Browsing Category Poetry

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  Photo by Viktoria Andreeva

  Poetry

  My Hands are Asking you Breathlessly

  My hands are asking you breathlessly: Haven’t you longed to be a guitar? To wait for a musician in a desperate rhythm thirsty fingers over you to run? ...

  On January 6, 2017 / By Julieta Kaludova
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  Original Fiction and Poetry

  To Judas

  I am here. Unashamed of my crystalline skin - so thin at times that one can hear the howl of blood through my veins. ...

  On December 8, 2016 / By Julieta Kaludova
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  Photo by Lubomir Sergeev

  Original Fiction and Poetry

  Instructions Upon Opening

  This Life is not a Gift It cannot be returned, exchanged or repackaged It can be refound, restored and renewed ...

  On November 18, 2016 / By Adam Sacks
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  Poetry

  The Lonely Man

  He bears a scar upon his forehead and always sits at ends, He might be tall, but even so the lonely man is small. ...

  On November 1, 2016 / By Julieta Kaludova
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  Photo by Viktoria Andreeva

  Original Fiction and Poetry

  Timon Sinos

  Timon Sinos Rises the ordinary into infraviolet intermissive bereft of brief nothing to stamp so I stomp this out please do not accept under conditions or on any behalf ...

  On October 17, 2016 / By Adam Sacks
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  Poetry

  My Nag

  We lived so well, my nag, and yet this life of ours Is granted for an instant, just enough to shout. So now we have to part, for in ...

  On October 15, 2016 / By Julieta Kaludova
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  Poetry

  Arachne of 21st Century

  Woven. Yet keep on knitting. Clumsily and recklessly I twist the needles, besmirch the patterns, tighten the ends, and like a true maiden form the Balkans interweave my own shadow ...

  On September 21, 2016 / By Julieta Kaludova
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  Poetry

  The Late Train

  Perhaps he greeted all the trains, That shall return me to his town. ...

  On September 21, 2016 / By Julieta Kaludova
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  Photo by Viktoria Andreeva

  Original Fiction and Poetry

  Silence

  Silence. Let it wash over me — soothing, calming. In the distant background there is only self. Silence. It creeps, rooting its way into my spine, arching it backwards and stretching ...

  On September 4, 2016 / By B.G. Reynolds
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  Poetry

  My Mom’s Wedding

  Down the hill he went, then he took a turn, into the verdant fields my father descended. Twenty years now I wait for his return and for twenty years mom ...

  On April 20, 2016 / By Julieta Kaludova