Hi there. This blog is devoted to all manner of creative writing and is (ideally) updated several times each month.
I invite each of you to provide investigations and analyses; poetry and prose; reviews of film, literature, and music. Submit your own dramatic writing, introspective writing, unique and original writing. Submit your own thoughts regarding your politics and passions, hobbies and recommendations.
I invite your comments or criticism; your suggestions and feedback, at any time. Simply e-mail me or insert your desired copy as a comment, with a small note to say so. Please include your own ‘byline’ information, copyright information and/or author’s note so you can be credited for your own work.
More voices mean more variety. Let’s fill this Kitchen Sink with all the beauty and originality it can handle.
by Frédéric G. Martin
Posted here May 27, 2015
I’m looking out of the window
And I wonder where you are,
Is your soul close to mine,
Not so far from here?
Are not yet in bloom,
Are there such nice flowers
In the world you’re living in?
My heart too will cease to beat
Some time or another,
Only children may be orphans
And I am not a child anymore,
I’m looking out of the window,
I wonder if you hear my thoughts,
Is your soul far from me
Somewhere above the pensive stars?
I wish I could tell you
How nice some mornings are,
How much we like to laugh,
And also we’ve seen heather in winter,
I can almost hear you laughing
A thousand miles away,
I don’t need to look out of the window,
Since my beating heart is yours,
And you put a slight smile on my face,
The fragrance of lilacs is floating in the air,
You say springs last forever where you are,
And you put a slight smile on my face.
by Saneh Pandey
Posted here 5/27/2015
Meet me when world is about to end,
and we have little time to spend.
Find me when there is no light,
when we have no more reason to fight.
Hold me when I have no one but you,
where there is just us two.
Baby, I will adore you like never before,
I will pour all my love from core.
by Jacqueline Seewald
Posted May 25, 2015
Wide-eyed in wonder,
Ella beholds the world.
“How old are you?”
her grandfather asks.
She holds up five fingers.
Ella traces her grandfather’s mosaic of wrinkles,
touching his face with those same five fingers.
Seeing tears form in her dark, dark eyes,
he asks: “Why so sad?”
“Because you are shrinking.”
“But I am not sad,” Grandfather replies.
“Because you are growing.”
by Kathleen Wastlund
Posted on May 24, 2015
Today I thought I’d clean out the trunk,
And throw away some of that worn-out junk,
The little red overalls, worn at the knee,
The raggedy sweater, used by my three,
The faded old jacket that Kenny wore
The first time he went with his Dad to the store,
The myriad anklets, many unmatched,
And several wee shirts, patched and unpatched,
The dress that’s too small for Betty to wear,
The ribbon that never would stay in her hair,
Paul’s baby cap his old woolen bunting,
Small worn things for which I’d been hunting,
Oh, I sorted out lots of worn-out junk,
Then I tenderly packed it all back in the trunk.
A dragon poem
by Triolet Saphira
posted here May 21, 2015
First you must empty out all of your mind,
You must find the heart of the eye inside,
From which you will mold the clay in kind;
You’ll fire it for three days until it has dried.
Then paint the sharp spikes and slippery scales
But save for the very last those mighty eyes;
With a file of steel sharpen the nasty nails,
then with a pin and a drop of your blood, it’ll rise.
Name him then, and be sure to name him well,
For this dragon now is forever to be yours;
Sweep your hands wide to finish the spell—
Then paint the eyes that will face the wars.
But if it should happen that the dragon turn
Then the spell was flawed, and you shall burn.
A poem by C.E. Hibbard
May 17, 2015
Like a ghost
or a butterfly
she flitters past my eye
a memory of her presence
There but not there
here but not here
She is at once nowhere
In my mind
Like a quiet golden spruce
she is larger than life
Untainted by ugliness
or life’s ill wills
She is beauty personified
She is perfection of form
Yes like a ghost
or a butterfly
she flitters past my eye