Because January has a bad reputation
Let us Not say good bye this month.
While Autumn leaves still cushion our foot fall
And bare wooden hands beseech the sky
And great weighty tears of rain
Soak us together
And paths swell to streams
And lanes to rivers
And the sky makes a leaden door
We cannot open or shut.
When I care not one jot whether the wall we lean against
Holds us up or lets us down
Dripping all the way through us
Walking at a flash flood pace
Talking at a downfall volume
Back to the soggy hugs & steamy car
Of Wooded Lanes
Wringing out unwaterproof clothes
driving home half dressed
Under the weather,
Together stretching as we part.
While the silvered birches reveal themselves
Over the wound red whips of dogwood over
The deep green ivy, the glossy green holly
While we can still keep each other warm-
Let us not say goodbye in January.
is a trans-Atlantic yoyo, US military baby born in Norfolk, made in Manchester, U.K. Currently a freshly retired drama teacher, Pippi Longstocking like she lives with animals and spends spare hours free ranging with her dogson Louis-the-lurcher, who walks with her in the wild 'turnupstuffing' and marveling at all of life; Sassi-the-cat regularly tries to join them.
Still personal and political, she has been writing and performing since 1981, and in Playback Theatre Manchester twenty-three years. She has been published in a number of anthologies: Beyond Paradise, The West in Her eyes, Cahoots, Urban Poetry, Nailing the Colours, Manchester Poets Volume3, Raindog, Grapple Annual, Prong & Posy.
The Boy and the Blue Tricycle
The boy in the gray shorts sits on the brick stairs above the blue tricycle. It’s the only thing of value he owns. His legs are as spindly as that of a newborn foal. The boy spends his days alone, taking things apart and putting them together again.
There is no one to teach the boy how to ride a two wheeler so he rides his tricycle longer than he should. The boy dreams that his tricycle will take him places. He flips the trike on its side and, like a bus driver, spins the rear wheel until the rubber tire turns his palms gray.
is a Massachusetts writer who has worked both as a journalist and teacher of at risk youth. He has spent 22 years going to the Wildacres Writers Conference in North Carolina. He has worked on novels and only recently has learned the art of flash fiction. So far the experiment is going well.
Below The Surface - The Truth Lies
One unusually warm July afternoon in East Hampton, I was reminded that we never know what truth lies below the surface.
“Momma, did you get divorced because you stopped loving dad?” asked my eleven year-old daughter.
I thought for a moment. What could I say and be honest? Should I talk about the day-to-day suffocating feeling I tried to suppress, because I didn’t like the person I became? Should I take the easy route and mention the affair with the nanny?
“I never stopped loving your dad. We just stopped being good partners.”
“Momma, are you going to stop loving me someday?” says a carbon-copy brown haired, brown eyed, dimpled version of me.
is a social entrepreneur best known for her role in the formation of XOOM, where she was a founding shareholder. After participating in multiple public and private financing totaling almost $400M pre IPO, XOOM merged with GE’s NBC Internet assets, resulting in the formation of NBC Internet, the first global integrated media company. After many lives, Ms. Roberts decided to find her voice in a lifelong passion – writing. An orphan herself, she is most passionate about being a mom, pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing, and helping orphans who have aged out of foster care find their voices through higher education. Ms. Roberts currently resides in historic Bastrop, Texas a community in the best sense of the word.