SNHU Creative Writing Posts

Naming Day

by Ann Hosler Water trailed down the window in rivulets, tracing the contours of my ghosted face. You wished me a happy birthday, nestled in sterile sheets of your hospital bed. Freshly woken from the coma of your surgery, you couldn’t remember my name. The surgeon removed a basketball-sized spleen…

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Dandelions

by Lauren Leigh Powell I don’t know why my father hated dandelions so much. My Aunt Edna told me once that it was a “man thing.” That somehow all men, when they are the steward of their own yard, become convinced that the bright sprinkling of yellow is a punishment…

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Things That Go THUMP in the Night

by Jeffery Williams Somewhere in the distance, there resonates familiar THUMP BUMP noises of clumsy little feet. In a bedroom, down a hall, in the kitchen, down the stairs, above my head, in my head, somewhere there is enthusiasm and mischief stirring. Here at the very bottom floor, surrounded by…

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Bucket List

by The Poet Darkling Today was …one of those days; ……one of those days ………when you realize you …………shouldn’t’ve waited; ……………you shouldn’t wait; ………………when you discover …………………places people call ……………………“Climax;” ………………………“Crapstone;” …………………………“Cut and Shoot;” ……………………………“‘Possum Kingdom;” ………………………………“Rest and Be Thankful;” when you learn …these places could ………quite possibly be flooded……

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Contentment

by Gil Hoy Last night I dreamed the workers painting my house Brought all of their children to work in the morning With brushes and buckets of water, to wash and to clean To scrub the faces, like paintings on canvas, that had appeared overnight on the walls of my…

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Power Outage

by John Timothy Robinson The elegance of light through sconce-dust glass with swirled, transparent fingerprints in grooves is not as pleasing when the chill sweeps past, this image, so cliché, yet still as true. Six tiny candles flicker in darkness as frozen rain hammers tree-limbs to the ground. They said…

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Photo ID

by Amy Covel I think we all look back fondly At how naïve we were Starting that very first job. We think: “I look nothing like that ID badge I wear on my shoulder.” And it isn’t even just because You now wear your hair differently Or because you got…

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The Putrid Place

by Sonia Pipkin Moments before the sliding doors announced an arrival, the gravel beneath the war riddled shoes stung through the soles. After a couple of deep breaths and hopes that it would be a better night than it was before, she walked through the gates of a place worse…

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Pietà

by Gonzalinho da Costa On the photo of Jennelyn Olaires grieving over her husband, Michael Siaron, published in The New York Times (August 3, 2016) He is the poor man unjustly executed by the state. She is the desolate woman of inconsolable loss. He dies sputtering in the darkness of…

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Winter Wish

by Thomas Griffin If only I could throw myself into this black sleet rushing down street, hugging the lip of the curb, dashing down the hungry mouth of the culvert hurtling through sudden darkness into the roar of a thousand other streams fleeing this steely-eyed November in New England— run…

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