“Do one thing a day that scares you,” said Eleanor Roosevelt.
So I went without makeup, in a sleeveless top and shorts (sans my Spanx).
With gray roots and more than laugh wrinkles showing my age, I performed my daily errands.
The freedom I felt overcame the stares I imagined.
Ruth Mannino is at the stage of life where insecurity battles with reality buoyed by a sense of humor.
Howling wind, the trees sway slow,
the night, a storm of blackened leaf,
come crashing down to show the moon
her lasting brightness veiled by grief.
The wails start from nowhere,
from woods afar arrive their song.
The weary cry with echo on,
’til dawn creeps up like nothing’s wrong.
Rose Comstive is an upper-level college writer at East Texas Baptist University. She has experience in journalistic writing, short story writing, poetry, and others. She is hoping to graduate with a degree in communications with a minor in writing as well as photography and return home to Houston Texas to continue her work.
It’s September already. Don’t you see? There isn’t much time.
Get up, quick or we’ll get left behind.
Come on now. Stretch and shake your wings. Look alive!
Great.
There! The flock is here.
Join in, join in.
Fall in line!
Well done.
Let’s keep flying till it’s warm again!
Andrea Belle is a writer dappling in poetry, short stories and novels for a wide range of readers. Find her on Instagram @thejovialwriter. You can read more of her work here: https://thejovialwriter.blogspot.com.
My son and his girlfriend arrive for a visit. Can I fix you something to eat? I ask, listing the options. No, he says. We thought we’d catch a bite out somewhere. Great, I say. I’d love that. A missed beat. A sideways glance. Uh. Just us, he says. Ah.
Devon Balwit walks in all weather. Her most recent collections are Rubbing Shoulders with the Greats [Seven Kitchens Press 2020] and Dog-Walking in the Shadow of Pyongyang [Nixes Mate Books, 2021]. See more at https://pelapdx.wixsite.com/devonbalwitpoet.
The story of the week for August 22 to 26 was…
Fingers and Toes by Anneliese A. Boyd
I am a drop of rain moving down the mountain. You are also a drop of rain, finding your own way to the sea. Perhaps we will meet again some day.
The ocean isn’t made of many drops of water; the ocean itself is just one big drop of water.
Richard Evanoff has lived most of his adult life in Japan and been active in literary circles in Tokyo as a writer, editor, and performer. His short stories tend towards surrealism and have been published in Dream International Quarterly, Mind in Motion, The Mythic Circle, and other publications.
Jim pours maple syrup over pancakes before
confessing to his wife he enjoys wearing
leopard panties.
His wife smirks as she reveals a zipper
and unzips her flesh suit from head to groin,
confessing she is a fish with golden scales.
Her glistening tail slaps Jim’s pancakes off the table.
Christopher Gannon is a Storyteller from Buffalo, NY.
Some dreams wither under direct gaze.
To nurture them, you must avert your focus;
Set your sights to pastures beyond.
One day, you will greet your blossomed dreams
As you pad gently by at serendipitous crossings–
Appreciated, but destinations no longer.
Removed from the spotlight, they thrive in cool relief.
M. K. Beam is a software developer and roller-derby skater who loves rodents.
He was gorgeous, the boy of my dreams. I obsessed over every sighting, every casual word—though seldom meant for me.
And then, one day, he called. “How ’bout a movie,” he said.
“Okay,” I replied. Thump went my heart.
The movie was wonderful. The boy—not so much.
Bummer.
Carol Reeves wrote this story.
Breathless from missing you, I run smack into the middle of an August sunrise. My aching feet pound the hot pavement. Sprint past painful memories. What’s done is done you quip when I beg for a second chance to make things better. Your sigh further stretches the distance between us.
Tammy Smith, a social worker from New Jersey, enjoys running almost as much as writing.