By Michele Lee The rain began the day after I arrived, and except for a few pockets of sunshine it continued until the morning I left. I could not have been more content. A steady pitter patter matched the sound and pace of my fingers on a keyboard when a weekend of typing, I spent.… Leer más Pitter Patter and Pops of Pink
By Michele Lee My true story begins with a change in airplane seats… Before boarding a flight for Oregon last week, I was surprised to receive a text message indicating that my seat had changed from 8F to 4F. How odd, I thought, but at least I was moving up in the world. I boarded… Leer más A Sweet Love Story
By Terveen Gill A picture says a thousand words. I refuse to believe that horrid idiom. My picture says only one: ugly. Looks aren’t the problem here. I’m quite handsome for a man with thirty-two years behind him. Black hair, a full head by the way, brown eyes, dreamy some say, straight nose, strong jawline,… Leer más No Photographs Please
By Michele Lee In Verse, Writing With my writer brain occupied with polishing a manuscript, it seems the perfect time to feature award-winning American poet, Kim Addonizio and her bold and unapologetic poem, “What do Women Want?” This poem contains one bad word and lots of sass. Enjoy! “What Do Women Want?”by Kim Addonizio I… Leer más “What do Women Want?” (poet spotlight)
By Michele Lee My eyes are burning, and my legs are numb,but it is worth it because my first draft is done!What began as two short stories combined into oneis now forty-five chapters (almost 85,000 words)written over the course of nineteen months. I wrote it, dreamt it, lived it, imagined it, read it, and edited… Leer más the Write Path
Fierce winds suddenly rise and threaten to destroy everything. She is stretched and tested by the pushing, pulling, howling, and screaming. The weathered door whistles and bends causing her to tremble and quake. Run She does not. Collapse She does not. Bravely, She braces the splintered door when gales whip and shake. Give up She… Leer más Vintage Strength by Michele Lee
As children, we were very naughty. We climbed the trees and hung on the branches. We stoned the raw mangoes and ate them by winking like monkeys. We used to play near the lake and dive into the water like frogs. When the little fish was biting our feet, we felt like someone was tickling… Leer más Childhood Memories #poetry By Jane Aguiar
by mikesteeden Her dark veil, a time-honoured symbol of secret sin, and regardless, her private affair, as was the flaxen-haired girl’s forbidding, yet disguised scowling disposition. In one hand a cute little pink tablet that, when devoured…to be taken along with a strongly recommended swig of any and all sugary thirst-quenching beverages…ends life in an… Leer más UNINVITED MELANCHOLY
I awoke in the middle of a play that had already begun. I knew it was a play because we were on a stage. There was a large audience and lights and props. There were other actors on the stage dressed in costumes that made no sense unless we were in the middle of some… Leer más Production by mRobins
by Manuela Timofte «In vain», for you can’t, in vain, for you will fail, in vain, for you will not have enough money… They all are words often used in our society and with a very low connotation most of the time. I have often heard them in my life. Probably you, too. But is… Leer más Is All in vain?
by Manuela Timofte Every new year is a new chapter of your life. Use your chance to write an incredible story for yourself surrounded by your loved ones! Happy New Year! Images from Pixabay Love, Manuela
By Michele Lee Tasting fresh basil straight from the garden is a mouth-awakening delight. Traces of soil and sun, with a hint of spice, released with each bite. More flavorful is our rooted plant than from its cousin, sold in the market down the road – the plant with lighter green leaves under fluorescent lights.… Leer más Living Green and Dancing with Love
She now plants landmines where she once stationed azaleas but then spring is long past now, high sun skirmishes beseech to ignite the bonfires of autumn worse still, Jack Frost stirs rubbing his eyes, yawning rousing himself once more mischief, as ever his vexing wheeze Whatsoever that was then when the ball was still in… Leer más A CLOAK OF TREASURES By mike Steeden
By Sarah Reichert Good morning! For those of you who’ve been following me through the month of November, this marks the final installment of surviving NANOWRIMO (National Novel Writing Month). I’ve been flowing with a life-stages theme, and had intended to title this week “Retirement” but the thing with NANO is that only some of… Leer más NANOWRIMO Week Four: The Final Countdown
by Manuela Timofte «It is not right! Wrong! You are lying! You do not know what you are talking about. You are a fool!» We use many words to express our anger because the one in front of us does not believe our words. Maybe, we do it because his words do not agree with… Leer más Your Truth or Mine?
(Blog Mattew) if there’s no mediation between flowers and fists then everything becomes either flowers or fists as we know there’s gotta be room for beauty and the sublime when they’re needed as well as might and discipline when they’re needed too cause it’s a foolish thing to imagine things can or even ought to… Leer más Flowers & Fists by Matthew Robins
by Manuela Timofte I look back everywhere. I go in a circle. I do not see anything. I can’t find a way out. It’s dark and foggy, and I am scared. … Yet, I wake up from my sleep and wake up slowly. I feel my destiny in the things I am not afraid of.… Leer más How to get rid of fog?
Aroused in autumn jubilee, yellowy orange-tinged skirts twirl about, merrily dizzying themselves as they flutter down among a thousand miniature painted carrousels. Copyright BBYCGN – All Rights Reserved https://monikajeneva.wordpress.com/
by Manuela Timofte One day at the market a lady who was selling apples had two piles of them. At the beginning, it seems strange to see how the same apples, coming from the same apple tree are categorised in two piles: small and big apples. Then thinking, it is normal for it is what we… Leer más You, Me & Us
Dry, withered, desolate, broken from my roots. Driven by the wind, a perpetual rolling mass. Tossed around as pleased by forces that supersede. They are unaware that it is I who no longer cares. Objections arise when there’s fire in the belly and passion in the heart. Why talk of dreams that were doused long… Leer más Tumbleweed by Terveen Gill