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Experimental works, prompts, mostly raw and new writing. A place to hang them while they dry.
The Writing Vein
Go to my main website The Writing Vein.
I have a submissions calendar page. These are culled from P&W, Duotrope, CRWOPPS, emails and friends. Feel free to add the Google calendar in its entirety to your calendar or add specific events.
I have a submissions calendar page. These are culled from P&W, Duotrope, CRWOPPS, emails and friends. Feel free to add the Google calendar in its entirety to your calendar or add specific events.
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2010
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April
(32)
- napwrimo: april 30
- napowrimo: april 29
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- Razor's Edge for 4/16/10
- naprwrimo: april 16
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- Razor's Edge for 4/2/2010
- napowrimo: april 2
- napowrimo: april 1
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April
(32)
3 comments:
travel poem
by dot
you arrived the day i knew the smell of water
the day i'd reached out and felt
brushes of sky meet sea meet emotion
meet
me
alone and yet surrounded because
in nature we are never alone and you
floated in to where i sat and you
alone and me
alone and together
we became no longer strangers
melting into the sand and dreaming
as clouds crept over mountains and
the wind rocked us awake
i could feel the memory of your journey
in your hands
i saw the desires of your heart
in your eyes
i smelled the accumulation of waters
on your breath
and i knew
that a new journey was about to begin
right here where we sat
alone
together
two apart now one
Water Prayer
by Deb
an ancient sigh
the aaahhhhh
deep soul
beginnings and endings
words meanings lost
in the heart of your horizon
the awe
your ripple glass beauty
blue mist mystery
bow of head and knee
human legs turn serpent tail
to swim your boundless
heart horizon
(posted for Jenny, who did this on April 1st)
Strength is like glass
see-through and clear to everyone.
Like bricks – can be used for nefarious purposes
or
can build fireplaces and comfortable memories and warmth.
Dolphin’s muscles.
Hummingbird heart.
Or a Monarch butterfly wing.
Flimsy, fragile, but carries
generations of butterflies
from the top of the world
to the bottom of it.
Migrations that take
generations
just using
those tiny little wings.
By Jenny Forrester
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