I am a dreamer, a writer who never published a word, A painter who never sold her painting. Inside me, there are untold stories, a passion. I am a woman who can love like Aphrodite. I am the caged bird who craves the freedom of a falcon. My long wild hair holds memories and…
Out in the meadow, Leafs whisper mellow Waiting to be struck by this Indecent fellow-the round red ball. Upon the crack of dawn, Birds chirp in distrust; Winds cry in despair; Looking teased and embarrassed. Mother bird threw a tantrum For their lose of abode. The atmosphere tirade- All day for the loss…
In school, teacher says, “speaking and writing fluently in English is the test of knowledge.” That the inscribed tongue situated inside my oral cavity by my ancestors is prohibited, that if I keep tonguing my tongue, I will be a jackleg. So, to prove that I am not a jackleg, I try to speak in…
these poems i now write my caucasian editor says i am losing my spark. he says i no longer write those poems that wows his periodical’s faithfuls: poems that faithfully bend to his people’s narratives that I am indeed a savage needing of their lectures on how to be human. he says I no…
Chant du Cygne November is notoriously contrary, but this delicious afternoon I headed for the beach. You’d not suppose that marching to the tide-edge, preceded by a fifty-kilo brute buck-leaping backwards, would trigger musing. But as he sniffs my pocket, woofs and circles, frantic to play fetch, I find myself by chance upon a busman’s…
...but you don’t want to miss our monthly creative writing opportunities roundup! 😉
Sign up to get our newsletters straight into your inbox.