Rose of Prose
every muscle aches as fatigue festers, trapped
in forgotten corners of my brain. life is a master
distractor, and the chaotic novelty of the
present prevents me from fully appreciating… 119 more words
21 hours, 35 minutes ago
How can I fill this vacuum?
Which drowns me every awakening,
that oppresses my dreams…
that afflicts my longings…
like the late ship… 36 more words
5 days, 16 hours ago
How the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry—and my chronic pain diagnosis—helped me trade in false hopes for a truer picture of God.
April 12, 2019 by JONATHAN MERRITT… 2,781 more words
6 days, 7 hours ago
Melanie Has a Blog
On Promise Street the houses huddle together
Corpses of flies starved in an abandoned web.
Ramshackle buildings lean up
Against cardboard-windowed shops
Eaten alive by fat-pocketed landlords… 265 more words
2 weeks, 2 days ago
Reflect Out Loud
I was so excited at first.
Thought I found it. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Turns out it was a rusty can of disappointment. 366 more words
Donna Pucciani, Poet
. . . But for now,
the cold is my epiphany,
and darkness my star.
–Excerpt from “After the Solstice” in EDGES by Donna Pucciani. First published in Flint Hills Review.
3 weeks, 1 day ago
Website Version Here
By Christos Floratos
In grainy corridors calling distant lights
Where shadows erect pillars of blight,
The wooden walls beg down upon me, 276 more words
3 weeks, 3 days ago