Literatură – Page 10 – Writer Between Worlds

Thinking in haikus (3)

The austere sun gaping its hungry mouth: unfrozen streets, hushed voices. Thin gauze of floodlight, birds in wedding fever, boughs rotating lifeward. Young insects dashing, daring, thin cellular membrane of hope pulsates.
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Thinking in haikus (2)

Under the blinding sun I dream of quiet crisp- ness, Japanese pines. A forest muted by snow. Shy deer and ripe cones. The vastness singing.
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Thinking in haikus

Night winds and night unwinding. Shivers through lowered blinds. I startle, stir. The sleepless moon, perched on a windowsill, ogles my slumber. Leering.
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Words – an affair

They come at you unleashed and disembodied, dark feathers, beaks like birds of prey, wings flapping, slapping, threshing… An endless onslaught of nightfall and gloom. But then, as the squall calms (and it will, if you let it), a frail one will stand out – so brightly colored in its precious evanescence, filtering in straight…
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2022. My journey

To all aspiring writers out there: remain hopeful! I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t dreaming of writing professionally, writing for a living. I started playing with words the moment I learned how to speak. And yet, for the past 15 years I barely did any serious creative writing at all.…
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Staring life in the face

Most moving encounter of 2022
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Letter to Santa

Dear Santa, How strong must a desire be for it to finally come true? When people fail to hear each other’s needs, I’ve the solution: I shall turn to you. Please give us will to do what’s right and patience to endure pain when we must meet it; strength to fight off meanness; boldness to…
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Guileful October

– written on this day of the partial solar eclipse, when I am down with the flu – a cold, a splitting headache, and the blinding sun burning up with a fever of its own rushed between late risings and early twilights drilling into my skull as if to make up for lost time as…
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Time is…

…stillness. duration. a slender white egret – immovable, mirrorred – contemplating its own reflection in the pond: blink, blink. it’s only when it lifts off with imponderable grace, expanding, shedding itself – all spirit, all force – its transient image left behind to dissolve like an abandoned shroud like a skin that’s no longer needed…
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Which one would you buy?

Which one would you buy? Thanks to the wonderful Amie McCracken and Jessica Bell, our #Timisoara #travel #guide is coming along nicely. We are now working on a #cover and I could really use your feedback: Which of these three versions do you feel most drawn to? (When in doubt, imagine you are in a…
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Not alone

Someday you won’t remember any of this. Someday, your body will have forgotten his novel touch, how it felt to have his arms wrapped around you like a safety belt, his lips on your skin, his hand in yours, or what you talked about. A waft of his after-shave won’t make you turn your head…
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Category: Literatură