Boxxing Foxxy by Andrew Satterwhite

I have a box.

This box has a fox.

I put a box in a box with a fox.

I have a lock.

This lock is for the box that holds a box with a fox.

I have a key.

This key fits the lock that opens the box in a box that holds one fox.

I see.

The key that fits the lock for the box that holds the box with the one true fox.

I believe.

I eye the key with the lock for the box in a box with a fox for the fox

that wishes to leave.

I sigh.

I’ve lost the key for the lock for the box in a box with a fox,

so she’ll never be free.

I whimper.

Ignoring the lost or the lock or the key or the box in the box with the fox,

the cubes or the rubes, that fox.

Poor as she be.

Trapped in a box in a box with a lock with a key that is lost, she chews and she brews.

She swiped to the left and scratched to the right of the box when that fox in the box in a box with a key that is lost was

sadly held by me.

 

 

Written by Andrew Satterwhite  ©2015

Author Extraordinaire Andrew Satterwhite

 

Discovering Duluoz on SALE now!!! Poetry by D.W Metz

Discovering Duluoz on SALE!!

To learn more about the offer, visit Unknown Poetry.

 

My Fountain of Essence by A. Joleigh

Drink from the fountain of wine that pours from my body. Swim in a sea of memories from the souls of your ancestors. Your appetite for lust spurs my ingenuity. I hunger for more; to feast in the intelligence of old. Bend me to your will and mold me into something of use, according to the Ancients. Do not intoxicate my brilliance, but inhale the mastermind masked by voluptuous breasts and skin of every color. Taste me. Eat my essence. Devour my carnal eccentricities. Dip into the powers I possess. Make love using your words of wisdom. Never stopping. Never concluding; yet hold still, and absorb every bit of me. Roll around in my scent, and drive your imagination to frantic. Wrestle me; paint me; spread open the doors that await you; bow to me; worship me; torture me, consume me.  I am your Aphrodite. I am your Pandora, Hatshepsut, your Isabella 1, your Cixi,–and your means to an end. I am every woman from the past, representing the power behind the reigns of the worlds you know not. Phantom winds knit through your bodies unnoticed; absorbing the souls of the few capable of a higher dimension–unrecognized. Close your eyes and feel me there. Bear witness to my fingers creeping up your spine and into your mind; let the harvesting begin….

 

 

by A. Joleigh

The Fight Within by A. Joleigh

Tears flow, shattering against my cheeks.
Lips spasm from the pain.
Heart ruptures from all the lies.
Nothing else remains..

Aspirations of a Muse by A. Joleigh

You sit alone
Within the shadows of a stage.
Hear me, your muse, sing our song,
That I’ll sing ’til the end of our days.

Pluck the strings of your guitar.
Imagine the instrument’s my form.
Strum each cord to the pounding of my heart.
Invoke words of ecstasy…wanting more.

G+ Profile for the Writer’s Gallery

Dear loyal followers, authors, crazy people, “sane” people, Oompa Loompas, Lollipop Guild…..

I am happy to announce that we have a Google+ profile page that Adrianna is running!!! The page will be there to update everyone interested about our upcoming competitions, and introducing submitted writings by you all. Also, it will be there to share your work from your profiles.

If you wish to have your stories (short or long), poems, or prose posted on our site, please submit to davidandadrianna@yahoo.com.

All of you that were friends with A. Joleigh before, please circle her again. Would you please share this with your circles, too?

LINK: http://goo.gl/ZpBlXe

 

Oh Cry! Beloved Africa by Mbongeni Nyadza (poem)

Shapeless Africa
Shameless Africa
How dare they call you their own?
How dare they label you dark?
How dare they shun you?
Africa they caress you with curses
Engrave you with recurring scars
Soil on your natural beauty
Fail to recognize your beauty
Put on make up to cover your face
Terrified to be identified by your face
Identity crisis!

Africa they masquerade you white
They hide from your tongue
They masturbate in other tongues
They forsake your existence
They put you on exile
For how long will they do that?

Showering presents at your dusty feet
Gifted presents of destruction
Africa you slit the throats of your sons
And you laugh hysterical afterwards
Africa you massacre your heir
Quenching thirsty rivers with floods of blood
Overflowing flooded with corruption you endure
Thirst of hunger
Power hungry
When will the tears end?
Cry oh! beloved Africa

 

Mbongeni Nyadza

To learn more about Mbongeni Nyadza please visit Meet the Writers.

