Paige of a book, brings Life to a page

Remembering that motorcyclist without a helmet, you know the man that died. We sat in traffic for two hours trying to get to your appointment with the cancer doctor before we passed by the body, we were late. It, he was under the white sheet with its growing spot of wet blood, a bright red puddle and pale pink brains strewn across the highway. Shivers and instant sorrow, guilt and then the gladness that I hadn’t actually seen the accident and yes gladness that you sat beside me at that moment an… Continue

UPDATED 4-13-09 ... Brian of The New Author has stopped, suspended, halted all voting in the First Annual Poetry / Short Story Contest. It seems that the poll may have been tampered with and he has therefore acquired anonymous judges to take over in lieu of pier voting for the best Short Story and Poem. The decision is still expected to come in sometime on Friday.

It is a shame that even suspecting unscrupulous behavior has marred his first contest. I hope the alleged possibility of tampering t… Continue

My poem ‘If I Were’ has been selected as a finalist in the New Author Blog’s contest. If you can find a minute PLEASE pop over there and check out the offerings and vote* for your choice. I hope I’m your choice. My piece can be found shown in the April 8 post titled “If I Were”

{jumping up & down—hands waving in air---pick me pick me}

After reading all the poems and short stories you will be able to cast your vote* by way of a “Poll” in the… Continue

Today is the first day of the rest of April and National Poetry Month; wherein all persons, both living and dead I suppose, are invited to write a poem a day (PAD) or to read a poem every day. But you all know me too well, I think, to believe that I would post one every day. And as you know I have committed myself to write a poem a day this entire year of 2009 and thus far am pretty much on schedule, with the help of some of the~~sick~~ prompts provided by you for my jar. I have missed a few day… Continue

The sprinkler snaps into action, ssh-sshushing as screams of joy fill the hot air. Four children run through, around and under the falling water. Rainbow reflections in its mist decorate the baby blue and lilac scented sky. She could see their pink skin and freckles from the kitchen window. They each in turn looked her way to smile, wave and then continue in their playful carefree dance of youth. The old woman could see it as if it were happening right now in this instance in this very heartbeat… Continue