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Santa brought me a baby doll for Christmas one year that had white curly hair like an old lady. She had a rubber head and blue eyes that would open and close when she sat up and lay down. Her arms and legs were rubber too, attached to a stuffed body. She was about half
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Since I started teaching I’ve undergone many changes. I still have a real honest to God chalk board in my classroom instead of the standard white board these days. The way I copy papers has changed significantly over the years. I started with the purple stuff. I would get so frustrated trying to type tests
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“I feel like my head’s in a jar underwater,” said Junebug to no one at all as she burnt the last of the fried chicken. She couldn’t fry chicken any better than she could make biscuits. Her gravy and mashed potatoes were to die for though. The whole stick of butter and heavy cream she
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The whittling down of a grandiloquent tale to seventeen syllables. Getting the juice from it to its purist form wrings the neck of a piece of writing so tight that all that’s left is the essence of its meaning, a haiku. Five seven five. The dear sweet poems of eternity. Pictures in pure form Whittled
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Image generated with AI. I’ve never been to a fishing village in Scotland. I don’t care about cities and tourism. The small town misty cold draws me. I want to walk out on a rocky shore to hear the waves crash and redden my cheeks with cold as long as I can stand the grey
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Thank you, Nolcha Fox and Chewers and Masticadores! Beatrice Entombed Millard watched the undertakers close the drawer that held Beatrice’s casket, and waited until everyone left the cemetery. A dusty brown cloud followed a parade of black limousines crawling their way up the side of a mountain to the main road. The last thing he
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It’s time to get more aggressive about the life that I want. I’ve already decided what life I don’t want. I decided years ago that I wanted out of teaching. Retirement is within my reach. I called the retirement board and found that I was eligible for retirement six years ago, but it was financially
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Image generated with AI. Junebug looked at the stack of dusty handwritten journals in the corner. Like hell she wanted them. That’s all she needed, a stack of hundred year old books piled up beside the toolbox in the laundry room. Maybe they’d be better next to the washer, between the shelf where the charger
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Above the trees wings spreadBlack and cawingOn the breeze What’s left of theLeavesAs they race to flyHigherIn swirls and in whirlsBend to the groundAnd I dipThen upBefore I touch and soarAnd dive down againAlmost to the groundFallingWings spreadBlack and cawingOn the breezeBefore fall Becomes Winter again.
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This Thanksgiving Dinner
I don’t care for turkey, besides, it’s heavy and hard to handle. This year, because I’m not paying two hundred dollars for beef, I’m making pork tenderloin Wellington and smoked turkey leg Wellington experiments. If they go well, I’ll do them again for Christmas. I have one boy home for Thanksgiving, so he’ll be my Read more
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Eutony
Eutony: n. The pleasantness of a word’s sound.Your words arethe sound of kindness.The quiet of falling leavesflutter and whirl,Orange and red ride the wind and glide to the ground.They have the shove of love behind each one.bright yellow wingedyet crimson when passed under the shade of the othereach one part of your poem.The sound you Read more
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When Life Gets Weird
I defer to Shakespeare again.All women in their time play all the parts.When time’s struggle hacks away at the core of motherhood, she bloomsSlices of her incognito souls fall around her.She’s protected her child with her promises Surefooted he stands on her love and covers his head, With the hat of awareness.The recognition thatHer powerful Read more
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Cindora
“What was wrong with the last gentleman caller? He was taller than you and wore a suit of the finest cut. He didn;t even grease his hair like you said you hated.” Cindora’s father, Mr. Weston poured another bourbon in disgust and slumped in his chair. His daughter made him want to pull hanks of Read more
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The Haunted School
One morning my classroom was unlocked and its door was open, the doorstop jammed tight to hold it open. Everyone else’s in the Penthouse, that’s what we called the third floor of West Side Middle School, was propped open too. It was weird because I always arrived an hour earlier than everyone else and their Read more
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Crop Circles
The aliens are here. How do you know? I saw the crop circles. Don’t be stupid. There are no such thing as crop circles. Yes there are. It’s where their mothership lands and makes a funky pattern on the ground. See? No. Jeb went out last night with his tractor and did that so the Read more
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Santa brought me a baby doll for Christmas one year that had white curly hair like an old lady. She had a rubber head and blue eyes that would open and close when she sat up and lay down. Her arms and legs were rubber too, attached to a stuffed body. She was about half
-
Since I started teaching I’ve undergone many changes. I still have a real honest to God chalk board in my classroom instead of the standard white board these days. The way I copy papers has changed significantly over the years. I started with the purple stuff. I would get so frustrated trying to type tests
-
“I feel like my head’s in a jar underwater,” said Junebug to no one at all as she burnt the last of the fried chicken. She couldn’t fry chicken any better than she could make biscuits. Her gravy and mashed potatoes were to die for though. The whole stick of butter and heavy cream she
-
The whittling down of a grandiloquent tale to seventeen syllables. Getting the juice from it to its purist form wrings the neck of a piece of writing so tight that all that’s left is the essence of its meaning, a haiku. Five seven five. The dear sweet poems of eternity. Pictures in pure form Whittled
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Image generated with AI. I’ve never been to a fishing village in Scotland. I don’t care about cities and tourism. The small town misty cold draws me. I want to walk out on a rocky shore to hear the waves crash and redden my cheeks with cold as long as I can stand the grey
-
Thank you, Nolcha Fox and Chewers and Masticadores! Beatrice Entombed Millard watched the undertakers close the drawer that held Beatrice’s casket, and waited until everyone left the cemetery. A dusty brown cloud followed a parade of black limousines crawling their way up the side of a mountain to the main road. The last thing he
-
It’s time to get more aggressive about the life that I want. I’ve already decided what life I don’t want. I decided years ago that I wanted out of teaching. Retirement is within my reach. I called the retirement board and found that I was eligible for retirement six years ago, but it was financially
-
Image generated with AI. Junebug looked at the stack of dusty handwritten journals in the corner. Like hell she wanted them. That’s all she needed, a stack of hundred year old books piled up beside the toolbox in the laundry room. Maybe they’d be better next to the washer, between the shelf where the charger
-
Above the trees wings spreadBlack and cawingOn the breeze What’s left of theLeavesAs they race to flyHigherIn swirls and in whirlsBend to the groundAnd I dipThen upBefore I touch and soarAnd dive down againAlmost to the groundFallingWings spreadBlack and cawingOn the breezeBefore fall Becomes Winter again.
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Mona
Like most things, Mona ignored the timer, and kept reading her book. She was approaching the climax of a scene, she needed to see the outcome of the turning point, wanted to watch the table turn, she couldn’t put the pages down just yet. Nothing was on fire. She read on. Of course the protagonist…
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Luxuries of Life
Time, health, a calm mind, slow mornings, the ability to travel, a home I love, and close relationships, is there more to life that I could need? How much time is granted to me? How much time do I need? Is it enough? I think so. I believe it will be enough to show the…
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My Greatest Gift
Are you sure you’re right?You can’t be having twinsGreatest Christmas gift
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Boon to the living
Photo by Douglas John Imbrogno “I’ve survived one hundred percent of the days that were just God-awful. I am happy to be alive on good days. I do wonder about what’s next though. Next. What’s coming? I’ve got a lot coming on my plate. I have many choices to make, much to be careful of,…
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Dirty Snow
“Mom, where are the boots you got me for Christmas?” asked Charlie. He tore the living room upside down looking for them. Couch cushions went flying, followed by blankets, and newspapers, he made an unholy mess. “Stop it! Stop throwing stuff around and straighten this room up right now,” Alice was livid. “You know better…
Devonne Brown 