Tag Archives: hope

VERNAE COFFEE: Comfort in the Familiar

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

Sunlight creeps through my bedroom window on the morning’s shoulders. Roosters crow and crickets chirp against the cargo train’s fading whistle. Cardinals dash from nandina berry bushes to plush dogwood blooms. Squirrels pose like monuments within towering blades of grass.

Our world has changed, but morning’s familiarity brings great comfort.

Vernae is new to the world of publishing, but is enjoying every moment of it. She began submitting her work for publication in 2018 and has been published several times. Her unpublished Children’s Book “Teddy Wet My Bed” was recently selected as one of five Finalists by Eyelands 2019 Book Awards in the Unpublished Books Category. Vernae prays for the health and safety of our families, nation, and world.

JOHN YOUNG: Cat

Artistic, Submissions, Touching, , , , ,

Had the cat been mine I would have signalled its swift demise, thinking, what sort of life can a cat have with three legs? But there it was, keenly curious, joyfully hobbling around my garden, nearly catching two feuding wood pigeons, doing cat things. Well, for one short summer anyway.

John Young is an old chap grappling with themes of limits, longings, and finitude. He lives in locked-down St Andrews, Scotland, an ancient town with an ancient university, home of golf, home also – allegedly – of many ghosts (though he has not met any yet).

RON. LAVALETTE: May Day

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

He’d waited long enough.
Surrounded by new greens
under a fresh blue
he drew three deep breaths,
dove into May’s first morning.

May air fills lungs more fully than
any April rain has ever flooded
any April field. May Day’s sunshine
warms everything more deeply
than any mid-winter furnace fire.

Ron. Lavalette lives on Vermont’s Canadian border. His poetry, flash fiction, and creative nonfiction has been very widely published in both print and pixel forms. His first chapbook, Fallen Away (Finishing Line Press), is now available at all standard outlets. A reasonable sample of his published works can be found at EGGS OVER TOKYO.

CONNELL WAYNE REGNER: The Pandemic

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

Awaken despairing eyes
A new day dawns
Tragedy betrays beauty
In unbelievable dimensions
Lines are drawn
And heroes fall
Life goes on
But never as before.
The nights are long
Reality stark
Emotions run high
Love is born
And love dies
But we go on
Waiting for the day
Waiting…

Connell still writes a bit.

ANNA SANDERSON: 2065

Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

Grandpa’s favourite story’s about the pandemic, when everyone stayed inside to stay safe. People sang for strangers and painted with their kids. Those who were able ran errands, called old friends, learnt neighbours’ names. Terrifying times, but amazing, Grandpa says.

He’s obviously exaggerating. Surely people did these things before that?

Anna Sanderson writes about the world as she sees it (with the odd twist and turn). You can follow her story on Twitter at @annasanderson86.

JO WITHERS: Home

Adventure, Artistic, Poetry, Submissions, Top Stories, , , , ,

Every year,
After the autumnal fogs of Mars
Have made me melancholy,
And the moon’s tranquil seas
Have melted my bitterness,
I sail to Earth
And stroll beside the snapping salty oceans,
To my cryogenic grave,
Drop petals onto empty casket,
And mourn humanity
And days when life was simple.

Jo Withers writes short fiction from her home in South Australia. Recent work has appeared in Retreat West, Milk Candy Review, Ellipsis Zine, and Best Microfictions 2020.

ANDREW BRIDGEMAN: Hope For The Withering

Submissions, Touching, , , ,

A bedside bouquet blooms fresh, red and yellow, only for you.

Ignore the square machines humming under sterile plastic sheeting. Consider every brilliant petal a perfumed watchman, the spirit of those that yearn to hold you and bolster your withering hope.

The flowers plead, “Fight! You’re needed here with us.”

Andrew Bridgeman wrote this story. See more at andrewbridgeman.com.

JENNIFER L FREED: Beautiful Things

Artistic, Submissions, Top Stories, Touching, , , ,

My grandmother’s china—
the set I used to save
for holidays: fine
rims of gold, delicate
patterns of green—I use it

every day,
don’t worry about chips, don’t
delay its offerings.
These days I need
porcelain teacups, warm
against my palms. My brother

has died.

Use
the fine china.

Jennifer L Freed mostly writes poems, which have appeared in various journals and anthologies. See more on her website, jfreed.weebly.com.

ROBIN D ANDERSON: Quiet Like Sunday

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

Listen.

Quiet like Sunday on the first of Spring. No traffic, no voices, no airplanes. Only birdsong or a dog barking.

Listen.

Humanity withdraws and the world settles into silence. People in houses gaze through closed windows. They can hear sunlight drip off buildings and roar down empty streets.

Listen.

Robin writes in the odd corners of the day and night and often about birds. See more at thenightmail.com.

RUTH SKRINE: Renewal

Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

I am lonely. Colleagues were my friends. No meetings, no journeys. I am only a doctor when stopped by the police for speeding.

When my husband died, years ago, writing softened my loss. The notebook is still by my bed.

I pick up a pen and start to write again.

Ruth is a retired doctor who has written extensively for the profession. Since retiring she has published a memoir and three novels. She finds flash fiction very rewarding for the elderly brain.