Featured Writing

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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SNHU Student Posts

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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No

by Mary Waugaman No. I used this word on purpose. No is definite. No is final. Words are power and I choose mine carefully. Which is why I said No. But you don’t respect my No. You don’t hear my No. Whether I have allowed it too long or you…

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Insomnia

by Kalah McLaughlin We lay vertical in our bed I hear and feel his breathing we’re so close – and yet, so far He’s in another world and I, am dizzy watching him I move closer – Nose to nose I blink – two times, three He feels my eyes…

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Pale Queen

by Elizabeth Shannon A solitary nail… in a wall where the wasp nest once hung, hardly a sigh from his side of the bed here only holds a remainder of lace woven from mud, a life delicately spun I observed this empty space daily my gray paper palace, our imaginary…

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An Old Man and a Basketball

by Chris Boucher Following the hollow sound of a bounding ball Into an empty early morning gym, an old man starts to shoot solo. The long dormant floor creaks and moans And the rim rattles in the echoey cold— Echoes like his old skills. He lives with that Like he…

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Patches

by Chris Boucher My pet beagle is expanding my world. One day she sniffs out rabbit pellets behind the house. Another day it’s a freshly-dug hole under the shed – my neighbor says a hedgehog did it. On yet another, she returns proudly with a deer antler in her mouth….

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A Man Walks into a Bar

by Robert Barhite I hate cops. I grew up in Postville, Iowa, way up in the northeast corner of the state and not too far from the Mississippi River. Nothing much ever changed in my hometown. I went to the same red brick two story grade school built in 1908…

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Making Her Way

by Elliott Laurence She’s closer to ninety there she is though this sunny morning making her way Hitch in her stride cane in hand. years of osteo’ I’d bargain have left her hunched over. Past the used car lot. Pushing her way past the H&R Block. Never seen her turn…

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Grief Over Tea: A Letter to Dad

by Mindy Farmer Dear Dad, Grief came to me this morning. Not like it was yesterday. Not like 14 numbed by my reality – An unimaginable future without you. No, grief knocked softly, gracefully sitting beside me; Contemplation in a cup of tea. I wish I could offer her a…

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