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slowly, barely touching, warm breath over flesh.
His prolonging became unbearable,
her will weakening, her resolve diminishing.
Slowly, shyly, she opened herself a fraction to him.
He leaned in gently, caring, considerate at first,
not wanting to alarm or frighten, this her first time.
Then he became more insistent, more passionate.
She returned his ardor as he slipped in further,
wrestling together, slipping and sliding,
unrelenting, until she could stand no more.
I’m angry at my thoughts and all my self-doubt
I’m angry at the people who doubted me, too
But that’s a tiny flame, it can barely reach through
The tunnels and chasms I’ve built around me
But it’s burning, I feel it, and I’m hopeful you’ll see
It well overboard in a simple, brave act
And I would be free
And there’d be no regret
A brilliant star that wrote his name
O’er constellations bright
Led restive men to seek his fame
And gather in his light
And come they did on sacred space
To learn a sacred theme
For what was writ upon his face
Fulfilled their sacred dream
If you’re a gifted poet or nonfiction writer living in the state of New York, enter the 2016-2017 poetry grant by the New York Foundation for the Arts (NYFA).
This poetry contest is free to enter and you may win cash prizes.
About the New York Foundation for Arts
For the past 31 years, NYFA has been supporting artists from diverse cultural backgrounds at all stages of their professional careers. Each year, NYFA provides over $650,000 in cash grants to individuals pursuing artistic excellence in all forms, as well as a variety of artist-in-residence opportunities.
NYSCA/NYFA Artist Fellowships are
a fire-fall of glass and ash
the room is filled with soot and smoke
my thorax burns I gasp and choke
I can’t escape it’s all around
I try to scream but there’s no sound
the red-gold flames creep everywhere
and my eyes open
but
there’s nothing there
over sips of Chianti
in sunlight shadows
and he believes her
silver lined promises
He closes his eyes
wanting her words
to be true, yet he knew
she was only
being true to herself
Best-Selling Indie author Helen Harper talks about her writing career, her self-publishing secrets and how she started writing her series of Urban Fantasy books.
for if he did not love me,
I would not have been where I am today.
He loves me every second of my life,
He cares for, he watches over me,
He guides me from evil,
and protects me from danger,
My Lord truly loves me and I know it.
long, grey spirals of dusk
skirr in.
The moon hangs
out of its socket,
dripping.
The lovers don´t touch,
final lies freeze their breath,
a brittle, vertical icicle.
he calls out yet you pull the trigger regardlessly.
What bothers you more is his skin,
not how you live heartlessly.
Don’t shoot,
she cries out knowing her precious child did nothing wrong.
Now you can add him to the list of
lives prematurely gone.
