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How about a nice short story? Maybe a little science fiction, a mystery ... ah, a ghost story! Or perhaps some poetry, something heartfelt. Then there are thoughtful essays on all kinds of subjects. Whether it's fiction, poetry or prose, you'll find something that's original and sure to please. So curl up next to the fireplace with that cup of tea and enjoy!
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MEMBERS! Are you writers? Do you long to get published? Well, post your own original stories, poetry and essays right here. Just click on Submit Story across the top of the page. And don't forget to let the authors know what you think! Click comments? at the end of each piece.
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Morty's Cabin: Virge's Readin' Parlour
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© By Daisy Santiago
My son came home from war the other day,
it seemed like forever;
as though this day would never come.
His body was whole,
but his mind still wandered of memories;
lost comrades who fought well;
and gave their all; who gave their last breath;
for country; for honor; for freedoms sake,
so that we could partake of another day.
Now we must remember
and keep the memory of those left behind,
still left to, fight; to stay alive.
We honor the memory of those who died
and gave their all, and pray for peace.
Maybe one day wars will cease.
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© By Brian K. Blackden
The bell clangs, out of our bunks we roll
Sliding down the bright brass pole
On the truck donning gear
Chanting our claim, no fear, no fear
To the call we rush in the night
Pull to the curb oh what a sight
Flames, embers, people's screams
One look now at many shattered dreams
Into the fire we rush to save life
Dragging our line, axe, and pike
Up the steep stairs and through the hot door
I step too quick and go through the floor
Into the room below all aglow
The fires intense my screams so immense
The heat is unyielding but then I can see
My body from above and what I am shielding
It is God's will I went through that door
And part of his plan I fell through that floor
For my purpose is seen through my own tears
I have given my life for one of two years
Don't be angry I have lived my life true
To the child I have saved I'm glad you will too
I was a fireman and proud to be one
I know your life's fate you'll be on truck one
I know this is true for God has shown me
One life for another as it will be
As I watch from above my tears turn to joy
I have given my life for my own little boy
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© By Cannon
As the day begins to turn to evening,
and the sun is going down.
And night is near,
I know it will be coming here.
I lay down in my bed fighting the thoughts that's in my head. Trying to think of younger years.
Snails and puppy dogs tails.
Listening for the pitter-patter of little feet.
But all I can hear is my own heart beat.
I open my eyes in the black of the night,
shaking with fright.
I fell wetness on my face, tears I've
held back through the day.
I am cold I am hot, I am wet from my sweat.
I'm searching from room to room, calling
your name. Where are you my baby, my son,
where's the man I have raised you to become.
My mind is fighting but its no use, this
is surely mental abuse.
It has no body, no face, no soul only a
name, but it is real all the same...
FEAR!!!!!!!
Dear God I plead take this fear from me.
Where are you my baby, my child, where's
the man you have become.
I hear a small voice it's not to clear,
I hear a man's voice that is becoming
clear.
Mom as long as I am in your heart and in
your thoughts I am near.
Please don't fight with fear,
For I am your baby, your son, the
soldiers I have become.
Dry up your tears, do not fear for
I am in Iraq but I will be back.
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Bunny, the mother
of a Army Staff Sgt. 173 Airborne Brigade
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YOU KNOW YOU'RE GETTING OLDER WHEN...
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© By Rita Henry
Does your body have arthritis? Is your hair turning gray? Do the wrinkles on your aging face feel like they've come to stay?
When your husband turns the heat up and you are still cold, remember these are just some signs that say, You're getting old.
Your grandchildren are getting older and their birthdays you forget, and you wish that you could subtract twenty years from a body that just wants to sit.
Does your body do one sit-up that stays with you all day? Half in the morning when you get up and the other half when you're in bed to stay.
The clothes you had when younger you can suddenly no longer wear. You try to put them on anyway, but all they do is tear.
You walk to the bathroom to brush your teeth and find that they're not there. Your chest is going up and down and you have to try hard just to get some air.
You try to stick to a diet and your food intake goes down. But, when you get on the scale, it shows you've gained two pounds.
You decide to do some jogging, oh, say twice around the block. You set the alarm to time yourself and you get beat by the clock.
When you mention 'Elvis' to someone and they say to you, Who's he? You tell them a famous singer and they say, Was he on your family tree?
You decide to look for your glasses, so you can read in bed. You look all over the house for them and find they're on top of your head.
When your best friend has a birthday, no matter what time of the year. Do you remember to send them a card, or a late one that says, I missed it. Oh, dear.
Don't feel bad about growing older. We all have to do it someday. Even though old age is starting to catch up to you, don't let insulting birthday greetings get in your way.
The end.
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© By Mozelle Osborne
Thanksgiving is a time, when people all
meet
Talk a little turkey, cook and eat.