Broken by A. Joleigh

Unity candle, incinerated with passion,
ultimately smothered by sin.
Vengeance of an unyielding tempest,
never to forgive again.

It no longer beats to the rhythm
that they, themselves, once shared.

Writing Craft CUT THE ‘SAID’, SHE SAID by Rayne Hall

Dialogue tags (he said, she asked, he replied) can help the reader understand who’s talking. But when it’s clear who’s talking, you can cut the tag.  This makes your writing tighter and the pacing faster.

 

If the speaker is doing something, the action is enough to attribute the dialogue. Simply put

A Tryst With a Twist by A. Joleigh

The misshapen feckless man picked up a stool, and brought it to the table where she lay. He panted, allowing his shoulders to hang, and his posture to subside. He unbuckled the strap from her forehead, exposing the leather-burns, and removed the gag from her busted mouth.

Her comatose body lay there, tranquil. Her chin fully relaxed, leaving her lips slightly open.

Starting at her hairline, avoiding the bruises, he wound a wavy strand around his forefinger.

The Book Is Here!!

Some of you may remember that I had won first place in a poetry contest in the Darker Times Collection. The anthology is now available!!! To some of you multi-published authors this may seem old school, haha, so excuse my childish glee. Lol. 

 

If you want to buy the anthology where I’ve been published, visit these links below:

Darker Times Volume Two — Kindle Edition (in the UK)

Darker Times Volume Two — Paperback (in the UK)

Darker Times Volume Two — Paperback & Kindle (in the USA) 

 

I have been writing some experimental stories and would like to post them and get all of your opinions and feedback if you like? Not sure if that is something you all would like to get involved in, but let me know. I’m a little rusty since I haven’t shown any of my stories in almost a year now. Ack! I feel like I’m starting all over again.

 

Anyways.. HAPPY WEEKEND!! 🙂

A. Joleigh

 

The Illegitimate Child by Mbongeni Nyadza

Fatherless, motherless hopeless faithless
Born breaded delivered without a birth right
Born with a plastic spoon on the mouth
Denied the ripe fruits of a surname
Outcast ousted out of the family
Bastard banished bullied with abominations
Identified without any traces of identity
Rooted at the buttress roots of the forsaken family tree

Naked Poetry by Bill Dove

Naked poetry

Jocelyn is my name and here is my experience:

How would I forget?
That great movie set,
Under a starred sky,
Glared by a beautiful sunset
Absolute best!

A Poisonous Noise by Mbongeni Nyadza

Trampling trumpeting on my virgin ears

Rearing, tearing, tampering with my pure eardrums

Overloading,overflowing a pool of noise

With echoing voices

Boastingl screening stretching the vacuum of my ears

Belittling my sensitive sense of sound

Writing Craft: TONE YOUR WRITING STYLE: CUT “BEGIN” AND “START” by Rayne Hall

Does your writing style have fat instead of muscle? By leaving out certain words, you can tighten and tone your manuscript.

 

In thirty years as an editor, I’ve found the same fatty words bloat the style of many authors.

 

Here are two notorious phrases: “begin to” and “start to.” They contain empty calories

These Streets by Mbongeni Nyadza

Born breaded on the dreadful dreaded streets

Streets flaunting with a full figure of potholes

Streets flowing sea of milk and honey

Infested by the sirens of the policemen

Flooded with convicts

Embracing scars of guilt without any remorse

****

How To Write Like You Are In Love: Tips For Romance Writers By Dave Goodlove

Have you ever noticed how different you feel and act when you are in love?  The whole world opens up, flowers bloom like the first day of spring after a long winter, and you notice things that have always been there but suddenly appear like they are in technocolor after having watched black-and-white TV your whole life.  Such is the heart inflame with love.  When a romance writer’s characters are in love, the reader absolutely must feel it.  For the reader to live vicariously through our characters, there must be a sense that life for our character in love is completely different in every way.  In some ways, it’s like the difference

The December 2013 Christmas Challenge Winner

Congratulations to Vanessa Wright for winning the Christmas Writer’s Challenge!!!! 

