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.
Silence submits and uses the canvas of ambient woods to paint a grand piano to be played in the dark of early morning.
Nimble fingers address and taunt the chirp of nature’s call.
Green with envious desire each leaf watches jealously...
By Amber Black
Read MoreI don’t know what happened to my creative bug. Maybe I murdered it. Stepped all over it. Didn’t see what I had and now it’s gone. Mourning for the dead bug I took for granted so long ago.
By Cristina WilCraft
Read MoreThe end of one journey and the start of another for a great man. The leader of the free world. My president was black. My president was gracious. My president was generous. My president was intelligent. My president was noble. My president was educated. My president was fun. My president was Barrack Obama.
Cheers to the Great.
By Jonathan Cordova, M.D.
Read MoreOozing glowing red water rolls over the edge of the mountain, like lava after an eruption.
A fading tight slipping grip writes the story of a fight for glory, whips, tips and poker chips, chip dip and sippin’ drinks.
Parties and crimes....
By Amber Black
Read MoreWarm fingertips sliver down the spine in tense anticipation.
Gentle, yet, controlling hands grip shapely hips.
Gripped waist and the taste of cushion lips.
Tongue like a snake, pink, wiggles and drags along caramel skin.
An entanglement like a bag of connected extension cords.
Surges of electric energy shoot static charges where the cords meet.
Fleeing glances prance around loving dances.
Care free sensations and no chance for frustration.
All sins forgiven and the rotten is forgotten.
The wrong is gone and blissful shocks are shot.
Mellow flows melt flowing metal.
Bodies or water.
Warm fingertips sliver down the spine in relief.
By Amber Black
Read MoreFirst time on a cruise ship
And I’m already tired of it.
Just for a few weeks I’m told
But it feels like I’ve been here forever.
Never again I say.
And there are so many things to do I’m told.
Like swimming in the pool,
Eating at the buffet,
Even dancing in the club.
No thanks.
Too many strangers around.
I’ll stay in my room
With a few good books to read instead.
By Cristina WilCraft
Read MoreOut in the middle of nowhere
As far from her home she could be.
It was finally getting dark.
She never traveled outside her home.
It hadn’t been so bad being outside and all alone
But once the darkness came she became nervous.
Every new sound frighten her.
The forest was alive and calling to her.
She followed what she thought were flies singing to her,
Leading her to a place where they seem to live.
With the light from the moon now showing her what they really were.
Little fairies dancing and singing.
By Cristina WilCraft
Read MoreA cup of tea, I see, I see, a lemony color, it tastes like pee.
Regrets, intents and dismay I display for this day which’ll stay away in the fray of this, Okay
Awesome ideas to think and progress, to digress and invest in the best test I can take.
Fake idealism, like the mistake of solipsism which shook me into antisocialism while I processed this impression. My intension was never to have, to understand it, to be lead into such a misery that wasn’t me, but I couldn’t be left in honesty’s sake...
By Seth McAllister
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