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- Nonfiction > Personal Experience
Sometimes I try so hard but the words won’t come and they sit heavy in the pit of my stomach like stones and they make my eyes fill and my head thick and I can’t concentrate or think because the words aren’t there and they are impossible to put down on paper or to release into the air and the ... - Poetry > Free VerseIn London, Moscow, Glasgow or Prague, Someone is praying, to a God or a Dog In London, Moscow, Glasgow or Prague, they're singing a song are the underdogs, In London, Moscow, Glasgow or Prague A child is praying to the UnderGod Dog. But the best he can do, when he hears their song, i...
- Poetry > Free VerseI. Once, a sky-blue Pickup flew down the block. I don’t know where it came from, or where It was going in such a hurry, but It sure was beautiful. II. You drank your coffee From a porcelain mug. It had A chip in the side and I wanted to know When you had dropped it, but I didn’t ask...
- Poetry > Free VerseI. You were Unbroken; you did not know, you could not see that when the empty noises Of the plaster people began To echo through your silent walls you were Completed. The storm was coming, but you Could not leave; your heart was a clay brick in The foundations of your fathers. II. Yo...
- Poetry > Free Verse10 Ten is double digits Is noticing what that girl is wearing and Those boys are cute Of noticing weight and how you’re not skinny Which is true but you’re not fat either Is making friends you know are going To be yours forever And realizing that they aren’t Ten is Transition Ten i...
- Poetry > Free VerseThis is the ballad of my children. Unborn, fatherless, nonexistent figments Who will fight tooth and nail their education Condemned to live in ignorance, happily Accepting their blissful abandon Such is the story of my children. Rejected from the Heaven of their myths Learned before they lear...
- Poetry > Free VerseRomance, decomposing It was the era of the dirty jokes Of the sweaty palms and the jittery nerves Of the giggles and the chases and the awkward birthday gifts I remember falling asleep, smile on my lips, Your name on my phone, and the faded taste of a Jolly Rancher In my mouth; you were a ...
- Fiction > Scripts & PlaysCharacters: James London, a tall, brown-haired man, young, mild faced with a big smile, an accountant at a law firm, recently deceased Lucy London, his wife, small, blond and pretty in a mild, easy way, a writer Bryan Jeffries, James’ best childhood friend, 23, an illustrator, heavy drinker Sa...
- Poetry > Free VerseI’m not as good with words as you, With your politics and your words that stick, slimy slick to my mind and I find That my hands are died red, cause I wished you were dead Like Macbeth and his wife, how they stole Duncan’s life Well, you stole my pride, hid it inside, somewhere where I ca...
- Poetry > Free VerseBam Emergency exits are for leaving Yet they could not leave He stood in their way Was the red neon light still glowing? Bam What about when the smoke filled the room? And the alarms went off And the people began to scream And Batman on the screen couldn’t save them As the dark knight fi...
- Poetry > Free VerseThere was the time I forgot I had feet Feet? I thought, what are they? Toes are strange branches balancing bounces Bounces that come from my knees and eyelashes That act like guards to protect my fermenting eyeball from Outwardly demons that cling, enchanted, to Kidnap the inward dealings of...
- Fiction > Scripts & PlaysI don’t remember a lot about you, about us, I think maybe I’ve blocked it all out. I mean, I remember your face. How could I not? And, and…I remember…hands. I remember hands. I remember my hands touching your hands and your hands touching my face and my hair and my hands. I remember how you ...
- Fiction > Romance“Postcards From the Edge” June 18 My Love, I arrived late last night in the City that Never Sleeps! Or…that might be Los Angeles, I’m not sure. But either way, I’m here in New York now! I can already feel that this is where it’s going to happen for me, right in here in the chaos ...
- Fiction > Realistic FictionThe cello is an old woman now. Her arched wooden sides, once glossy and resplendent with varnish, have cracked and faded, their majesty decaying into something like forgotten beauty. Her scroll, ornately carved, has slowly chipped and fallen to ruin over the years, gradually crumbling under the many...
- Fiction > Realistic FictionThe sunlight filters down through the immense canopy of trees, thick and densely packed in an umbrella of waxy green. Junipers, Elms, Oaks and Birches are all lit on fire together in the radiant heat of the sun. The first signs of autumn are beginning to show, in the few orange leaves blossoming on ...
- Poetry > Free VerseLove is a many-splendored thing They say that, but I don’t Even know exactly what a splendor is But, from what I’ve seen? I’d say that a splendor Is like a splinter Only lodged inside your heart, and not the bottom of your foot Or the soft pad of your finger as You try to fix the tree...
- Poetry > Free VerseThe words are just words. Yet they leap off the page like animals, claw their way through and lodge their fangs into your heart. You try to ignore them, but they settle on your shoulders like the proverbial angel and devil, until you can’t walk upright, and your shoulders slump o...
- Hot Topics > Pride & PrejudiceI heard a story today in school. It was at an assembly, but it wasn't a student that told it. It was a teacher. Not a teacher I'd ever had, though I will next year, yet thee story still resonated so deeply withe me, so deeply that it felt like my own pain, like our school's pain. ...
- Poetry > SonnetThe Sailor Boy walks Hand in hand with his girl Their fingers intertwined And his love is real And he’ll always be true As true as the sea in his mind The Sailor Boy walks With his girl by his side Below the reaching tree His heart is for her Yet he yearns all the time To see his hom...
- Poetry > Free VerseOphelia, it seems to me, Really was the victim here But still, when Shakespeare wrote his words He named his work after Hamlet Ophelia, who killed herself And witnessed her world falling apart But still, when Shakespeare wrote his words, He named his work after Hamlet Horatio, it seems ...
- Poetry > Free VerseYou wear a gilded mask to hide your blackened eyes You hide the thing that you've become beneath your glimmering disguise To dissuade them from your words You brocade yourself in gold You can tell where you are headed with your silver heart so cold Still you place the crown atop you...
- Nonfiction > MemoirThe light streams down through the trees, lighting the orange leaves on fir, colors blending together like stained glass in a chapel window. The gaudy reds and blues of the jungle gym have become the cool, muddy browns of a cliff and as we climb, our small hands become claws, our arms wings. Ruthie ...
- Poetry > SonnetThe wooden boards worn and old The curtains green, tattered and worn Costumes colorful, but used and torn Box office dusty where tickets are sold The rugs faded where eager feet have strolled This is the place where magic is born Here, this theatre old and forlorn Here is where the stories ar...
- Poetry > Free VerseCrisp, cool day Autumn leaves strewn across The mulch and dirt of the playground The sun too bright Laughter of children as the trees dapple the red And blue metal Jungle gym, throwing Shadows over the children, winter coats Unzipped, waving behind like capes As they run, chasing each othe...
- Poetry > SonnetThe message of a thousand words some to laugh and some to cry Fluttering through like hummingbirds never to stop until they die never to stop to wonder why Slipping away like a snatch of a song quietly, quietly, a gentle sigh never to stay for very long only to pause then move along going b...
