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It's Time
The last echo of snowmelt has vanished.
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Sugar Easter Egg
By Christine Hamm
QuailBellMagazine.com
The pale yellow frosting draped around the entrance to the green world had little flavor and tasted of dust. The walls were sweet, but rough on the tongue and impossible to bite. The clear cover between the inner and outer world was plastic. The figures inside did not move, and could never be shook loose. Once there was a small pink carriage. Once a family of mice was having tea. There was grass but no sky. the light that did leak in was blocked by her eye, or had to seep through the spotted candy walls. Variegated. At first, they had to be held steady with both hands, but they shrank each year, so she could manage it with one fist by the time she was 8.
#Unreal #Poem #EasterEgg #Spring #Otherworldly #Cute
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The Art of Adorable Monique
By Adorable Monique
QuailBellMagazine.com Adorable Monique is a U.S. based artist brought up abroad. She received art instruction in fine arts. She has received merit awards and the opportunity to exhibit in various venues. She has had the good fortune to be mentored by a renown Central American artist, which has helped enriched her artistic vision. Growing up surrounded by different cultures has broadened her overall view of life. She is continuously pursuing success in personal, professional, and artistic endeavors as well in the artistic experience itself. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Poor Math
By M.C. St. John
QuailBellMagazine.com
She smokes and puns and swears
pokes my ego in all the right ways… The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Surrender
This is the first
ride home I ever enjoyed. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
These Memories Are Not Machine Washable
Things that aren’t machine washable:
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FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE
By Dr. M. Leona Godin
@DrMLGodin QuailBellMagazine.com *Author's Note: Inspired by Thomas Campion's 1601 "Fire! Fire!" Which you can listen to HERE
Met you yesterday, but it doesn't matter
That the world looks flat from a bird's eye view Cause I felt the climb, and I feel the height, Even though I'm surrounded by a thousand plateaus. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Home Remedies
By M.C. St. John
QuailBellMagazine.com
…When women and coffee and El platforms kill white blood cells, take 2 Tylenol with water and read Chapter 1 of 100 Years of Solitude because Marquez is a cool cloth for a brow burning red… The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Artichokes
By M.C. St. John
QuailBellMagazine.com
In the living room, the streetlight
found me peeling artichokes in a black dish. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Preservation of Language, in the Future Tense: A Would-Be Love Poem
On some days, the losses are so small
we don’t notice them slipping away. On others, we crack dry, infinitesimal. Today we hold our words like spinning clay. |