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I Am Me By Steven Joseph McCrystal QuailBellMagazine.com I’ve travelled around my world to several different places To my heart, to my mind, to my spirit, and maybe even to my soul Yes. I’m still here. And yes: my heart still beats—although it’s both ripped and torn A heart that was once in command of me, that now begins to tire, and grow cold And, as the life blood beats around my veins I know that I am...I am. I know that I am me--my mind, its feelings, and everything it’s seen All of this becomes my whispered wisdoms: a voice that echoes from the deep Don’t be a fool, don’t be a nut, don’t do that or you’ll never make the cut... And, yes: My mind’s cold and careful monologue moves me. Day by day. My soul still yearns for carefree freedoms. It yearns to have its say--then it shouts: I am your soul! I am the music! I am the joy, the sorrow, and the pain! I am the love, and I am the hate: That sip from the devils cup that you always fear to take I am the wisdom from your foolishness and much, much, more I am your life; I am your death. I am everything: The beginning and the end I am all these things inside me. I am the great work of my life. I am the Soul #Unreal #Poetry #Soul #Music #Joy #Sorrow #Pain #CreativeWriting #Verse #IAmMe #Echoes #YourLife #YourDeath Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Apple Blossoms When the drought struck and spring blossoms fell we were without apples in fall. The starved bees roaming the leafless orchard searched for sustenance landed on your shoulder wanted to suck your soured skin to turn you into an apple blossom to cross pollinate your dreams with their ultraviolet love. #Unreal #Poetry #Photography #Nature #Imagery #Pollinate #SpringBlossoms #AppleBlossoms #Flowers Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
For a Best Friend By Archita Mittra QuailBellMagazine.com Do you remember the time We were two strangers Dangling our legs Over imaginary lakes As sunlight drowned, our Laughter? Do you remember the time We sat side by side Reading books we don’t Read anymore? Do you remember the windows That trapped us, inside? The curtains that hid, the sunlight? Those phantom faces, that have all melted Into a nowhere? And do you remember That moment, somewhere When we became friends? Because I don’t, and I thought I knew you forever But I never really look as closely As you do, With your glassy eyes- Two sunlit windows Opening into sunlit skies. Do you light them up, Every time, you rise? Because I want you to be My everlasting candle Of hope And sunshine. Do you remember the time We were apart, Separated by walls and strangers And ourselves? Maybe I did not miss you too much, Because you were already there in my heart. Do you forget, all the days of bliss? Because I do. The memories dry up Like imaginary lakes But the happiness and the solace Burn into my heart Like phantoms or stars. Will you remember me When we depart To drown in shadowy worlds? Will you dream Of days you long to rewrite? I know you will. I just hope, when I see you again I shall see those sunlit windows Those sunlit skies That flame Burning Within you, And we will smile Like we always do Burning In our love for each other And my pain in missing you. #Unreal #BestFriends #FriendsForever #FriendshipPoems #FriendshipPoetry #BFF #Poetry Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Tire Light By Andrew Elsakr QuailBellMagazine.com The tire light came on so I went over to the Shell on Regents Avenue. I pulled my Lexus up to the service station and got out. The attendant was talking to the person in the car in front of mine, a girl from what I could see in the side mirror. I could see her laughing and then I saw the back of the attendant's head bob up and down as he laughed too and then he gave her his flip phone and she put her number into it. He waved and she drove off.
He turned around and started toward my car. Now that his face was visible, I could tell that he wasn't any older than me, probably even a bit younger. His hair looked like he’d cut it himself, and he had no facial hair or sign of any. He had a young face I imagined made getting girls' numbers a breeze. I was wearing a button-up shirt with a tie because that was the dress code for Fridays at my school. As the boy approached me, I noticed him shoot a glance at my shoes, my white Clarks, before looking up and greeting me. "What can I do for you?" He said. "I just need some air in my tires." "Sure," he said, grabbing the pump. "I've been getting these all week. Something to do with the temperature change." He took off the cap of the first tire. "You know how much pressure's supposed to go in these?" I frowned. "I think I forgot. It's been a while." He went to the driver's side door and tried to open it, but it was locked. I unlocked it and he held it open it for a second to look at some writing at the bottom I hadn't noticed before. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Spill-O's Empty Bed That university girl had too much vulture in her for Spill-O. And he forwent the opportunity. The cold bridge and shaky, silent morning were more his scene. He admits that’s not very All-American Boy of him. And he has to live with that. #Unreal #Poetry #AdventuresOfSpill-O #Unrequited #Relationships #Solitude #SelfAwareness Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Breviary Notes The breaking of twigs and wings after we gather in his name. I throw salt at night’s terrors, dreams of my mother devouring the light. Overflowing bowl of collarbones. I run on stripped feet in a river forever tearing rocks. One of my ribs wrapped in feathers. Where my soul is a place, the flare of paradise, snow. The language of heaven doesn’t pass away – the fish in the sea and the sea in the fish. In the center of grief is the City of Heaven where only a sinner can believe in stones where a saint can say my eyes have seen the sinner fling happiness into fire. #Unreal #Poetry #Photography #Prayers #Imagery #Sin #HumanNature #Fallible Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Buddha's Mine and Lady of Sedona By Cheryl Jordan QuailBellMagazine.com Buddha's Mine I took a road trip around Phoenix, Arizona recently. Buddha's Mine was compiled from photos in and around the old mining town of Jerome, Arizona and Lady of Sedona hovers over the glowing yellow cottonwood trees coming into the red rock country of Sedona, Arizona. The lady herself is located in the sculpture garden of the Heard Museum in Phoenix. We encountered many fat and chatty quail on our trip, surely an auspicious sign. Lady of Sedona #Unreal #Buddha #LadyOfSedona #Arizona #SouthwesternArt #ArizonaArt #OtherworldlyArt #Collage #MixedMedia Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Hand on the Door Anson Briar was in the midst of a strange dream. His pillow sapped in the anxious sweat of his brow, Anson murmured and yelped little nothings, as if he were a squirming puppy still too young to open its eyes.
