Like the rain,
A poem falls
When conditions are propitious.
Words patter down
Sometimes the flowing
Quenches your thirst
Or washes you clean.
Sometimes the flooding
Strips you bare
To your foundation.
When a poem falls
Into your heart,
It is best to listen.
Casey Laine comes from a long line of talkative women. She works as Fantasy Editor at Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores and publishes an annual anthology of fiction and poetry for her writing group, Writers Assembled. In her spare time, she chases butterflies with her camera. Find her on Facebook.
I walked along the winding trail,
the dog running before me,
my wife next to me,
with cliffs to one side,
and a river to the other.
Tall grasses, as tall as me,
and evergreen trees, everywhere.
The wind blew gentle,
as grey clouds drifted by,
and I pondered existence.
This poem was selected as the winner of the Commaful.com 50WS Contest! Read the original post here.
This relationship feels hopeless,
To abandon now? Impossible.
Too much time invested.
But oh, those lows.
“Walk away!” an inner voice screams.
But I can’t. I’m in too deep.
So with a cleansing breath and renewed resolve,
I pull out the half-finished manuscript.
Judi MacKenzie is a writer whose unfinished works are actually starting to growl from inside the filing cabinet.
He hadn’t planned it,
at least not consciously.
They were twins, after all,
each incomplete without the other.
He could not be a failure
without his brother’s disproportionate success.
It was a wild night of shared mayhem,
to the perfect finale:
matching death dates.
Twins to the end.
Jackie reads 50-Word Stories and writes religiously. She has never submitted her work, save to this site.
By the Angsana tree I sit, waiting for her arrival, but reading becomes dreaming once the Angsana’s crown starts weaving a lullaby with the breeze.
In dreams, gliding, she surpasses my wake and I, receding, cannot reach her pace.
I awaken to remember that here too she has passed me.
Benjamin Lo is an English undergraduate student from Nanyang Technological University trying to understand life. In his spare time, he is trying to complete a short story collection.
Despair of evening gives way to terrors of the night, to sleep, disrupted, dreaming of elegance, of past and future nightmares. To wake to morning and rise, to work, to read, to listen for wisdom, to love again and hope for another evening, another night, another dream of another day.
Originally from New York, Janet Clare lives in Los Angeles with her husband. She’s had short fiction and essays published in literary journals online and anthologized. She studied at UC Berkeley and UCLA. Her first novel, Time Is the Longest Distance, was published December 2018 by a small press out of Australia, where the story is set. She is at work on her second novel, A Different Happiness.
The old man’s smell in her palm
Memory spread the pang of last lovemaking
Dark rain pecked the windows; dark sun shone; the coffee mug held her hands
New Yorkers’ podcast still on; it kept rewinding
Yet she couldn’t stay in this repetition of life
When they were both evaporating.
Azarin Sadegh, a 2011 PEN America Emerging Voices fellow, a LARB contributor, and a former student of the late Les Plesko, is working on a new novel.
Virginia Woolf heard voices. They told her ruthless things.
I wake from a dream where I was drowning, my clothes bright flames, billowing around me. I wake and I walk to the stream where the water over the stones sounds, for all the current world, like the wings of angels.
COrey Mesler has been published in numerous anthologies and journals including Poetry, Gargoyle, Five Points, Good Poems American Places, and New Stories from the South. He has published over 20 books of fiction and poetry. With his wife he runs Burke’s Book Store (1875) in Memphis.
Leaves dance with the fall breeze
The sun steals the early frost
The moon waits in the wings
I shiver in respect of nature
I shiver in respect of my age
Eighty years young
I am beyond the age of expectation
for women according to the insurance
companies age calculations
Charlotte McElroy is an 80-year-old retired teacher. She is finally following her dream: writing! Thank you for giving her this opportunity.
Winds whisper the sounds and sights of fall; fading flowers and falling leaves.
Dancing shadows slip away at dusk to appear again in the chilly dawn.
Golden wheat fields fall to the force of gobbling combines.
The Meadow Lark’s song signals change.
The harvest moon fills the night with mystery.
Charlotte McElroy is an 80-year-old retired teacher. She is finally following her dream: writing!