A rumble of dry thunder in the west like the swallowing of day by a great throat. An easy hike became onerous as the weight of August slowed each heel-jolting downward stride; air almost too dense to breathe, the constant crawl of sweat beneath damp clothing Anne Heard Flythe
It’s not impolite when babies burp ‘Cause that’s the way they eat. They drink and burp and slurp soft food. If I did that, they’d call me rude! Julie Phend
Where hula girls wriggle, waheenees giggle and palm trees bend in the breeze, where the northeast trades bring keen escapades and surf booms in from the seas. Rod Vanderhoof
Doomsday occurred in this year past Ending my world as I knew it. The comfort of Daddy is gone 12.21.12 Only his sense of humor Would have chosen the Mayan doomsday he told us Not to believe in. 69 years is not enough time For the world to enjoy Such a vibrant and loving life. Michelle O’Hearn
I wonder if people eat up here. I just realized that I have not seen anyone else here, other than Peter. I am curious as to what he has in my file. Will it be a list of all the sins I’ve committed on earth? Will I see any of my loved ones, who hopefully arrived here earlier? Thomas J. Higgins
Eyes deep purple in light Streaked with lavender plum, fringed with blue-black lashes. Lips like a small open blossom Barely a smile settled on her face. Freckles sprinkled softly Across her cheeks and nose. Norma E. Redfern
The day they won, they drank till dawn, with vows to share it all. Dwayne said, “We’ll buy an eatin’ place, “don’t matter if it’s small.” Their diner had just seven stools, two booths that seated four, but people who had eaten there kept coming back for more. Joe Metz
How do mermaids mate? Mate with men, I mean. The short answer is— sorry to disappoint you—they don’t. They’re merMAIDS, for mercy sake, not mermadams or mermothers. Larry Turner
I was eleven when I acquired my first horse. His name was Chuckles and he lived quite happily for a number of years inside my head along with an assortment of other animals. These included three English Mastiffs, several goats, a duck named Cactus Jack, and a couple of cows. Cheap to keep, they required no feeding, no grande mansion and no offshore bank account. Jennifer Anne Gregory
Mama ate red Georgia clay. Driving from Savannah to take school clothes to my cousins in Jacksonville, Georgia, Mama stopped the car along the roadside to visit a clay hole. Using a stick stripped of its bark, Mama dug deep into the earth to retrieve a chunk of moist clay. Always, she shared the morsel with me and my two younger brothers. But, along the road to worldliness, Mama learned of parasites. When Mama stopped eating clay, she ate dry, chunky, chalky Argo starch. Maxine Clark
One 6 foot, 7 inch small-town young man, entered a family. A wedding in the spring, made it official. He fell in with the extended family, with the care and tended the livestock. Looked in on widowed aunts Which endeared him to them. Dealt with difficult people and situations, with patience and an enduring presence of mind. A natural arbitrator when conflicts arose, and never complained of his role as the in-law. Andrea Williams Reed
The rabbit moved to a small corner table and flipped the lamp switch. “Dear God!” the reporter whispered. The rabbit was not the pristine white Easter Bunny one would expect. This rabbit was disheveled with dirty dishwater fur. One ear hung listlessly down the side of her face and the other flopped backwards. A cigarette dangled from the side of her red costumed lips. C.A. Rowland
The midnight curtain falls again On our mountain-bottom grounds Deep hollows find a bushy tail Fleeing from the hounds Corn whiskey warms our gullets Kinfolk from my clan Reflecting from the lightwood fire A fox horn in my hand Kelly Patterson
A seed sunk its fingers Grabbing for a hold Into the stern face Of the fiery red rock Defied gravity It challenged the wind. J. R. Robert-Saavedra
Betsy Ross looked up from her work. Her face reddened as she hastily put down her knitting. “Oh, General Washington! I apologize, I forgot that you meant to call on me today.” Greg Miller
Do you understand why I dance? Way back when my ancestors Heard music, they pranced Rocked, jumped, shuffled To the sounds of the drums Moving, swaying, twirling in a frenzy Entering a trance Do you understand why I dance? Way back when my ancestors Heard music, they pranced Ummie
Why would anyone want to be a cop, particularly when one stops to realize the dangers involved? What causes someone to rush toward gunfire, while others flee from it? Who wants to subject themselves to ridicule, taunts, name-calling and oversight by local, state and federal entities? If you answered, “me,” you are probably a cop. John M. Wills
And he was back in the mire of the rice fields south of Danang. The fields there were enriched with human manure. Three murderous days held down in that damn field. God, it stank. He would never forget that stink. J. Allen Hill
But now he is a hero to all the ones he left and now her heart feels sadness but he did his very best. Day after day, year after year her hope is growing dim looking at every uniform— for the man he might have been. Juanita Dyer Roush
For within vast evolutions of times and seas and dust and the turbulent stirring pot of countless interactions, obscured by mass, hard-wired quests of basic lust, thrive melding duets of magnificently shared abstraction. In the mega-scheme, what meaningful love exists seems fragile stuff: Two is a tiny sum in such a world. But it is enough. Steven P. Pody
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