Meanwhile his wife Tammy, a large homely woman, lay undisturbed beside him, a peaceful grimace spreading out upon her round, night-blue features. Their children, two boys, Dale and Carter, slept down the hallway from their parents’ bedroom; both of them fast asleep. The windows of the house were all varnished in a cold, wet fog; gone black with the resplendent winter night. A pale aura rose up now, where moonlight reflected off the blankets of snow that had fallen steadily throughout the day. Such harsh outer conditions somehow made the warmth of a shelter homier, and served as a reminder of their many God-given blessings, Anson and his wife had reflected together just a little after ten o’clock; before saying goodnight and switching off their bedside lamps. They had both fallen asleep quickly and had remained so for three hours since. Anson’s arm suddenly came up and then stretched off the bedside, like he was shaking someone’s hand, someone to whom he felt in a subordinate position. His fingers pawed at the air as he mumbled something about how, “You wanted to see me, sir,” and, “No sir, it’s warm enough for me…” Nothing more than gibberish really, but to Anson the circumstances were very real, very serious, and so he was on his best behavior. In the dream Anson had been his regular self for most of the time; going about his business as an Assembly Man at a factory in Tukwila. It was just like it always was save for a few strangely altered details. For example, his workspace was moved to a different wall of the factory. And instead of working alongside Wade Hanky, he now shared a bench with his older sister, Carol. Which he took more or less in stride, adapting to his sister’s company beside him with all the nonchalance of a man smelling his wife’s new perfume. By far the most alien element of the dream to Anson, though, was that it felt as if a very dreadful event was creeping its way to the surface, whereas he usually felt a great deal of complacency and ease at work. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Freaks Like Us By Ren Martinez QuailBellMagazine.com Peter first laid eyes on Billy Fraser in the middle of the LEGO aisle at Toys R’ Us. Peter was already lanky for a six-year-old, scrounging along the higher shelves to find the medieval castle that would complete his collection. Or, at least, until the latest model came out. He was distracted by a rescue helicopter and didn’t notice he was being stared at until he looked up and met a pair of eyes the color of a blue raspberry slushie.
“Uhh…” Peter wrinkled his nose. “Hello?” The boy across from him said nothing. He was by far the strangest creature that Peter had ever seen, and Peter was a fae halfling (on his mother’s side), so that was saying something. The boy had freckles across his nose and curly blonde hair. That wasn’t the unusual part. He was wearing a Spiderman t-shirt, also not that strange, but beneath that was a bright pink tutu, jean shorts, and striped socks stuck into lime green Converse sneakers. Peter was also wearing Converse, but that was about where the similarities ended. Those slushie blue eyes blinked at him before the boy’s face split into a grin. A small hand clasped his own, forcing him to lean down. “Hey!” He yelped. “I’m Billy,” the boy introduced. “Do you like castles?” Peter shrugged. “Yeah.” Without ado, Billy began pulling him down the aisle. “Where are we going?” His feet kept following even as he wondered why he was following in the first place. “If you like castles, then you must like knights,” the boy named Billy reasoned. He turned them into another section, where a large blow-up castle and foam swords and pink tiaras littered the ground. “And, if you like knights, you must like princesses.” Billy released his hand, scooping up a cone-hat with a pink scarf flowing from the top and tugging it onto his head. “Well, come on!” He shouted, pointing to the castle. “How am I supposed to rescue you if you’re not in the castle?” Peter frowned, serious in the way only six-year-olds are serious. “I’m not a princess. You’re the princess; you’re wearing pink!” Instead of being suitably chastised, Billy just laughed, grabbing a wand off the floor and waving it like a sword. “Of course, I’m a princess!” He giggled. “And, I’m gonna rescue you!” The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Auric Aviary #Unreal #MixedMedia #Collage #Canvas #Parrot #Birds #Sequins #Beads #BirdInProfile #LoveBird Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. |