Tag: Character Sketch

Lost Years

A woman holds my hand. I’ve never seen her before but she’s showing me a photograph of a handsome young couple standing in front of a blue Cadillac and now she’s started crying. She keeps asking if I remember him, in the faded photograph,… Continue Reading “Lost Years”

The Higher Call

He dips his pen into the inkwell. Lifts it carefully, tapping it gently on the edge of the jar before moving back to his paper. His fingertips, forever stained with the heavy black ink, never hesitate. Not a moment passes where there aren’t thoughts… Continue Reading “The Higher Call”

Sometimes Life Does

Ray-ray always took extra care when preparing to meet Danny. She used to primp and preen, addressing each curl with precision and care. The dark dreads would stand straight out if she let them. But Danny was worth it. She would apply the hair… Continue Reading “Sometimes Life Does”

Notes from a Dying Woman

Tossed and turningI am worn out, wrung outLike a dirty dishrag done its workThe beauty of youth, fadedThe wisdom of time, unreachableA tear on the cheek, wastedReplaced by liars and outward appearances Love whispered from the corner of lipsAt convenient moments in the darkLove… Continue Reading “Notes from a Dying Woman”

Thoughts on a Windy November Afternoon

For nineteen years, I was beat and belittled into quiet submission. I was trained to understand I would never measure up. I laughed too loud, I talked too much, I read the wrong things, I didn’t fit in, I didn’t understand my peers. I… Continue Reading “Thoughts on a Windy November Afternoon”

So Small for a Love So Large

When I held him in my arms, he was so small. So small. I cried oh god how I cried. I asked, is there anything we can do? The doctor said, I’m sorry no, he’s just too small. I cried harder. Please, I’ll do… Continue Reading “So Small for a Love So Large”

Cathedral

Her heart is a cathedral. Bright stain-glassed windows, each a story to tell. So her own story is mapped out in ink across her breast. The entrance, tall imposing doors, not easily opened with gargoyles guarding each side, lips raised in stark, snarling warning.… Continue Reading “Cathedral”

Little Red

running along dark twisting paths she dare not glance behind her she knows it is fangs and drool and glowing eyes that haunt her she trips but regains her balance keeps running, keeps running her skin damp with fear unwashed hair covers her eyes… Continue Reading “Little Red”

Robert Charboneau.

Writer and Artist

living document

a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind

Anonymously Hal

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FRANKENSKIES

The Lies in the Skies Exposed

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"When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am..." --Maya Angelou

The Tigress Awakens

Welcome to my tiny corner of the universe filled with poems that I have written.

ED A. MURRAY

Author | Freelance Writer | Blogger

singlemomlife

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Butterwell's Blog

my life as a piece of string

... from a silent space

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Kelly Huntson

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