I walk into my bar after three months of hiring a bar manager online and a long telephone interview with the Aussie, Bernie , as he told me of his glowing resume' and his long diatribe to commitment and intergrity.
He had never seen me, so I decided to go to the end of the long bar and observe as he tended my crowded flock of customers one Saturday night.
I noticed when a tenner was offered he slipped it into his pocket and put a fiver into the till and when a twenty came… Continue
Added by Edward Dean on September 30, 2009 at 11:30pm —
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhchuuuuuuu!” continued the tour guide as she struggled to comment on the sights our bus was passing. The double decker busses all seemed to be belching huge, black clouds. “To the left, ladies and gentlemen, you see the Tower of London, where the well got sick, and the sick died.” “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhchuuuuuu!” agreed several tourists in the lower and upper sections of the bus. “Where are we driving now?” asked a passenger from the upper section of the bus. “We’re driving to St.… Continue
Added by Mary Mills on September 30, 2009 at 11:30pm —
Bob walks into a bar of a hotel that is hosting a Writers Convention and he noticed a comely female in gold lame' heels that slid up to a welled turned ankle and a welcoming face as he pulled the well worn barstool next to her she slid her glasses off and flipped her hair in his direction.
As a man of the world Bobs words were quick and direct and she offered the simple name of Q,the writer, which peeked his intrerst as he proposed a question to her, as a woman and a writer, what… Continue
Added by Edward Dean on September 30, 2009 at 11:00pm —
Martha ran fast and hard away from the crowd. Her heart raced, and her mind whirled in a kaleidoscope of thoughts. She wasn’t sure that she’d done the right thing. Behind her voices chanted, “Justice must be served,” and, ”the racist pig must die!” Someone yell, “He’ll pay for what he did, and then we’ll select another.” Now far away from the crowd, Martha slowed her pace and heard the wind whisper, “Praise the child who tells the truth. For it is you, who’ll set your people free.”
Added by Bev Goodman on September 30, 2009 at 9:40pm —
1. A porcupine with a sheep
2. A chicken with a unicorn
3. A gorilla with a leopard
4. A cobra with a firefly
5. A dragon with a collie
6. A monkey with a bat
1. An animal that knits its own sweaters
2. A chickicorn that lays dunce-capped eggs
3. A beast that eats spotted bananas
4. An animal that lights up, puffs, and strikes
5. A hotdog
6. An… Continue
Added by Salvatore Buttaci on September 30, 2009 at 9:00pm —
Happy Birthday, Honey
Quite the surprise party.
Added by Michael Solender on September 30, 2009 at 8:30pm —
Disassembling the body was elementary, even arbitrary. Each chiseled piece and shard disappeared as it lost its usefulness, but then there was the head, the beautiful and exotic head. The neck wasn’t important and so easily discarded, then the chin, carved off like a turkey breast, without a thought until I got to the lips, so full, sensuous, and silent. To cut them would be like defacing the Mona Lisa, but how far above them should I begin cutting again? I don’t want to stop his words; I want… Continue
Added by Ryn Cricket on September 30, 2009 at 7:15pm —
October: leaves still clinging, but deep down they know the battle is lost.
October: Sun fleeing southward, taking the birds with it.
October: night gaining a stranglehold on the day, you can hear it calling, 'You're going down man.'
October: Orion climbing up the evening sky, the hunter is home from the hill and beware those who are hungered by winter, just over the horizon.
October: coming in like a lamb .. but the lion is out there… Continue
Added by Bob Clay on September 30, 2009 at 6:21pm —
There was once a boy called John who, being born to a poor woman whose husband died young, sent her son out to make his fortune before he was barely grown. Now it was the way of John to suffer ill fortune, as you might have guessed, and so the first person he chanced to meet upon the road was a practitioner of the dark arts. "Sir, I am out to make my fortune in the world," said John to the man, "will you help me?" "Surely I will," said the man, and right there turned poor John into a… Continue
Added by Barry Northern on September 30, 2009 at 5:19pm —
: it’s more than stealing other writers’ words — it’s an abduction of their children.
Writers’ stories and poems are special works created from their heart, their strengths and weaknesses…from places in the soul where love, fear, and anger are born and the mental, emotional, and sometimes even physical exertion it takes to craft these personal compositions is nothing short of a spiritual evolution.
Writers’ creations can become distinct entities of profound… Continue
Added by Erin Cole on September 30, 2009 at 4:00pm —
We were not twins.
