By James Aitchison In London, just five miles east of Buckingham Palace, a mysterious underground language has evolved. An English language wherein words such as “frog”, “soldiers”, “Aristotle”, “whistle” and “butchers” do not mean what they are supposed to mean!…
By David William Jurgenson Popock opened his door and found a short Egyptian girl staring at him expectantly. She had large, watery green eyes, sleek diamond lips, with a luscious mane of black hair flowing down to her hips. Popock…
By: Simon Heathcote Catholic Cuts in the Schism Thick black hair sashaying in clumpslike gold leaf bestowed on Toni’sSmall Heath shop — I was the grandsonof the local vicar who smiled and waveddown the High Street like reruns of a papal visit — and…
By: John Ziegler Mulberries I remember orchids through the windowof a solarium’s silver glass, on Ruben Patterson’s property, his estate, with its mammoth mansion, with its broad veranda and 4 car garage, his cream – and – gold Stutz Bearcat….
By: Jim Bates Deep forest strollingSunny skies blue asters bloomSuch serenity. Rocky granite gorgeCascading river echoesWildly roaring bliss. Solitary singerSongs sung with heartfelt passionVoice transcending. Walking pine tree woodsSkirting nefarious rootsHappily hiking. Stoney beach agatesPebbles swirling reddish huesWonder of eons….
By: Richard LeDue “September Again” Trees painting pictures with their leaves,leaving us to ponder where they hidetheir paint brushes, or why we turnthose colours into bright remindersof approaching winter and another summerlost, but some are lucky and just stare,blinded by…
By Taylor Dibbert He’s atHighland BooksWith his momAnd he comes acrossAn enlarged print bookAnd he lovesSeeing these wordsOn the pageEverything lookingSo accessibleSo easy to read. ### Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. “Rescue Dog,” his…
By John RC Potter “Help! I’m Dead!” Those chilling words rose into the clear blue-sky skies and bounced off the rosy-hued heavens on a farm in southwestern Ontario one early summer’s morning in the mid-60s. At the shrill lament,…
By: Sam Barbee Glimpse Eros I crave new ecstasies,pursue passion beyond the smooch.Let obsession bypass innuendo –bones quivering beneath skin.Sweat rather than sonnets. Dismiss passive liaisons leavingwrinkles, in a palace trimmed with pillows.A realm to be content with candles and…
By James Aitchison Dictionaries tell us that Utopia means a place of ideal perfection. They also offer a secondary meaning: an impractical scheme for social improvement. Crushing poverty, social inequality and defeat in war drove thousands to start new lives…