Categoría: little chews
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“he wanted to write” by John Yamrus
he wanted to write likeHemingway,but it came outsounding like bad Bukowski. ontop of that,he had nothingreal or new to say,but that didn’t stop himfrom saying it again and again and again.
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“Pumpkin Moon” by W. M. Pienton
It was a foggy night. It was spring. The glow of the full moon cut through the haze. The two sisters sat on the front porch. “I like when you visit. You should do it more often. Orange moon tonight.” Lilly took a drag off a joint. “A Pumpkin Moon.”…
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“THE TAWNIES” by Catherin J Pascal Dunk
for Venie Holmgren Daily walk, dusk on Maple,an upwardly mobile familyspots me first. One swoops from jacaranda,golden-eyed, flashing a death stare—startles me halfway there. Two more shadows fleet,cryptically absorbin cedar tree, harden. I drop, perch lowin my gutter, house dressriding high; knickers exposed. Humans dwell so noisy—clashing music, outdoor phone…
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2 Poems About Muddy the Opossum for African School Children
The Mud Cake Muddy, the Opossum, made a mistake.After his mommy made the mud cake,He stole it from the family’s den.He didn’t want to share it.He scampered from the hollow log,Then scurried into the woodsAnd down to the riverbank.While he was rolling in the wet sand,The mud pie fell from…
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“Asterisk” by Peter Lingard
They said, at the finishthe Italian and Iwere in joint first placewould share the gold medalas the clock measuredin hundredths of a secondcouldn’t separate usWhat a clockI ran for the finish tapehe dived for the finish lineUnique, they saidas if we should be proudThe camera at the finishing lineshows my…
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“THE JOY OF PURPOSE” by Catherin J Pascal Dunk
Lillian woke at 4 am, sweaty, disoriented. Her purple locks clumped damply around her forehead. The cats were mewing up a storm, half an hour earlier than usual. Have you ever had a dream so vivid that real life seemed like a delusion? In the bathroom, she ran a washcloth…
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“Running” by Mykyta Ryzhykh
He runs screaming. His breathing is ragged, and his ears are blocked from his own screaming. He runs screaming. He runs in the thick of the forest, dodging spruce branches, tripping over stones and roots sticking out of the ground, rolling down huge dunes. And in a huge clearing, he…
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“In the Bunker” by Matias Travieso-Diaz
I am confident that in the end freedom and democracywill prevail over terror and tyranny.Doc Hastings It is April 30, 1945, and the Leader hides in the Führerbunker, a subterranean air-raid shelter in Berlin. He continues his desperate attempt to maintain an illusion of control as the enemy’s army closes…
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“Carlotta” by Peter Lingard
A work friend introduced me to Carlotta at an office gathering. “She’s Calabrian, toils in our Rome office, and is reportedly a pain in the arse to work with.” Still, when in Melbourne … She was tall and had brown eyes with flecks of green, her eyelashes and eyebrows black.…
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5 Poems by Makenna Johnson
Lessons Learned Being irresistibly pretty only gets you so far,like up to his mouthwhich you assumed would leadto his heart.But he was just hungryand when you stick your tonguefar enough back in his throat you only find the stomach.Home to all greed, gluttony and silly girls past. ~~ Victim of…
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5 Poems by Ivan Jenson
Ghosting You are the cat napI wish I could takeyou are the sweetpie I don’t knowhow to bakeyou are the aftershockthat makes my body quakeand despite all thisyou just had togo and flakeon our plansto see wherethis thingmight gomaybe I shouldjust take thiswhole thing slowbut in the winterI always seem…
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“Lady-In-Waiting” by James Moran
For the ritual, I had five balloons filled with helium and then tied to my fingers—three to fingers of my right hand and two to fingers of my left. The employee at Giant, bless her, suspended her perplexity, filled the balloons, and dove into the difficult task of tying their…
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“A Leap of Faith” by Peter Lingard
Today we’re going to jump at ten thousand feet into a beautiful, cloudless blue sky. We are told the static line to which we would normally attach the ripcord has been broken, so we’ll have to pull it manually. The plane is a little small, and we all assume the…
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4 Musical Poems by Strider Marcus Jones
BLACK WITCH the way you drink your beerstraight from the bottle-my low civilisation could toppleover you.some talking dirty in my earwhile you ride at full throttle,i’m in deeper than the darkest shade of blue-straight down the middlehead thrown back and gigglebowstringrockingfinger pluckingbluegrass fiddle-harbour in oblivionblack witch of obsidianborn in that…
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