Tag: creative writing
member name: Lynn Doiron
|
September 03, 2007 12:41 PM EDT --
Still night, the stars begin to turn, waver
as if in friendly departure from dawn's approach.
Our vision outdistances Time - I see signs
of radiance perhaps gone. And yet, we scatter . . .
more
|
|
August 31, 2007 03:33 PM EDT --
On Monday the air at my open window came in uninvited
and at such a pace: not a run, not a skip, but with the sweep
of a ballroom diva gliding a fast fox-trot. I had no choice
but to name . . .
more
|
|
January 07, 2008 03:55 PM EST --
The Diggers sway, lean out needled fingers
in easy forty-fives, wrench back, gray turnings
of sap greens: rain's way of backspacing
tints and tones, pixel by pixel, erased. . . .
more
|
|
August 30, 2007 12:52 PM EDT --
She lives in a room dedicated to thimbles and books,
keen upon cases of floss ordered from eBay
and the sheen of marginal glosses on scripts.
She’s papered her walls
with paragraphs, . . .
more
|
|
January 16, 2008 01:58 PM EST --
If this new Group (Folktales, Tales, and Flash Epics) interests you, and if a Challenge (of sorts) might spur you to post a fresh Tale or Fable for all to enjoy . . . Then consider Don't . . .
more
|
|
August 31, 2007 10:13 AM EDT --
Ironed open and flat, their edges left raw
to fray, they become as spouses, who,
having said I do’s and linked arms, the thread
of one life, half a stitch, the thread of the other
. . .
more
|
|
January 06, 2008 08:27 PM EST --
Sad pear cools his palm;
Wasps sated by nectar wells
Cruise pear cider drifts.
Buzz of drunken stingers' wings--
Eyes following in wound eights. . . .
more
|
|
August 30, 2007 01:09 PM EDT --
If only I hadn't been looking for sea glass that Thursday on that beach, I wouldn't have spotted what looked like a discolored tongue. The beach was Pete's Beach and for a Thursday . . .
more
|
|
January 28, 2008 01:22 PM EST --
After the services, dead but not dead, I sat in our only armchair with my hands holding either arm. The upholstery was green tweed. Or big blue flowers on beige. Or brick-red . . .
more
|
|
January 24, 2008 08:56 PM EST --
[word count 494]
When Interstate 5 replaced Highway 99, business life faded along a two-mile stretch running into and out of Snidely, California. Andre's House . . .
more
|
|
August 30, 2007 11:53 AM EDT --
Such a pen! Such a cage! Telephone poles
for corner supports of meshed ceiling,
walls no duck can escape
except by specific plan
by man
for men.
Or women
who pull triggers
down birds . . .
more
|
|
December 01, 2007 12:34 PM EST --
For three days I deconstructed
sweaters, saved bone buttons off cardigans
and rolled used yarn into balls, wondering
where the arms went (once they were gone)
and each . . .
more
|
|
August 29, 2007 04:33 PM EDT --
This is not about cups in summer-cottage china closets
placed to wait their fills below the Hummels,
above the blue nun sunk in meditation, Llardo fired.
This is not about cups rolling . . .
more
|
|
January 15, 2008 11:29 PM EST --
Remember? Remember when Butch and Sundance kept looking back over their shoulders and no matter how hard they tried they couldn't shake the group tailing them? Who Are Those Guys, . . .
more
|
|
August 28, 2007 03:49 PM EDT --
[About Me -- two word challenge week of 8/27/07]
What about the grass?
Who will water
When I’m gone?
What about the flowers?
Who will weed
Dandelions from the red
Verbenia . . .
more
|
|
January 03, 2008 08:24 PM EST --
Curl it round me,
she tells the sky,
and asks, too, for a horn button,
a hole to run the button through
in this woven shrug phenomena
of air swirling her.
As fledgling . . .
more
|
|
|
|
