We speak in code. Fake smiles
accentuate our encryption
as we avoid truthful confessions.
Lips spread wide
over camouflaged terms
as tongues stutter and tangle
The look in your eyes forces me into
We calculate our positions and
plot our next move.
We speak in code.
Arlene is a novice writer who enjoys writing flash fiction and poetry.
She was living in darkness; he introduced her to sunshine. But in the light she could see the darker side he was trying to hide.
She didn’t know whether the future would be different or a replica of the past; she was trapped amidst the present, which was fading fast.
Preeti Singh is an Indian French Interpreter and Media Professional who is engaged in writing scripts. In her free time she loves to play sundry characters for television series.
A horse or a bike
I’m sure what I’ll ride
No sugar no hay
Only oil for its chain
On the mounts on the hills
Only me and its wheels
Its name just four letters
But it makes me feel better
Ask me what I like
My answer’s… my bike
Virginio is an Italian student of English language. He likes writing stories in English and sometimes playing with rhymes.
They say I know you,
But truly, I don’t.
We have a deep connection?
A long history together?
I can’t believe it. I won’t.
You are hideous. A monster!
There is nothing before me that I wish to embrace.
Be gone, deceitful reflection, and take your disgusting lies with you!
October seems to bring about that icy trickle of fear that maybe we are who we think we are, after all.
Carrie won’t have dairy. Jonah won’t touch meat. The Quarringtons are vegan.
What do they all eat?
No gluten, no fructose, no nuts of any kind, no eggs and no bananas—I think I’ve lost my mind.
Dinner parties are such a drain—I’ll emulate Hannibal and just serve brain.
Mary Steer often wonders why no one ever comes to her house for dinner. More of her work may be found at her peanut-free website
I tripped over something and fell a long way,
didn’t expect this to happen today. Wrapped
in darkness Like a coat. Felt my belly hit
my throat. Looked for the ground
that should have been found,
but I was misinformed and
quickly became bored
as forever falling
Christopher Gannon is a writer of short fiction and theatre. He does not make up the stories; they make up him.
As the shroud of black spills across the mocking face of the moon, I dream of a time that once existed but is now just a fading memory.
“Look at me and remember the promise of a life to come; but look again! and observe it has passed already.”
Ludo is a believer in logic, science, and Frank Zappa.
He loves me, he loves me not.
He loves me, he loves me not.
She was tearing the tiny petals violently, leaving the flowers bare.
He loves me, was all I could hear before her voice faded in the distance, as we both kept marching through the Gardens of Oblivion.
Still water runs deep. That’s Jana.
I could go on about spirituality or a higher wossname
But this marvelous feeling I have upon finally discovering Carfury Menhir
After a glorious twelve mile walk
Can be explained away in terms that are entirely scientific
All the same I believe that I’m going to have to sing again
Philip Zunzuncito Sequoia once appeared (briefly) on the popular Channel 4 quiz show 15 To 1.
By a riverbank.
I built me a house.
Scarcely visibly to the eyes of the clouds,
I built me a little life,
Just across the way from humanity,
close to tranquility.
I mistake the canopy for heaven,
my skin for earth.
A place to cherish,
Omer Zamir is 23, a poet, and very happy to share his works.