SNHU online creative writing Posts

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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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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Accelerated Ending

by The Poet Darkling I. Loss nighttime I sleep in shadows of sweat and urine. the center square of my quilt shines yellow and wet. I never hear uncle come. I can’t. his shape blocks the moon sliver. I keep my eyes shut tight. he lifts me up and away….

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Awake v. Alive

by Taylor Banuchie It’s time. I’m prostrate before a glowing figure, so spectacularly bright that my eyes combust, merely ashes now in my fire-pit sockets. I reach out in supplication, and Ascendance reaches back. Our fingertips touch, and we disappear into each other. I don’t miss my eyes because I…

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Notes for a Plain Sonnet

by John Timothy Robinson They called my sonnet a disregard of form, prefer instead work that preserves, revives a beauty now which makes a reader worn of meter, rhyme, what day it was, the time. We don’t though often talk that way, emphatic to modulate a voice, almost of air….

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Morning in Yangon

by The Poet Darkling It’s always been about the tea. Black. Sweet. Dollop of curdled milk. Everyone has a shop. and they know how you like it by reading your face. You take yours creamy strong sweet. In a back room, salty little fishes bubble in a cauldron over hot…

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Sassyfras Jones

by Gloria Holsinger Sassyfras swiftly dug up the ginseng roots with well-practiced hands, then placed them in the burlap sack she always carried on such missions. All the while she kept her ears perked for unusual sounds in the forest. She pushed her wild, strawberry blonde hair away from her…

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