Posts Tagged Penmen Review

The Method

by Robert Steward Lisbon, Portugal 2003 “Um bilhete de volta para Cacém, se faz favor,” I said to the man in the railway station ticket office. “Cacém?” he asked, tapping away on his computer. He had a Benfica football badge on the lapel of his blue jacket. “Sim,” I replied. Next…

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A Gunshot

by Khristy L. Knudtson I focused and realized your face has not looked this beautiful      since I was a child and since I was your “Muffin.”I focused and realized your face has not looked this beautiful      since it was illuminated in the middle of these crosshairs.The smooth, crescent moon of the trigger      carressed…

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Names of Mountains

by Frank Possemato Kilimanjarotowers over languageoutweighsforcing a nameto rise upto its own weight In New Hampshirethe Presidential RangeMount Washington of record-breaking windis our biggest(smaller onesnamed for smaller presidents)and before that is was namedfor the spirit in the stormand before thatit just was(a new name for each visitorAnd none on record)…

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Father

By: Kristal Peace More and more Often now, The oak tree in the center of Our yard inexplicably Begins to weep. Every day, for two weeks, Its branches sag, and its leaves cascade To the ground, like the stream Of a waterfall, drenching the entire lawn. But It is Summer,…

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Crimson Snow

By: Adir E. Golan Maery MacTauthenach followed the fading footprints that stained the snow crimson. With each step the snow revealed a deeper, darker imprint. Bleeding. Maery padded faster. Whoever was injured had to be close, the dulled prints had changed from boots to narrow stretches of furrows. Crunching snow…

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Diary of a Sixty-One-Year-Old Married Man – Part 22

By: Jon Epstein “Baba!” my granddaughter Bailey hollers from the bedroom. “Can you go in?” I ask Kelly. I’d just sat in front of the fireplace with my first Saturday morning cup of coffee and an ice pack on my back. “She called for you,” Kelly defers. I pull up…

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Still AlMighty

By Casey L. Covel Heroes don’t get sick Icons don’t need pills Warriors don’t have cricks Saviors don’t get chills Iron on my tongue Needles in my skin Asphalt in my lungs Anguish in my grin Fading like a spark Every breath a bid Cringing in the dark Smiling at…

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The Story Keeper

by Lisa Harris Her early life was a fairy tale, and a journey into the land of Moses and the Israelites, and a daily closer walk with all things Jesus. It was a history lesson on the Methodists and John Wesley, a renegade Anglican with some good ideas. She heard story after…

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Woman in the Locked Ward

by John P. Kristofco Sometimes she remembers those who come;sometimes she does not,her dreams blur with world she really sees:            “I made doughnuts at the stove last night,            before the men crawled from the pantry with their guns.”She sits inside the complex of a hoarder’s life,storing things forever from the thief who…

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Photo of a woman

My Father’s Last Girlfriend

by M. Guendelsberger My brother Pete was the one to find it once that dry tape finally gave way and the photo drifted down to the black and white tile of my dead grandmother’s basement floor. We had been stacking the chairs on that table, flipping them upside down so…

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