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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Why do we contradict ourselves so much? Hate is fire, yet love is fire, burning brilliant under the same God forsaken sun Who burns, too, for a world that remains ice frozen because of that fire Fire and ice Fire and ice With all this fire, shouldn't the ice melt? And when the ice melts,...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Around my neck, I bear the chains of faded gold and worn black string, through which I am bound to you I feel it thump against my chest just as I feel my heart beats synching with it It calls to me in silence; a silence no one else can hear “Sister, sister.” Yet, its persisting groping at ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A silver platter, growing, forcing its light through The darkness Consuming Until there is only darkness But there! He comes again Strong as before Alight the path ahead Through ominous woods, down desolate roads, up to the door untouched Searching Finding The hidden The isolated And ...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    One, two, three, yes, there were three But all I saw was you and me The sweetened laughter and the glowing smiles Kept drowing out the drowning child Her hand went cold in mine, ice to touch When did a smile, a wave, stop being enough? Was a kiss, was a kiss Worth all this? For the joy we ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    "Remember to take your snacks and your umbrella!" "I know, Mom!" I called from behind my locked bedroom door, scrambling to get a T-shirt over my head. What a great start to the day... I thought to myself sarcastically. And to think I had to audacity to plan on taking a shower t...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    A lie, a lie, a lie I made you into though you were true to yourself and me. You’ve grown. Encircling and ensnaring the virgin, clean surfaces I used to see. Surroundings touch and feel and live, but meeting you is numb and an eery silence greets my anxious nerves. Silhouetted by the ligh...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    Everyone's story begins with one that isn't their own; a prologue to every living being and all the ones who are no longer. Thus, I begin my own tale with not my birth, but my mother's. Elsa Breth was born in Czechoslavakia, and was the 5th of 10 children; also the youngest to survi...
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