Etiqueta: little chews
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“If I Were a Plum Cake” by Snigdha Agrawal
(baked only at Christmas) If I were a plum cake,All fruity, rich, and nutty,You’d find me once a year.At Indian homes aplenty. It’s that time when ovens start to hum,And aunties start their quest.Searching for whiskey and rumMix with ingredients for that extra punch Flour would puff its chest and…
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3 Poems by Bob McAfee
Spider There is a red fly swatteron top of the refrigerator,three steps away from any pointin the kitchen, sure deathfor any airborne invader,no mercy shown. On the windowsillis one of those lidded,round containerswhich originally heldbalsamic vinegarfor a take-out salad. She uses it to capturespiders, gently,easing them into the cylinderthen sliding…
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“The First Face We See” by Carolyn Babjak
Name… Date of Birth? “John Kendall. Twelve-five-eighty-five.” “Have a seat. Someone will call you soon.” Without looking up from her computer, the woman at the desk—her name badge read Judy—slid the glass partition shut with a thud. John Kendall did as he was told and took a seat in the…
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5 Poems by Wayne F Burke
A Crow Swoops with fingertip wings, bouncingonce on thegrass, then taking off–little legs like landinggear–to the roof of thePost Office, gray graniteblock rock solid in Grant-style–the General buriedin the basement besidehis cross-eyed wife, Julia, whileFish & Ward, Grant’s swindlers,installed on an upper floor,condemned to lick stampsonto eternity. ~~ ? a…
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“Sweet Serendipity” by Pegah Rahmati Nezhad
sitting alone in my roomi sawa tiny insect on the wall i jumped to check what it isjust to finda neon green creaturewith lace wingsof the same color i didn’t even know its nameor whetherit’s a friendor an enemy after googling…i realizedit’s harmlessan uninvited friendwho has taken refugein the warmth…
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“Beatrice Entombed” by Devonne Brown
Millard watched the undertakers close the drawer that held Beatrice’s casket, and waited until everyone left the cemetery. A dusty brown cloud followed a parade of black limousines crawling their way up the side of a mountain to the main road. The last thing he wanted was to be part…
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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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