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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    "What do I want to do?" he replied. "I want to create something. Something extremely quotable, something that stands the test of time, something transcendent. Something like the last page of The Great Gatsby or a Sara Bareilles song - 'something commensurate to man'...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    Sometimes I wish that the world was all black and white, you know? Decisions would be easy and people would be straightforward. Sometimes it's hard to realize it's not like that, life is messy, made up of gray, dense fog....
  • Reviews > Book Reviews
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    There are certain books which touch your heart and leave a lasting imprint on your soul. We carry their impressions with us throughout the course of our lives and consider their concepts long after we’ve returned them to their places on the shelves. The Book Thief, written by Markus Zusak, is on...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    The “Mysteries” sign swings slightly as it hangs from the ceiling on clear filament. The people hurry past my table - it’s almost closing time. A girl stops to show her father the book she’s chosen to check out and I resist the urge to ask her to let me know what she thinks of it: it’s a...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    There was a summer squall in my hometown So I decided to take off. I rose through the cumulonimbus, The thunderheads, the anvils; A fork of hissing lighting came within inches of my face. As I broke through the cloud barrier I glimpsed the orange light of late Afternoon; Thunder still compl...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    I don’t believe in fate, I said, I don’t believe in fate. Whatever caused the wreckage, It must have been too late. ‘Coincidence is not,’ You said, ‘A reason for this date. The rocks were there to lure the ship, Just like an open gate.’ It was bad weather that day, it was, ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    There were two things I prized at Evan’s, the repair shop where I worked. First, there was the old radio. Someone brought it in on one of the first days of my employment. I was a kid then, inexperienced. But even then I saw the value of an antique like that. It wasn’t just valuable; it ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I walked across the frozen lake to see what pictures I could take into my mind, to try and slake the thirst for those things lost. The sky was blue, the ice was white - was dry and bare in the stark light - the air like gems before the night shining none too softly. The distance showed...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Brown eyes look up at me with faithful docility. The strong otter-tail, the angled head, black ears perking forward. Unconditional love never ceases to amaze me, no matter how often I see its face....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    i am in love with the sky. i find its deep blue expanse sunset color streaks graceful arcing clouds amazing. and every time i look at it, pieces of it (chinks, and rounded glass) lodge in my irises shine there forever....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Dust of dirt and lint scattered up into my nose made me cough and sneeze. I dug through the drawer until my fingers brushed something smooth and tugged it out. My hand opened and my eyes saw a shiny red silk ribbon, in perfect condition. I set it aside on the white wooden desk. I dug thro...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    poetry is chasing after a dream - and incomprehensibly spectacular thread left over from the nightland - chasing like a startrail is a comet adjacent to the buttery moon. poetry is chasing after ideas, but only rarely do we netcapture them in their entirety, with skill, if at all. the wor...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Sometimes the minutes feel like hours the days like weeks the months like years the decades like milleniums. Other times the seconds slip through your fingers like sand, the clock hands spinning a million miles per hour. And you're left standing in the dusk wondering in the twiligh...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    if it were warm, goosebumps would not arise on legs and the sand would heat to gold and the waves would feel like a cool breeze rather than ice untold. if it were warm, not much would change. if i had the means, i would build a bridge across the bay with wood and stone and ice the wind...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The sunshine is sparkling on the water like a thousand tiny flashbulbs. Grains of sand are rustling in my ear like a thousand whispered secrets. Sand and stone, and abalone... Ripples cascade until my pen is dry - a thousand little voices. Lights across the bay are shining twice re...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The boats knock against the ropes and wooden pilings, all sea-worn and waterlogged from the endless tide. Twilight… pink-tinged water laps softly at the shore. An osprey, brown and white, clutches a silver catch and lets loose his piercing call....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A glass of ice-cold lemonade, more ice than lemon, dripping condensation down onto the wooden table, looking out to the greenness. A pen in one hand, clutched poised to write, looking down at the blank page. A mild breeze stirs the warm air surrounding. Words come, the pressure of pen...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    Does no one desire to hear the droplet sound of wind chimes all day long? Colors wash into my mind - pale, pastel pink, blue - light gold of the chimes....
  • Fiction > Historical Fiction
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    A cool wind blew into the maiden’s face as she gazed out towards the horizon. The sea, calm and tranquil under a darkening sky, reflected clouds tinged pink by the setting sun. Down the hill in the harbor rested a ship, knocking softly against its moorings. It was the ship that would change eve...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Breezes laugh through supple branches and tease luscious red fruit into a dance. The mahogany branches are rooted deep into the green fringe, casting their nets as far as they will go to find what they’re looking for. The orchard is surrounded by peeling white fenceposts; bordered by a no...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    i. Oranges I can see oranges in the woman’s shirt, in the sunset, in the fruit of the bowl, and in the boy’s eyes. ii. Summer That warm itchy humid breeze uncomfortable but soothing at the same time, carrying the tastes of trees oranges citrus sun barbecue and wildflowers, s...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    This, a letter stuck with a stamp fondly licked and slipped into the mailbox, is to the sunshine. To the warm air, pleasant afternoons spent on the porch listening to music and watching the grass wave. This is to the man teaching his daughter to ride her bike – and both of them laughi...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Is it possible to go above the sky? Is it possible to travel up past the blue, to soar over the shimmering blue ocean and misty purple mountains, color-stained boulders and dark green trees? To leave the hills, gold-flecked and rolling; the rocky shores, behind. Or can we pass life c...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    What’s he doing there? A dark, glowering boy, clenched hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his coat. In his eyes, there burns anger. It’s smoldering. But yet, it’s a front, a brick wall built to keep strangers out. If you look through the cracks, you can see light escaping. An ...

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