The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
My grandmother measures ageBy Rishitha Shetty QuailBellMagazine.com My grandmother measures age as a shift of coins, Powdery, smooth surfaced, She ties old ones to a tree in white polythene. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Stained BabiesBorn from the lure of unfaithful spouses who want what someone else got The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
One Black NightBy Lowell Jaeger QuailBellMagazine.com Driving home alone, one black night,
straining through fog to stay on my side of the centerline as the narrow highway twists and climbs. At the canyon rim, the fog lifts, the road straightens across drowsy miles of wheat stubble . . . . The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Metamorphosis
I was walking down the creek When I heard her call me; Her voice the sweep of soft breath on my cheek; As the gushing rivulet roared, And the wind rustled in the leaves of the great oaks. I turned and lay me eyes upon her The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Lady MacbethWords by Camille Adnot Image by Claudio Parentela QuailBellMagazine.com
Lady Macbeth has a case of bad blood She’s got a bad case of conscience-mud The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Two SistersDingo is the smart one
But Wombat has the looks In the family, a dark The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The MannequinBy Raymond Fenech QuailBellMagazine.com I thought the mannequin
Was throwing me a kiss From its white pouting lips; Virgin, that cannot speak or sin. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Arrows in the AirBy T. R. Healy QuailBellMagazine.com A slight breeze stirred in the trees and, at once, Isaac held out the shotgun microphone to record the sound. It only lasted for an instant, though, and then the air was still again.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Flower GardenBy Emily Acker QuailBellMagazine.com Purple, shades of pink
Petals falling, buds open Yards of intense hues The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Even Mother Nature MarchesShe will not go gentle into that good night
Not when it’s the universe she must fight Make no mistake accidents are not her style Every droplet gust and crash done with guile |