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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    There is a monk who lives in the solemn monastery of my chest silent and robed with stooped shoulders and quiet shuffling feet. He prays devout little fellow in the dark antechamber of my ribs and if I close my eyes I can just barely feel him, there, near the back by the sloping she...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It seems as if I have an enemy, or if Freud were to take a break from his smoky study, putting down the cigar in the fading yellow light of the Vienna dusk filtering through the leaded glass windows, and offer his input, he might say: It seems as if I am subconsciously trying to sabot...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    White meat or dark meat? Mashed potatoes or stuffing? Foil-wrapped candies snatched stealthily (a pirate's booty) from the square-cut glass bowl by the front door: who wants a roll? gravy anyone? sockless feet padding over the Brillo pad carpet runner while the din of adult chatter ...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    frost hangs on leaves like children on weary mothers. suns rise, mothers cry....
  • Poetry > Sonnet
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    The number one fear of all people is rejection. They laugh it off, elbows propped up behind them on the bar and baby-faced vulnerability remains a closed door. But those nights, there is a silence so deep, the only sound is the suck of two lips pulling loneliness in and pushing it back out...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I love you in that little French café just south of Paris, where the moths swooped low under the white canvas awning to flutter drunkenly around the softly glowing lamps. The air was sweet with the smell of damp cobblestones and the fresh Coreopsis that sat in a blue...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Judy Monroe bustled to the front door with the bowl of brightly colored candy as the doorbell chimed its three-toned chorus. From her ears jingled festive pumpkins ornaments that swayed as she side-stepped baskets of gourds and life-sized tombstone figurines. She paused at the mirror hanging in the ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It’s the days like these that seem to fill the deep well of my existence, each fluid hour dripping into the next. The sky is always a shocking August blue, blazing with sun. But it’s a more vivid blue now, a deeper more intense blue like it weren’t a color, but a sensation floatin...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I can only assume the crickets are talking about me chirping vicious rumors in their foreign vocabulary which cuts through the descending summer night like heat lightning. I can only assume this because why else, then, would they suddenly stop as I walk by on this darkening June e...
  • College
    Guide > College Essays
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    In Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Caroline Bingley is a big, fat b-word. As a high school student, I feel justified calling her that, seeing as her attempts to command Mr. Darcy’s attention throughout the novel often stoop to the level of a high school girl (ahem, me, ahem). After all, Hell...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You’re much nicer in print, shimmering on the page below me, covered with alluring and masculine adjectives and nouns: humor, personality, rippling pectorals… Oh yes, you’re much nicer in the confines of my pen and ink world. The minute you leap off the page, assembling all my precious...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I pondered aloud one evening as I sat down to dine. “Where have they gone?” I looked down at the lavishly garnished story in front of me, brimming with savory juices and topped with all the trimmings (my mouth watered). Before my pondering, I had just been about to dig in. That...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I pour myself some of my mother's iced tea, and it tastes like late July on the porch swing with you, stifling hot under the cool eaves, holding the sweating glasses as we prop our feet on the railing and let our words sweeten the tea....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Under the crushing gravity of the stars, on the red dirt, still warm with memories of the sun, I can see infinity, inhale it, taste it on the back of my tongue, as I feel the weight of the sky pressing into me. The earth, so infantile and insignificant, is non-dimensional under the ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The first time I kissed you was in the bookstore in the Religion section. And there, with the arid smell of the millions of pages and the soft sounds of musical whispers that filtered through the rows of shelves, nothing could have prepared me. None of the lush fiction, descriptive and...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I struggled to stay afloat, but the rip tide held me like a mother to a wandering child. I opened my mouth to shout back to land, but was silenced by water. And I tried to dig my feet into the sandy bottom of consciousness, but the rushing tide poured out its foamy fingers and dragge...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The wind was so wild that day, sending the leaves, just yellow enough to be plucked from their branches, into an anxious waltz against the backdrop of the yawning sky, so very blue. They rushed past us with little consoling gestures, (patting shoulders, ruffling hair) and finally came t...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I never knew the world was cruel when I was there above the rest, but fate has played me for a fool and now the uphill climb's my test. And mercy hasn't hide nor hair been seen here where I now reside. I see a brighter light up there; to stay or climb I must decide. For if I st...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    How do I tell you that I want you so much that I write you haiku?...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    your eyelids droop closed like tulips wilting in spring. sleep, tired flower....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The time is half-past midnight and I am almost dreaming. I had been willing my mind to stop its tumultuous tossing and turning as I lay still as silence, when suddenly, you came to mind. I stopped my struggle and you smiled, sitting there at foot of my bed (I could almost feel the weight of...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Ah, you again. Flitting past my closed eyes under my lids over and over an impossible flash of smile (dear god, that smile), pan-searing my insides – then you're gone, leaving me alone with my muddled dreams, grasping blindly at the morning mist...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    Her voice was barely heard over the screaming clash of swords when she cried desperately, “Love is not a war!”. Yet the spirit of battle flashed dangerously in his eyes with each slash of his weapon. “How can you say that?” he screeched over the din of combat. “This is WAR!” His fea...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    If given normal circumstances, I order a Grand-Double-Shot-Venti-Caramel-extra- hot-extra-foam-extra-jump-with-two-sugars-cream- and-a-sprinkle-of-cinnamon-on-top- with-a-stir-stick latte. Yet, the mere fact that you walk past/casually flip your hair/and sit in front of my drooling...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    the morning is quiet and i (having just woken up in the tangle of cool wrinkled sheets still hazy below opaque clouds of dreams beneath the ceiling) plod quietlysoftlyslowly to the dim front porch (ah, rough wood under sleep-softened feet) with sweet dew on supple summer grass and you, ...

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