, Astrid Paulina Johansson Malmquist, was a woman of courage. My aunt, Amalia Johansson Lindquist, was another. They were two of the eleven children who grew up on my grandparents' farm outside of Asarum in the province of Blekinge, in southern…
By Anita G. Gorman
Read MoreI always thought of myself as a "non racist," a person who knew it was wrong to judge someone by the…
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…disbelief, hoping what I was watching was just a dream, but no, it was a nightmare. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the screen as the reporter in Baltimore walked around the city. Freddie Gray had recently died in police custody and the city of Baltimore was rioting. I watched as the reporter walked past the charred vehicles…
By Kathleen Kempert
Read MoreYou can't always get what you want.
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…do they all come from? That’s the refrain from Paul McCartney’s song: Eleanor Rigby. Lyrics, melody, and string arrangement, combine to make it one of the most interesting songs of the twentieth century. Most people think of it as a well-crafted pop song. I think it’s more. The churning throb of the beat evokes…
By K. L. Shipley
Read MoreFlorence J. Mauchant was born in Paris, France and has been a New York City…
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…week of July, the city of Manhattan is oddly empty, the sky is spotless blue and the sun is providing just the perfect amount of warmth. Instead of being uplifted by these auspicious elements of my summer environment, I feel like I have been flattened into a thin, energy-less form, by one of those road…
By Florence Mauchant
Read MoreAn entanglement of Art and Life.
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…a small book whose impact on the world of literature has been large. It tells of a love triangle between a young lady, her betrothed, and her not-so-secret admirer. The story is driven by the angst and ruminations of the frustrated admirer. The plot was ancient, the way of the telling was…
By K. L. Shipley
Read MoreDeath, near death, or what?
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…living in the Province of Northumbria returned from the dead to tell what he saw. His story was recorded by Bede in his 731 A.D. book, The Ecclesiastical History of the English People. Illness had driven this man to bed, where he grew worse, finally dying as darkness fell. His wife and family stood…
By K. L. Shipley
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