15th of November – Season 3 "Juan, where are we going?" Juan can Zonder looked at his companion The eighteen-year-old Teresa Koek had a worried look on her face but he knew that there was an excitement building in her as he led her up the mountain. "You'l...
The morning is cold. My heart left empty, yet still full of love, so full of love for you. I sit here now alone, with my heart in pain, yet so full of love for you. My fingers tremble and wrap the only thing I feel, this cold cup of coffee, and a heart fu...
It began at sunrise On that Cretan Isle Playful seductive glances From the very first moment By sunset I was caught forever In the weave of your silken net My wild, gorgeous temptress Captured by mischievous eyes Deep sumptuous pools That reeled me in a...
Dear Reader, Nobody believed our story. But the events I relate to you below really happened. It may seem fantastic, but they do say that truth is always stranger than fiction. You can make up your own mind — I only want to set the record straight before...
One, two, three, When I close my eyes, it's you I see A smile that warms my heart I wish you to be my fresh start One, two, three When I'm alone, I think of thee The sweetness of your laughA future, I hope we craft One, two, threeLet us lay beneath a peac...
She calls me her laureate in my dreamsAlthough distant, I feel her pulseAs I whisper a prayer of evergreensWith a tear dripping from the candlelightLike a star of emerald from her beautiful eyesGlowing like a halo of harps and strings.She calls me her lau...
I don’t know when I lost her. She held on as long as she could. I was aloof. Careless. I loved her. I just never showed her how much. Now I can’t. She has flown away forever. I saw caterpillars. She saw butterflies.
Whispering, it was the age of reasoning, but who was I deceivingAlone without a prayer, a hymnal, or song to singAs I stumbled to the microwave to heat last night's coffeeOn this Monday morning before the dawn falls the dew I'd been a fool with my profane...
With the heart of darkness, my vaccine a soft touch of gossamer wingsof a silent cello stringslike fingers of my midnight hostusing Montessori for love from my poetry's tureen with the heart of darkness, my vaccine.
With a long breath goodbyeroses of forget-me-notssweet for fingertipscounting the petalsof ivory keyslistening to Gershwin'sRhapsody in Bluepainting the midnight skywith a long breath goodbye...
“Boy oh boy, it’s a hot one,” my wife exclaimed as she gave the sweating pitcher one last swirl before pouring each of us a glass. Exhausted and relieved, I sipped my iced tea while slowly rocking in the hammock of our screened porch. I savored my reward...
I was flicking through sites on my phone while enjoying my morning coffee when I read an advertisement for a writing competition. To be eligible you were required to write a story of between one and five thousand words about a situation where you survived...
Just dusty objects in a box, just traces of love affairs, of friendships long gone and whispers in bedrooms. Just a house standing alone, bearing witness through time. Just our memories in the air, some words echoing softly in the dark tunnels of the mind...
Eden. The word doesn’t need adornment, it just evokes the image of paradise. Except, it doesn’t in my case. Though not by any means hell, my Eden wasn’t the paradise you should find yourself praying for. For you see, my Eden was, and maybe always will be,...
July’s midsummer heat stuck. It stuck to the blades of grass. It stuck to Sumire’s beige romper. It stuck to everything and anything like a sweltering bog. Sweat drenched her underarms as she set up her easel and foldable chair. Even at her elevated vanta...
