Category: Writing
For everyone by Zaynab Mohammed
It’s clear we can’t agree On the past, the present and how we came to be Our pain of not being recognized Hurts our decency So we treat one another With complacency space My parents come from war torn countries They didn’t want to leave their homelands, culture, family or friends They left for a
October Caterpillar by Liam Borhaven
Along the cool sidewalk it crawls across frigid pavement wandering around in this late fall an October caterpillar with no expectations born too late an early expiration space Yet it goes on as if at the dawn of life not worrying of the dire future it simply lives on eats, loves, crawls its bliss is
Her By Kit Sage
the simple way we fit together interlocking with the shy mocking femme fatale – You’re butter on a poppyseed bagel or coasters on the coffee table my very own sea raven. you’re gin and tonic on a parching summer’s day a perfectly aged cabernet a prepossessing paramour. heavens sent celestial animation saved me by resuscitation
Her Call by Lazarus Reise
Trigger warnings: mentions of blood and physical violence. space The monolith in the sky spun tauntingly, shedding bright white light across the misty horizon, the windswept bay, and the briny sea. It was just us two; the sailor and myself. For ten dollars a day, the isolation was worth it, and the quiet was nice. Our
I am of the Earth by Greg Elliott
So often do I want for home, for family. Where others seem so happily sheltered by their place and blood, I have long felt transient in both. Houses and kin have been left behind, their memory a mine once rich caved in with time, or burned quite literally to ash. I make wishes through my
Equations by Unknown
I don’t really know what love looks like except for a double-edged sword a qualification if certain a, b, and c conditions are met space I used to make so many excuses for my mother she was young she didn’t have a choice but there came a time when she could have used her voice
Mediocre By Kendra Johnson
This girl is not ready to tell her whole story so she offers it in short words and sentences cryptic phrases and pithy replies she loves stories so much they save her for awhile space She lives in her storybooks because they are safer than ordinary life never makes plans for the future because she
Aubade by Roisin Seifert
Your sheet silhouettefailing object permanenceIs a warm haunting
January 27th by Eden Nightingale
Blue light and black trees Cushioned silence beneath light feet Fish linger under ice
School by Eden Nightingale
Perched upon a weather worn post, he watches. The field, once a pasture, has become a nest of bowing grasses. Long shadows flee the setting sun. Orange light reflects off onyx eyes of the watcher. The silhouette of birds equal in number to the blades below. The sky is darkened with their number, as they
Autumn Tempest by Eden Nightingale
She walks down the old dirt road bare feet creating no dust. s White skinned trees hold high their garlands of gold dancing in the wind which whips dark hair across pink cheeks. s Her eyes search the sky of pale blues worn through with twisting white mists. s A rumble, more felt than heard
