by Stephen Mead Is this pen & a million other quills from a still living bird. My hand is yours’ wiping sweat from your face & finding some trace to form. It is resolved now. It is patient & the night blooms with that light of quiet faith & hunger….
SNHU Creative Writing Posts
Chockolade
by Aurora DePuy Gossip started brewing the day he arrived. It was to be expected in a town with just under a thousand people. He’d bought a shop and was cleaning the window the first time I passed. Our eyes met and his hand stilled on the glass. Sister Pfeiffer…
Her Dumb Friends
by Cecile Pecoraro My journey to the office each day begins with a drive around Jackson Park. After one block I must veer right to continue up the street, Park Avenue, that holds the 2.27 acre, two-block long park in its grasp. Despite its size, the park is home to…
Auguries (Another Mad Lover’s Lament)
by Stephen Mead 1 These berries seem candles within, their blue juice lucent, distilled right on the vine. Malleable hands shape supple bunches, the sun’s aristocracy. How pure is the fingered fruit, clear globes in palms! Could what they capsule be medicine? Multi-tongued? From country to country, healing is an…
Sea Story
by Nancy Gerber It was a perfect day for the beach, the sky a cloudless powder blue, sand like blanched almonds, sea the color of smooth, green silk. Rows of white lounge chairs stood side by side, shaded by large, turquoise umbrellas. In the distance a gull dipped toward the…
Incoming
by William Meffert Lines of sand blew across the helipad beside the evacuation hospital. Beyond the helipad was a wide beach and beyond that, in darkness, the South China Sea, lit with white caps and foaming surf. Alex was the surgeon on call. Only a few weeks remained for him…
Sundered
by Dawn Fryauff I have been told how to grieve by a dozen well-intentioned souls. I have watched friends Seethe with the anger that I seem unable to feel towards the man as innately part of me as my name; which no longer belongs to me. One he freely gave,…
Time Ticks On
by Shane David Morin Inspired by “Arcs of Command” by Caspian Time ticks on, unceasingly, as if abandoning me Within deep chasms of a disillusioned and cracked psyche Awaiting, unhesitatingly, for the next opportunity to chime Bringing back to mind that this life is no longer truly mine Metronomically my heart…
Milk and Honey
by Dawn Fryauff No life bears forth from this desert. No seed takes root in this place. Be fruitful and multiply is Not A promise, but instead A command. Unfulfilled; My failure punctuated Monthly by Deep contractions of longing Birthing sand and scorched seed From this withered waste of a…
Red Dress
by Manikya Veena You are completely crazy. In the past you have called yourself fat, stupid, lazy, and clumsy—all of which you are, to some extent or the other, but not crazy. Not until now. You are vacating the house, your home of four years. “I think it’s a good…