Month: March 2016

Damsels By Christina Robertson

Robert stood outside thinking, watching the trees. It was damn windy out there on the landing but it was the only place he could smoke since the whole co-op had lilified and gone smoke free. All men know smoking and thinking just go together. But he had to admit it gave him a reason to be out here where the trees bowed and swayed like servants before a king.

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BRICK HOUSES By Donald Fisher

BRICK HOUSES By Donald Fisher I love brick houses because you can see how they were built. You imagine guys in stained white overalls troweling laying each brick in place. Other houses I have no feeling for. Sure some people would could tell me how they were put up. And they’d be right. They should write their own poems about mixing cement laying foundation putting up drywall. Me? I’ll write what I know about brick...

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Millie’s Mane By Don Noel

She turned from the mirror, still brushing her hair: ten, eleven, twelve. Clothes put away, bed as tautly made as a soldier’s; big fat, faded Pooh-Bear, showing his advanced years, propped on the lone pillow; Mother’s seascape behind the bed the only splash of real color on pale peach wallpaper. Not to complain about the watercolor, but all her friends had puffy pillows, bedspreads and drapes in bold colors, and rock groups’ posters on their walls.

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Jennie in the Mirror By Don Morgan

“We are dancing in Paris. I see us in a small apartment near a busy intersection, we barely have enough money to live and I am spending it all on paints and canvases. I try teaching English but no one cares and then we hit on a plan to open an American Midwest Dancing school and make millions!” Jennie said with a shriek.

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Après-midi des enfants By Richard Carl Subber

Après-midi des enfants By Richard Carl Subber The pond’s blue water, ruffling in precocious breezes, coolly boiling with the thrashing and sparkly splashes of sprites masquerading as children, all enmeshed in the gentle net of watchful gazes, all flaunting their carefree energy, they tend to joy, they crave only more, heedless of their unknown futures…. Rejoice, young and old! The pond is now. Richard Carl Subber is a freelance editor, a writing coach and a historian. He lives with his family in Natick, MA, USA. He’s a former newspaper reporter/editor who now indulges his love of the right words. His poetry appears in The Australia Times Poetry Magazine, miller’s pond poetry magazine, Northern Stars, United Haiku and Tanka Society, Whispers, and...

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