Friday Poem: Man I’m (Not) Okay
Another day, a man and his heartAnother weight, the world had to offerSad and depressed, he had burried over and overYet “I’m okay” they hope to hear Tears that he
Wednesday Poem: Unveiling the Facade
Beneath the layers, a mask I wore,Hiding truths I couldn’t ignore.In public’s eye, I played the part,But shadows lingered in my heart. The man they saw, the man they praised,A
A Mystery in the Shape of a Book
Philip Graham in The Millions: On a gravel road outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming, I stood before a Little Free Library painted the colors of the Pride flag. How had it
Monday Poem: Sophie Reece Poetry
Life is a string of wishes,that reality misses,Love is a bruiseTime only heals parts of itBut we all have memories we will never lose. -by Sophie Reece on Facebook9/21/2024
What Fighting Fantasy Gamebooks Can Teach Us About Creativity
by Tracy Caldor in Cupoty Newsletter: Back in the 1980s I borrowed a Fighting Fantasy gamebook from the library. For anyone unfamiliar with the concept, these books made you the
Continue readingWhat Fighting Fantasy Gamebooks Can Teach Us About Creativity
Friday Poem: I Don’t Like Poetry
I don’t like similes.Every time I try to think of onemy brain feels like a vast, empty desert;my eyes feel like raisins floating in an ocean;my fingers feel like sweaty
Thursday Poem: Tree Hole
if u r a hammer rest will appear nails.if u r a screwdriver they’ll get screwed!if u r a Swiss army knife rest are MacGyvers. if u r a prose
Tuesday Poem: Enriching the Earth
To enrich the earth I have sowed clover and grassto grow and die. I have plowed in the seedsof winter grains and various legumes,their growth to be plowed in to
The Great French Painter Who Had No Time For France
Describing himself as the ‘savage from Peru’, Paul Gauguin avoided French society when he could, returning to Polynesia in 1895, where he spent his final years… … Continue readingThe Great French Painter Who Had No Time For France
Monday Poem: Premise of Wise Fools
Sudden commotion inside premise of wise foolssilent gestures, whispering voices, hands raiseda la desperation gathering hurried conclusionsas if end perhaps is near.Fear wakes in them the truthanother year is wrestling
Sunday Poem: A Poetry By Pablo Neruda
And it was at that age… Poetry arrivedin search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know whereit came from, from winter or a river.I don’t know how or when,no
Saturday Poem: Money Ghazal
Easy new habits—gain weight, lose money.Mamma said, Don’t wed for love. Choose money. Life is suffering, Buddha taught. He’s right.Which brings more comfort—a hug? Booze? Money? Midnight. Lipstick on glasses,