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The Toymaker’s HeartOnce upon a time,
In a faraway place that wasn’t quite so far away at all, there lived a Toymaker. It was not her trade, but it was her craft, and that is a far truer measure of a soul. By day she sat in a cushioned chair in her own private office, making telephone calls and looking out the plate glass window at the city below. She liked to imagine that the vehicles were tiny matchbox cars, little wooden carvings with button wheels. The people were tiny lead figurines, each cast from the same mold before tender, careful hands painted a life onto each miniscule face. The buildings across the way were enormous dollhouses, so intricately carved that one might think them real. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
1946Snowflakes blew sideways down Main Street in Richmond, Virginia. It was Valentine's Day. Newlyweds, James and Betty Smith cuddled inside the trolley car. Betty took the cuff of her coat and brushed it across the window. Snow powdered brick buildings, running boards of parked Fords and Packards heaped with flurries, the sun paused low over the horizon. The Capitol was dusted in shades of gray.
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King Focalor Loves UsKing Focalor, descend upon Me -
Liberate My Family and set Us free from the wretched curse that leaks all your tears. Bind my foes with the stuff of their fears. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
To NatureBy Hiraa Kazmi QuailBellMagazine.com I
Senses attune to the weather changes Nature comprehends the ‘Natural’ With no effort whatsoever Skin feels the approaching rain Before grey clouds hover and burst Pouring heart and soul on the Parched recesses of waiting earth Ears hear sounds before their birth relentless echoes of the howling storm The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Vanishing MuseOnce, your face painted
Inspiration across pages and dreams. Coiling through the spaces in my syllables, Lighting my sentences with passion. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Aquatic Poetry
By The Quail Bell Crew
QuailBellMagazine.com
Over the holidays, we created an underwater video as a poetry prompt for the Quail Bell community. Here are some of our favorite poems from what we received.
Expand By Olivia Wu In the sea of perception, I seek among so many fish until I touch stillness within. Love, truth and beauty expand until they permeate my reality. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Holding Hands in Bell in HandThe cool, still air allows for a great time to rest my thoughts. My hands burrow into my warm pockets, my thumb brushing the pad of my pointer finger slowly. I want this to go well. Meeting Margot allows me to get another chance at love, and even though I try to remain calm, my insides electrify; the currents zinging from my toes to around my body.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Burying Dead ThingsAfter he heard the beeping of the microwave, he heard his girlfriend’s ten year old daughter’s sobs from the downstairs recreation room. With a little hesitation, he pulled out an Earl Gray Tea packet and dropped it into his mug before walking down to check on her.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Autumn's EveI see you, blood-orange moon,
betwixt the boughs, aloft and waxing toward fullness. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
RemembranceYou were the acorn that fell on her windshield
and cracked it like the jolting gunshot leaving a glass tiny shooting star that doesn’t obstruct or abstract her vision but everywhere she drives, one lonely spark in a constellation. (You know, like if Orion wore a polished buckle but not a whole belt, and showed it off while she was trying to merge lanes.) |