By: Kimberly Potter Kendrick By the age of one and a half, Little One obviously unusual, maybe a bit odd, but gave the sweetest kisses, but only after he stopped licking A quirky baby was he, spending warm mornings soaking…

By: Kimberly Potter Kendrick Standing in the doorway with tears streaming down her face, lashing out pain, frustration, helplessness Choking back tears listening to her daughter’s words, observing how beautiful she is, long hair shimmering in the sunlight The sparkle…

By: Beaubo Creases in my heart. Flaws of my soul. And you, my estranged, what do you desire through the condemnation, disorientation, magnification, distortion, and manipulation? Solace, my purported, Beloved?

By: Kimberly Potter Kendrick Will you still love me when the sky changes from sunshine to rain Will you still love me the same When my eyes of blue close forever Will you love me Will you despise I was…

Looking at the increasing inclination towards the use of voice commands and personal digital assistants, Google today announced the launch of audiobooks on the Google Play store in India. Users can now experience their favorite literature read out to them…

By Suneet Paul It was Sonali’s fortieth birthday today. Her angular face still had that seductive charm of the yester-years, although the hair had started showing signs of grey at the temples and the back of the head. Faint wrinkles…

Public speaking is not easy but an art that takes a lot from you before you master it. It not only requires a lot of hardwork but courage to put your ideas across in front of an audience. Never assume…

By: Richard Luftig I was about six when Grandpa stopped by on his way home from work. He smiled at me, said: You’ll never guess what I have under my hat. He doffed his fedora and I saw his hair, brown,…

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…