By: Alan Berger What if at the end it all becomes peaceful and sunny? To believe that it will wont cost you more, or less love or money The last thought you got won’t be regret for the book you…
By : Amirah Al Wassif I asked them How the sun says hello to everyone ? Then, they laughed bitterly Without being sorry And told me “ask the gun” Her red spark Sharp like a dark Permits entering the light…
By: Denise Woods 1. At ten years old, I just got used to the world I lived in. I’m not ready to see everything change before my eyes. I was born in the midst of the Civic Arena’s popularity. After…
By: Linda M Crate the immortal strand of hope they seek me, but they shall not find; i have heard the hooves of the horses and i know they mean me no good—always i have been an outsider, a misfit…
By: Josh Jennings “Come, examine this life from afar,” Lady Liberty cries. “Bear witness to our American dream.” A blushing bride to be sitting on the porch. Hearty greetings from neighbors bellowing across a newly surfaced road. A room full…
Shared with Literary Yard By: Sahaj Sabharwal. Jagdish Di Hatti and Chowk Chabutra Money can buy Food but not Nutrition. Money can buy Gifts but not Thanks. Money can buy Blanket but not Warmth. Money can buy Books but not Knowledge. Money…
By: Alexander Kemp Life is good. Life is beautiful. This is my thought as I take a final look over my notes. My students, adults with disabilities, file into the classroom. Phone buzzes. Taking out my phone, I see notifications…
By: Alan Swyer “I’ve been thinking about the wedding,” Clementine said over a dinner of coconut soup, string beans, and duck larb on a chilly February evening at their favorite Thai restaurant in Brooklyn. “Which means?” asked Geller. “I’d really…
Writing a story sounds easy. But it is a skill which can be acquired without paying a price. The price is constant practice and patience. One has to toil and slog like an ass. Here are a few tips that…
By Chinese Poet Hongri Yuan Translated by Yuanbing Zhang The Sea of The Golden Palace Happiness is the memory of heaven And the soul is as sweet as the sun. On the canvas of the death you daub a…