By: Richard Luftig I tried to explain them to a Millennial once but it didn’t take. How they looked: squat, dressed in their sheer plastic. Mouths wide open in perpetual surprise. And always those B-sides: I’m a Hog for You Baby….
By: Richard Luftig He is intent In his life To make This journey His home. But every passing Day causes Pause Like pen Poised upon Blank page. There are No words left To explain Her absence. It is more Like ice…
By: April Mae M. Berza As I have said, it will depend on [the President]. It is his decision, I cannot preempt him. Anyway, why are you so scared of martial law? -PNP Chief Dela Rosa, Rappler PNP Chief Dela Rosa…
By: Connie Woodring Waltzing battle, all is calm— A higher calm, threatening storm and conflict perhaps present at the flick of a wrong note, out of tune peace. No more blood, only stains (what do they mean?) No more glaring, historical…
I thought that we should not to refrain from featuring a few motivational speakers and authors from the business world. I picked it up from the famous business website about Daymond John. As his webiste says: Daymond John has come…
By Cathy Beaudoin Like all the other nights we sleep by the river, my guide dog’s the one who ends up on the cardboard box, avoiding the roots and sticks that might poke her in the middle of the night….
By: Christine Jackson We got married in the spring and after too many bellyfuls of mac and cheese in the wet summer heat, you hankered for a change. You had eighty-two dollars in your jeans pocket. I kept a rumored job…
By: Christine Jackson Key West spins away from a mainland where it has never fit. My life no longer fits. My mind roams where trees with silver leaves rustle in dappled light, kestrels cry, and lemon air soothes the yearning in…
By: Christine Jackson Like you, last night’s rain had moved on leaving me stranded in a dawn mist. My terrier nudges me into the day’s walk. We pass a wrought iron fence still coated with rain, and a row of dripping…
By: Ian Fletcher He sits across from me his coffee on the table cell phone in his hand surfing, tapping messages to who knows whom my ephemeral companion on the express train. Portly, middle-aged he appears neither happy nor sad an…