Lucky for some it really doe's happen
While some only wish they were there for
the lappin'
To watch all the kids as they rip and roar
in and out of the house , slamming the door
Is a sight to behold that will soon be,
just an image
Of when they were little and have left us
inlineage.
Thanksgiving is a time, to remember the
past
A period of time when we might have, had to
fast.
So while things are good and going real
well,
Remember the one's that are not here to
tell.
Dedicated to my son Ray Mayo, who passed away in 2000 at the age of 41
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Posted by archaios on Wednesday, November 19 @ 15:22:49 CST (263 reads)
(Read More... | Score: 3.66)
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© By Mitchell Zaiman
America, America
Through the years they call
Looking for those to take the stand
and some to take the fall
Here we are, Here we are
We will fight for thee
And to soldier turns the common man
to fight for liberty
And here at home, In towers High
The world would watch
as thousands died
This attack meant to cripple us
would only make us stronger
And we would stand and we would show them,
We wouldn't stand it any longer
So across the ocean, And across the sea
To fall upon the sand
Of a white stone desert red with blood
Within a foreign land
Through the years, We've fought our Wars
And the battles of our friends
In the solemn and the sacred cause
that freedom has no end
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by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God's throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness,
In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death--
Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:
If it could weep, it could arise and go.
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by...Matthew Arnold
The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits;--on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanch'd land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the {AE}gean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To he before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
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As I awaken from a dream,
I was able to see a window of time.
As I looked through the veil,
I could see the world spinning
with all the children clinging
to her body.
The window of time opened,
and I could see a sign
that read…stop…look…listen…
for the world has become, endangered,
by the madness of wars,
leaders are playing with.
Time…showed what was happening
to the world, because of weapons
not only killing the children,
but destroying the earth also.
I could see babies crying,
children wandering in the streets,
the elderly crumpled within themselves,
As the soldiers marched,
to the destruction of world isolation.
The bombs did more than
shatter earth’s skin,
it also blistered,
the inner organs,
with cracks and crevices.
The earth became silent,
in the annals of time…
As it became distraught
with pain and alienation.
It could see the skeletons of humans
as their blood ran like rivers
across the land of despair.
The children who survived the chaos
ran to and fro, searching,
for family that is no more.
The survivors, wander in shock
while leaders flee to their caves
where the mountains await them.
The pillars of the earth,
have been shackled.
Silence…looms on the horizon,
as freedom…for all children
has died…in the wars, engaged,
not by soldiers, but by the
industry who counts their profits
by the weapons they created.
and the window, closed…
archaios
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By Simon Leblovic,
"You hang in there," the voice on the phone said. But that failed to offer much comfort.
He felt like he was living in his own private hell. What had happened to him this time? Over a year ago he had gone ballistic and left his job. Then he had gone back to visit someone he thought he knew and there had been a terrible nght, which had ended in a hurried return trip. Following his return he began taking medication in an attempt to quell his manic rage, while he still continued to fume over past events. But could he really be sure of what had happened? Perhaps most of it had taken place in his deluded mind.
The rage over past events slowly dissipated with time. The months dragged on and he was lelt in a
lethargic state of depression. There was nothing to do and so he crawled through the days with little energy or purpose. He felt like hanging himself by his old guitar strings just to end the misery. Ah, what cheery thoughts. Perhaps he could find distraction in dwelling once again on past memories, no matter how mundane or far off in time they might be? The lonely days passed and nothing changed. He envisioned a bleak future where his few relationships slowly but surely came to an end. Everyone seemed to have moved on with their lives, while he could only wallow in clouded memories with nothing to do and nowhere to go.
While he was hanging around time passed like a slowly moving river. He knew the best course was to move on and leave mistakes and bad memories behind. Time heals wounds, but how much time did he have and how many more mistakes could he afford to make? He felt that the world and the people in it were all too much. He was weak and the world was too hard for him. And so once again he slipped into dark despair. He wished he could melt into a pool of liquid and evaporate in the sun. He wished he could turn to dust and blow away in the wind. He wished he could sleep and disappear forever in a dream. He wished he could disintegrate and become one with all things. Anything else but to try and live in a world of deception and confusion.
ln our last days we must gradually let go of the past, as the shells of our bodies break down and deteriorate. Little remains but the fading memories and dreams of what we were at various times in our lives. He felt he didn't belong here or anywhere. Thoughts came and went, when all he wanted to be was dead in the head. Faces and memories from the past invaded his sleeping dreams. But he just wanted to forget it aII. What to do now? Who knows what the future might hold. He was hanging by a thread and ready to let go.
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Posted by Marty on Wednesday, September 17 @ 15:26:22 CDT (447 reads)
(Read More... | Score: 5)
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