Fifty Eight


Here’s an interesting piece I just read on WordPress.

Originally posted on Short Stories of the Ordinary:

Urgent digits rifled through photographs. The story of her life.
She was trying to find answers to the questions posed by blackout nights. She laid them out methodically on the floor paying careful attention to chronology and came face to face with the eyes of the carefree. Through time the numbers in the photographs got thinner, her skin grew thicker and eyes glazed over. Carefree was replaced by nihilism and an internal anarchy.

The story stopped at twenty-three.

Now she was twenty-nine. She still had no answers to what it was that she had been doing all of that time.

View original

Turning Point


Paul F. Lenzi’s writing is so enchanting!

Originally posted on Poesy plus Polemics:

"Turning Point" Painting by Elizabeth Fiedel From

“Turning Point”
Painting by Elizabeth Fiedel

came a time of upheaval
transformative moments
convened to become
a season of mind
replete with resolve

draw sweet country air
through the pain
take the wedge of despair
and the maul of a pen
split the bitterness
burn it bring forth from
its flames inspiration

create tidy therapies
exercised thoughts
isometric emotions
those atrophied dreams
pressed and kneaded and
pulled into verse shaped
by confident words
strong and painproof

View original

- strikeout in dreamland -

Last night was a rarity.

If I had any dream,

any nightmare,

any fanciful folly in my mind…


I have no recollection of such events.


As if the night never came to be,

reality from slumber is what I see.

As if darkness lit up and faded away,

I’m left within the bare walls of today.



D.J. Whisenant

- surprises -

Getting carried away will

not happen this time around.

Invitations will be sent with-

out inviting trauma.

Even with this supporting role,

I feel the hooks of devotion

in this back of mine.


Make a wish.



D.J. Whisenant

- two milkshakes -

Dairy is the devil,

and the devil is a lie…


yet what a master liar it is to me.


Tonight, I doubled up,

reckless… inane with thirst.

A little vanilla with Oreo,

a lot of chocolate marshmallow,

I treated myself to the

least mellow of outcomes.


No one cared about my cravings,

and why should they?  

I wanted to treat myself…


damn the consequences.



D.J. Whisenant



Helen Valentina is a great poet and writer. Check out her other work on her blog!

Originally posted on helenvalentina:

Are we seeing it again?
Eyes averred to those in need
Are we pampering the egos
That grow fat on blood and greed?
Are we seeing it again?

Are we hearing it again?
Rhetoric of wilful right
Do we count up all the cost as
Lives are shattered in the night?
Are we hearing it again?

Are we feeling it again?
Such a dread and dark despair
When we search for our heart’s allies
We are left so wanting there
Are we feeling it again?

Are we knowing it again?
Cycles form and darkness grows
We are victims of our hatred
Thus the wheel of fate bestows
Are we knowing it again?

(c) Helen Valentina 2014, All Rights Reserved

View original