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.
…was sure her question was rhetorical so I didn’t answer, fearing I might receive a response marinated in anger. I just sat on the couch and continued watching TV. Next I could hear her throwing shit around the kitchen, shouting profanities, pounding on the countertop, all of this accompanied by intermittent groans of…
By Judge Burdon
Read MoreFood For Thought... Enjoy this tale which is a small morsel as a nice entrée filled with nice dinner conversation, Bon Appetit
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…rumblings from above Paulie could find peace reflecting inside the barn that was cut in half during a domestic dispute that bordered on two neighbors on the same family tree that continued to grow and blossom. Somehow the agriculture landmark was once the centerpiece to where one would…
By Marc OBrien
Read More…pints of stout settled into uniform darkness with cream caps firming up. Each was watched with an anticipation, attentive for the right moment. Two men sat in predetermined places. High wooden stools side by side, tight up to the bar for support. One was red-faced from the elements, mostly bald with untended stray hairs. The other’s face was etched in earthy ridges, a worn grey mop above reaching down to…
By Niall Crowley
Read More…best result of hearing a police siren when you are in jail is that you know they aren't after you. Of course then you must deal with the reality that your ass is incarcerated. Los Robles prison near Punteranes ,Costa Rica. I've resided in Gray Bar Hotels in a few states back in the U.S. and had the hospitality of carceles (prisons) in more countries than I'd like to admit. Taking all into consideration this place is better than…
By Judge Burdon
Read More…was the time of the pandemic. On most days Muriel Blenkinsopp did not venture out of her house on High Street in Ashleyville, Ohio. She lived by herself, her husband having died five years before, and her children were now at home in another state a few hours away. She didn't even have a dog, though she would have liked one, but they seemed too much trouble to take care of. She didn't like cats very…
By Anita G. Gorman
Read More…don't like it when it gets dark. Night time. It's really lonely all by myself. Sometimes I can see the stars, but the moon never seems to shine in here. There is a little window up high but I can't reach it. Maybe I could if I stood up on the chair but the chair is wobbly – sort of like…
By Catherine White
Read MorePlease enjoy my piece "The Border Land Farm". I hope this healthy vision to dealing with something that is forced…
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…country far away, there was a small village that bordered another nation where the enemy lived. A young boy was playing in the garden where his Mother spent the day making sure the eggplant she planted had a healthy upbringing and would find joy in bringing a delicious experience to an individual looking for…
By Marc OBrien
Read MoreQuestioning the Equality between genders
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…was born in the shade of nothing loftier than a scrubby scarp, edges of an ancient seabed; west coast of this great brown, dry continent, Australia. Mine a youth of ill-gotten hours hanging around a few Scarborough shops. Places I avoided being classified as a future…
By Karen Lethlean
Read More…was the five-year anniversary of my father’s passing, and as a remembrance, I decided to rifle through a bin of his belongings that he had left for me. I myself, recently was given a death sentence from my doctor; a result of a rare incurable disease similar to Leukemia. Two months of precious life was the estimate, give or take a month or…
By Jon Moray
Read More…walked into her bedroom, then sat down on the stool in front of her antique dressing table. She loved the dressing table with an attached mirror which had been her Grandma’s. It was her favorite place to brush her hair. As Grace looked at her image in the mirror, she remembered her Grandmother’s reflection in that same mirror. She had often sat in her Grandmother’s lap while her Grandma had…
By Nancy Lou Henderson
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