We only looked alike, talked alike, had the same birthday, and dressed alike since we were 2 and 1. At 16 and 15, my mom had to bring our birth certificates to the DMV to prove that only one of us was getting our driver’s license. At 19 and 18 the birthmark on my chest proved I wasn’t the one who had raped our RA at the University. At 26 and 25 when I visited my brother in prison, I had to hum a special song in the ear of my three-year-old, so he would let my brother’s… Continue
Added by Norman Ublies on September 30, 2009 at 1:23pm —
There are many ways to show and measure strength. For instance, weights on a bar can be added together producing a number that will be bragged about later. Holding onto an irritated bull as it tries to free itself from the unwanted rider on their back. A caged arena can prevent retreat during an all out bar brawl between two fighter. These feats are worthy of plaques and gold statues, or even the occasional monetary reward, but they can't compare to a true test. The ability to hold together as… Continue
Added by Erick Ian Gael on September 30, 2009 at 1:00pm —
Deep within the Mall’s Barnes & Noble Box. In the corner dubbed Starbucks. Panning through the droning monologue you regard as conversation. I caught your phrase “Could never sleep with him, not with teeth like those.” By the time I could conjure up a vampire joke. Our conversation has flowed on.
Another vagrant from the floating worlds of fifty word fiction
forgive please the lumpy punctuation as this wee blink has… Continue
Added by Doug Mathewson on September 30, 2009 at 9:00am —
'You know I really don't understand why it keeps happening to us? I mean I don't get it, are we choosing wrong persons or are we the wrong ones here?' Angela asked Ron as she rested her head on his shoulder with sadness enveloping both their auras.
'Maybe, its just not meant to be....maybe we are destined to die alone.' He wanted to see a smile on Angela's face and so he cracked up this sad joke which made them both smile for some… Continue
Added by Smriti on September 30, 2009 at 4:04am —
He's never sat in front of a computer, never watches the news, likes Patsy Cline's music, and has never read a book on parenting.
His boys aren't even really his, and yet, somehow, he taught me more about parenting than anyone besides my own parents.
His oldest son called home and made his mama cry, so daddy took the phone and said, "Sam, what have you done now?"
Sam explained how he got his tongued pierced and how he understood that this might distress his… Continue
Added by Cita on September 30, 2009 at 12:30am —
“No, no, no,” Victor said, “You only know half the story, and you're jumping on your favorite target. Since when did voicing a strong, well-articulated opinion become a crime?”
“Nobody likes a constant diet of piss and vinegar, even if it does contain the truth,” Mary replied, as if to close the discussion, but Vic wanted clarification.
“Are you saying you'd rather be entertained by pornography, or half-baked philosphizing under the guise of art rather than admit someone's a fraud… Continue
Added by Michael Brown on September 30, 2009 at 12:00am —
I am hardly through the office door before Ellen and George arrive, to complain that I have not added any more “situations” to their story including, Ellen wants to be a Buddhist.
Then Beano slides into the room and right away I feel guilty because I like Beano for his gopher attitude, so unafraid to chase down people who owe him money and demand his rights without rancour or anger and besides he is a struggling writer and in him I see a reflection of myself.
But then who… Continue
Added by Peter McNiff on September 30, 2009 at 12:00am —
Being that this is the 6S social network and experimental side of the site and being that I haven't posted a prose poem in a short while, I'd say this is the perfect time to post something that we all know about. It's about that time of night from when our heads hit the pillow until we realize it's morning. We've all been there. Enjoy.
Nothing safe comes after midnight.
At least that's how
Added by Anthony Venutolo on September 29, 2009 at 11:54pm —
The path of an artist is, indeed, a lonely one, fraught with angst, turmoil, personal trauma, and other kinds of stuff. We toil, we suffer, we love, and we pour every fiber of our beings into that which we long to become. And, in the end, it's what we give to one another--those gifts of words that we hold and cherish--that forms the construct of our fellowship. Few around us understand our struggles, and even fewer, still, support our endeavors. Yet we endure, and we survive.
And we… Continue
Added by Frank Picasso on September 29, 2009 at 11:24pm —
"Death becomes her" I hear my friends and enemies alike, one group because they know I love the color black and I still look magnificent, the other because I'm finally out of their lives.
I look down on myself and have to agree, Death does become me, all dressed up in ebony head to toe, a vision of a vampire at last, my daughter has added ostrich feathers to my hair, black and white (smart idea kiddo) against a backdrop of satin so white it burns the eyes.
One of the… Continue
Added by alisa rynay haller on September 29, 2009 at 9:48pm —