My World

I can get lost in

Your eyes that seep ocean water

The cracks and valleys in your hands

The sunbeams in your laughter

I see you and

My head rests among the clouds

You walk in starlight, you shimmer and glow and everyone is

captivated

as you walk by

I touch you and I have held the world in my hands,

your universe swallows me whole

The Fledgeling

This story was an assignment in which were asked to write a short story omitting the letter “a”; a lipogrammatic challenge. I may or may not have purposefully misspelled the word “dissonant” to make the story work..

It is bright, close to blinding outside. Through the tiny clefts in the blinds, slivers of white light splinter upon the wooden floor; the room seems to glow, otherworldly. Eyelids force themselves to uncouple; the girl’s body pushes itself up, her eyes squint. She forces herself into an upright position; she needs to close the window. From outside, the dissnonent sound of a deep, persistent thump of a stereo seeps through the window screen. The girl sighs; the window shuts. She turns, looking down. The floor she’s slept on seems to be dented from her nightly rest. No money, no money for couches, beds, sheets, comforters .Fledgeling with no mother– not for months — no income– the money she spends on food is not hers. Her rent is long overdue. She closes her eyes; long sigh.

Flarf

Feeling sentimental and stuff. Poems used: “I love you” by Ella Wheeler Cox; “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe; “The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!” by John Keats; “Dear One Absent This Long While” by Lisa Olstein; “I loved you first: but afterwards your love” by Christina Rosseti; “[Lying in bed I think about you]” by Joshua Beckman; “You, Therefore” by Reginald Shepard; “Dangerous Love” by Maya Asregadoo

 

My darling dearest sweetheart

Lying in bed I think about you

here where there is no snow 

(I dreamed the snow was you, when there was snow)

Yours is the name the leaves chatter

at the edge of the unrabbited woods.

I loved you first— 

loved with a love that was more than love

Did you ever love me,

 my Annabel Lee?

You called me yours once and I smiled

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!

Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes

Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,

 Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise –

i – still – carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart)

i am never without it

My darling dearest sweetheart

Lying in bed I think about you

here where there is no snow 

Elegy to Childhood

by Maya Asregadoo

Day after day marked off of the calendar

Endless ticking of a clock

School, job

life

Make it stop, make it stop

Sticky-sweet apple juice on my fingers

Cracker crumbs on my lips and

Wet soil packed onto my pants and

Gravel stuck between the cracks of my

Shoes

My mother shook her head in

Exasperation but she still

Smiled with secret pleasure

Days devoted to learning and play

In equal measure Continue reading

dangerous love

by Maya Asregadoo

My

darling

 dearest

  sweetheart

I want

to tell

you all of these things

You have stolen my

 breath

You have stolen my

 thoughts

You are sweet and you love

sweet things

I want nothing more

than to hold

y

o

ur

attention

You

called me yours

once

and I smiled

When I see you

my heart beats

faster

and louder

and faster

and louder

still

You make me feel

very shy

I always

want

to see you

If you read this

you will not know

that it is a

bout

yo

u

Simplicity

Life is not black and white, but rather, it is made up of many shades of gray. So, quantifying words such as good and evil requires very simple definitions. Otherwise, there is too much potential for debate, and the words “good” and “evil” lose their potency. So, simply put, I believe that evil is any action done intentionally to harm another being.

Janice Prays For Janice by Hannah Edgar

It’s not that she had a fear of flying. It was more a fear of the hypothetical, the What-Ifs that swarmed the cabin and stuffed themselves resolutely into the twin turbine engines under the wings. They had an annoying habit of lying dormant, those What-Ifs, at least until the very moment she settled in her seat—always, always by the window—and buckled her seatbelt. Then, suddenly, as if the metal catch were a trigger, the What-Ifs were there, springing out from behind her tray table like jack-in-the-boxes, rubbing their grubby little hands together with the conniving hedonism of fruit flies. It was easy to sink into those What-Ifs. Fortunately for Janice, in business class, it was also easy to order a scotch and soda. Continue reading