Poem

Poem There once lived a young boy named Poem, who didn’t quite know how to rhyme, who fancied the fields and the flowers, his mom felt he’d sing of in time. Young Poem liked rowing and painting, and took well to Latin and Greek, Yet, for all that he grew, both in mind and in…

The Tail of a Tale

They say that golden stories stem from treasures long forgot, or grow from tales as big as whales that scarcely hold a plot. But like all stories, bland and bold, each poet has their root- a source from which they pulled their page to turn their cherished loot. As it so happens, many creatures stirred…

For Where I Am

For those I have met on my journey, whose path pointed back into mine, by gestures and jots sewn to thousands of thoughts, of this, it has been His design. For the seasons both hopeful and lonesome, of the months bearing titles like ‘May’, with each day forming showers in drought-ridden lands when dew drops,…

Riddle 1:

As sharp as it is often dull As weak as it is strong As handy as is harmful While as short as it is long What am I? Answer: Nail – Riddle by Amy Struthers Image by Debora Rousse

Portrait

From the ground we lap the springs, that feed our vein and fade our wings and drip into a dust we sweep, as held by time in stills we keep. -Amy Struthers Image by Nathaniel Chang

If Words Were a Waltz

If words were a waltz on a page of this stage, men might linger on language, and languish the age as each tip of the heel, with each click of the tongue, renders syllables spoken or broken, as sung. Where each note is a blot bleeding thoughts into strings, when the spots we call words…

The Night Train

The Night Train All children’s ears fall on the pulse of the night train’s shiftless hum, never knowing where it’s going, or in turn, is coming from. Every year, its starlight travels low, as to not disturb the night, whose perfect moon, beyond the trees, is turning hills to white. A quiet steam sifts through…

Untitled

Based on ‘The Millinery Shop’ by Edgar Degas. Grace in the folds that she fixes- dignified modest… and bold- shifting her shift, in the storeroom, she drifts perfectly poised in the cold- There’s a warmth to the textures she touches- there’s a depth to the dip of her hand when, in humming the beats widows…

A Longing Fulfilled

And God so spoke a miracle that answered every prayer, to show me of His mercy molding tender loving care. For over sixteen seasons, I waited for a sign that came in but a gesture mild, but ever so divine. And God so spoke a miracle that healed a broken heart which gave the mind…