Creative
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Cliffs near Dieppe, 1882
By AodhĂĄn Ridenour Photo of “Cliffs near Dieppe, 1882” by Claude Monet. Painted blisters, round and random,childlike or elderlyâdepending onperspective, or what you thinkyou know, or someone elsehas told you. Blues so smooth they make thepink look jagged, untouched sectionof the 64-pack, greens and grayssqueezed from a spectrumlike the Pillars of Creation. Humanity perverse, itâs not a surfaceto traverse; I wouldnât want tolay out on that beach.Yet everybodyloves to gaze,talk, and stare. A scene of pastel painted blisters,woven, doubled,dectuple stacked;a knife slit skin revealsits melted crayon profiles. I hated you at first, thenI loved you, standing backa couple paces,lacking glasses. âItâs Impressionist,â they say, âso what is your impression?âShould I…
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Breaking Silence
By: Kristen Craycraft âEvery poem breaks a silence that had to be overcomeâ – Adrienne Rich. My words are my words,They need to be heard,The same goes for you,You deserve to be heard too. Poetry makes noise,Overcoming the deafening silence,Writing through struggles with poise,Running away from violence. What good is it knowing words,And having a voice,If you remain silent,Refusing your choice?
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Mapleâs Soliloquy
By Alyssa Phifer Photo by Pexel Stock Images My branches nearly brush her windowsill She sleeps inside so sweetly âtil the sun Shines through my leaves, warm green glows soft into Her dreams, her waking moments intertwined With mineâthough I do not know how to sleep Or wakeâI wonder what this might be like To lay my body down, to rest beneath The shade of someone elseâs outstretched arms I stand still, tall and strongâmy roots reach down, Dig deep to raise me higher than before I stand, I growâshe sleeps, she dreams and wakes To see her limbs seem longer, running out To share her dream with meâtogether, we…
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Done.
By Meg Salizzoni âMors irrumat omnia. Death fucks us all.â âLeigh Bardugo in Ninth House mors omnibus adest memento mori words meant to soothe calm prepare redirect divert numb to the eventual end of which we do not consent? instead, mors irrumat omnia. latin is a dead language already. we were doomed from the start.
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Revenge
by Alyssa Fallavolitti We were happy, but then you stomped on my goddamn heart. And like the fucking idiot I am, I forgave you. But that’s what I wanted you to think. I’ll admit, at first, I wanted to believe you’d change. At first, I wanted to give you another chance, but all those words you said to me replayed in my mind like a broken record. All the bruises on my body told me there was no hope for you. And like the selfish bastard you are, you thought you had the upper hand in our relationship, but it was me all along. It was all about me. Your…
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Vengence
By Alexis Craft We were happy. Too happy. So, I stomped on your pretty little heart. And like the fucking idiot you are, you forgave me. Or so I thought. I believed I had the upper hand in our relationship, but to my surprise, you had it all along. My mood was based around yours; our conversations were all about you and your day, and our love was on your terms. But from the outside looking in, it was pure. That stunt I pulled was meant to be our end, and it almost was, but then I decided I wasnât done with you. I wasnât done with the attention you…
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Felix
By Rachel Hoarau (Photo by Pixel Free Images) My paw pads arenât callused like my motherâs. They are soft and pink. The light is bright, and I can hardly see. Mom licks my head Says bye bye and runs out of the den I want to go out there, too! It looks so bright and green. A year has gone by and Iâm running every day, Crushing green sprouts in soft soil and spilling down over the hillside, nearly falling into the chittering brook. There is another like me in the brookâs wavy water. He is red and white with deep brown eyes. I dance with him. I think he…
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The Weight of Kevlar
By Ryan Stryffeler Yesterday I was helping my daughter get ready for school She put on her Kevlar backpack while I tied her shoes âIf anything happens, I love youâ I said with a smile And gave her an extra-long hug to hold her close for a while And smell her thick hair, place my lips on her scalp, For a moment unconscious of anything else I looked at her then, so trusting, so pure, So ignorant of what sheâll be forced to endure They grow up so fast, everyone says But why must growing up bring her closer to death?
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Angelica
By Thea Angeles (Photo by Adobe Stock) Innocent and demure she may seem The moment you first encounter her; But as time goes by and by, Get to know her more And youâre in for a surprise. Yes, sheâs still that ingenue you knew That fragile and innocent flower; Only later, you will find A free-spirited princess she actually is Especially in times of adrenaline and excitement.
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The Doll in the Woods
By Mackenzie Elmer (Photo by Connor Beer) I saw a dollstuck on a fencewhile walking todayin the forest dense. Her head was smashed in,her eyes were cracked.Her lovely white dressthe crows had ransacked. She looked so lonelysitting thereon rusted barbed wire,rotting in despair. I thought a lot abouttaking her home,rescuing her from her gravein the moldering loam. I’d fix her right upâtil sheâs good as new.I’d clean her faceand polish her shoes. But I knew it was pointless,she was too far gone.So I looked straight aheadand quietly moved on.
