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Train Roulette
Words and Image by Deniz Ataman
QuailBellMagazine.com
“Where did you say the metro is again?”
“Walk four blocks, take a right by the museum. And you'll see the sign for the orange line. That'll take you to Rue Cartier.” Zia pulled out her last crinkled Canadian dollar to tip Gus The Bartenter. He was her friend for an hour while she drank discounted beer and talked and listened. “It's different over there in Vancouver," he said, carefully enunciating his words, "My English sucks. I went to there to speak better. But I ended up just smoking weed and, how do you say, chop up, my English? How is my English now?” he asked with a boyish smile. “It's better than my French,” she said. They played a game of conversational roulette every time he returned to the bar from serving a table. The topic always changed like her beer, sometimes bitter, sometimes warm: The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Black Man's Chopper
By Marc Carver
QuailBellMagazine.com
The sun came out
so I whipped off all my clothes and jumped on the sun lounger. I baked and baked until the clouds came. Later in the shower I looked at my dick it was black I had a black man's dick. The only difference was, it was not as big, not that I have seen a black man's dick not in real life anyway. I have only seen them on porno sites usually going into white women and they always look big a lot bigger than mine anyway.
#Unreal #Poetry #Manhood #Expectations
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Black Holes and RainbowsEmpty inside, I need to fill a hole - so I shovel in my dirt to find a little goal Routine, routine, joy, routine, routine, joy As I toil amongst the drudgery I find a vibrant colored light It fills my heart with pleasure and I’m starved of scornful spite And as my heartbeat beats with yesterday’s fashions I find that today I’m wearing one of its dullest detachments I often dream a dream of becoming more than I am I often dream a dream of following a much grander plan But at the risk of being reckless and abandoning my hole I find myself tormented by my golden dreams of old But as I tip toe towards them getting close and closer still My heart starts pounding when it’s tickled with the thrill The thrill of being someone chasing a rainbow colored soul The thrill of being someone who’s getting closer to their goal
#Unreal #Goals #Rainbows #Color #Black Holes #MakeDreamsHappen
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The Black Widow to the Hulk (or, The Ballad of Wise Women Through the Ages)
By Adreyo Sen
QuailBellMagazine.com You fear me. Or rather you fear to hold me. You fear you are too much, that the too much in you will explode into despair. You fear you will take me with you. Know then that even if yours are hands so rough, even if they are never held to cheeks that blush, they are yet so soft as they lift me above a world lit by your fears. Your fears are very real, my love. Hold me then, with all in you that is fierce and yet so just, and if I burn, it matters not, I burn already, yes I am that much in love.
#Unreal #Marvel #Poetry #FierceLove #TheAvengers
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Man on the Sun
By Julian Drury
QuailBellMagazine.com
When the hand reaches outward from underwater,
It reaches for the sun. There is a man on the sun, who reaches downward, Not to pull you up. Hold your breath, if you choose. He will not wait for you. When you see the sunken city, in the ocean at the end of the street, Then you will see him. The lifeguard will talk to his girlfriend, and watch you drown. He is only human, after all. When the dinosaurs died out, the man was there. He killed them for us. When you read a book, do you start from the end? Do you read to the beginning? When he sweats, or aches, will you write his story? Will you find him important enough? When his house catches fire, and sinks into the ocean, Will you be there to mock him quietly? When your funeral comes, buried beneath the stormy waves, Will you still reach up to grab his hand? Underwater is my new kingdom, an island in the sun. I sit and wait with the man.
#Unreal #Poem #Poetry #Verse #Sun #Story #Fire #Creation #Compassion #HumanError #HumanMistakes #WeAreHuman
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Braids and Rhinestones
By Keith Wallace
QuailBellMagazine.com
Heaven and Earth are like braids and rhinestones.
Interlocking, twisting, gallivanting, glimmering, glistening in the Sun. Two variant strands connected by roots clamoring for love, for touch, to breathe, to evolve, to understand. Heaven and Earth are like braids and rhinestones. One shimmering in the night the other holding tight like a lasso, like a rhinestone cowboy. Two strands Swimming in the sand, connected by grit and glitter. Heaven and Earth are like braids and rhinestones. Oblivious to time yet waiting for the defining moment when planets, stars - the universe align, to sing, dance, and scream for joy, the song of redemption.
#Unreal #Poetry #Imagery #Heaven #Earth #Connection #Flow #Redemption
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Planted
Dear Love, Dear Light…
Why did I choose to take flight? I soared so high, fell so fast. I forgot to plan for the crash. Never wishing to fall to a tamasic state. Forgotten that each fate is simply a temporary state. For the result is simply here or now. We are no longer wishing for the next resolution. Ever observant, the ancient teachings tell me emotions are antiquated, Equanimity is the moment that truth unveils disillusion. Did you disremember that when you are buried under meters of rut, you’ve been planted?
#Unreal #Poetry #Roots #Grounded #Truth #Nature # Growth #Depth
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I Will Not Bend
Clouds dim
Over roughened waters. Thunder rips Through raging winds, But in the midst of chaos I stand on my island-- A lone rock Beaten by the gale. Pride as my staff, I quiver not As the rain begins. Shoulders squared, Hair tangled, Silken robes dampened, I shout into the bedlam. Calm comes. Light streaks through, All lessens to a whisper. Peace reigns On softened shores. #Unreal #Poetry #Imagery #Strength #Resilience #Solitude #Truth 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.
Fool's Gold
By James Penha
QuailBellMagazine.com
what luster i have amassed,
mining silently my soul and the poetry breezing through us, i want to gleam in his eyes, but he picks at the pyrite i have yet to scrape away and at the gilt he hammered onto me flaking aureate atop aureate until i don't know gold for the pain of the burnish. #Unreal #Poetry #Pyrite #Soul #Creation #HumanCondition #Metaphor 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.
Nags Head
Words by Gretchen Gales
Image by Claire LeFew QuailBellMagazine.com Author's Note: For my father, who has guided me through strong currents.
My mother stays
In the beach chair And reads Jeanne Bice’s memoir Pull Yourself Up by Your Bra Straps About the start of the Quacker Factory, Its success on her favorite channel QVC— While, not very materialistic— Unless it had 2 wheels, The words “Harley” and “Davidson” on it— My father guided me In the ocean. I rely on Home Depot And Harley shop gift cards.
#Unreal #Father'sDay #FatherDaughterTime #Vacation #Guidance #Gifts #Beach #Vacation #NagsHead
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