She is a 47 year old visual artist, author, mom and pug breeder. Two of her Afrikaans short

Vanessa Wright

stories have recently been published in My kort vir jou sop available on www.amazon.com as an e-book and soon to be released in soft cover. She has taken part in Nanowromo 2012 and 2013 and reached the target on day 26. She has also published a collection of short stories on Smashwords, titled Twisted. http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/361196. She has her own blog at http://iread1966.wordpress.com, appropriately named Humouring the dark where the muse has captured many readers’ attention and a book about the character is in the offing. She is also active on Facebook and Twitter and is a member of a writing group. She leads her own book club and is a true bookaholic. Writing has always been her passion, however the timing always seemed incorrect as daily life interrupted more frequently than not. Now, she has decided to go big or go home.

Twitter, Facebook

 

Vanessa’s Winning Entry

Sweat was running down his back in rivulets and pooled in his underwear. Christmas in the Southern hemisphere at an awesome 37 degrees, dressed in a red velvet suit, white beard, tasselled hat and black boots. He surveyed the manically shopping populace from his fake golden throne.  The true spirit of Christmas was painted on their faces in garish colours as they rushed to and fro. Santa Claus was his name and boosting sales hisgame.

According to myth the Claus was a fat, white man supposedly living in the North Pole, hence the dress code.  He commanded elves, reindeer and an ever pudgier Mrs Claus. In direct contrast Bongani Shabangu was ebony black, single, lived in a sweltering South

WRITING CRAFT: HOW TO GIVE YOUR NOVEL A GREAT CLIMAX by Rayne Hall

Almost every novel has a climax near the end of the book. This is when all the plot strands come together and the heroine (or hero) faces her greatest challenge. The tension is so high that the reader perches on the edge of her seat, unable to tear herself away from the story’s action.

How Do You Really Forget? (poem) By Mbongeni Nyadza

Haunting me every night Welcoming nightfall with hooting owls,screaming huffing foxes Nightfall tantalizing sleep Each night models a new scream of a nightmare marred with the same name A new chapter of sweat ,soiled with the dirt of the same nightmare Married to turning,tossing,tilting with my dreams Afraid to be intimate with my dreams Terrified to tamper with their lips All night i dine with my nemesis Serving dinner,wine and dessert in a candle lighten room A date made in the heavenly skies A reign of terror trembling on me I forgive my nightmares,but How do you really forget?

Joseph Imperi–Winner of Valentine’s Writer’s Challenge

Congratulations Joseph Imperi !!!!!! You are the winner of the Valentine’s Writer’s Challenge. 

You have won your choice of prizes in which we will discuss in private, along with a painting by A. Joleigh.

 

To find out more about Joseph Imperi, please visit Meet the Winners!!

rybusryo.deviantart.com

To learn more about our upcoming Mardi Gras Writer’s Challenge, click here.

A Cup of Wine by M. A Barr

Through-out time I’ve seen men like you destroyed by this same madness, cross-eyed, weeping, howling to the moon and stars,

scribbling promises they cannot keep, stars they cannot touch, diamonds they cannot buy, and an eternity that they cannot live or even measure,

star-crossed boys who believe they know everything but spout drivel from milk-stained

In Maiden’s Eyes (inspired by A. Joleigh’s photo) by A. Long

In maiden’s eyes, great surprise,
inspiring all, like day’s sunrise!

In maiden’s eyes, I see the world,
All it’s glories, are unfurled.
In maiden’s eyes, I see the light,
All it’s beauty, beaming bright.
In maiden’s eyes, I see the joy,
All it’s laughter, all souls enjoy.

Shadow Dancer by Doug Metz

once walking through the woods

my mind dull and dreary

i paused to rest beside an oak

and lay my spirit weary

the orb of light hanging low

having all but given up

A Beautiful Procession by Sam Collett

A divine beauty, sent from above

Her eyes shining like stars
I could not help but lose myself in them
Silky hair cascading down her shoulders
Flowing like a magnificent waterfall

She smiled, sweet velvety lips

Memories of Love by Matt Ewens

Delicately touching her image locked in time,
A whispered voice, ‘darling you were once mine’,
Swallowing tears and reliving distant fears,
His head bows to remember those years.

Her sparkling eyes, once so full of love,
Beautifully enigmatic, like angels above,
Her sunshine smile and wispy golden hair,

Really?! Seriously?! by Joseph Imperi

Really?!?!?!?! Seriously?!?!?!?!

You were always my best friend first
There is really no excuse
Your love is what I thirst
Oh really what’s the use

You were given all I could give
I asked for only love in return
What I offered was a chance to live
Instead I am alone and need to learn

Now I know It’s over
I can read between the lines
So much for the four leaf clover
You have given me all the signs

A wish is a wish
And I guess it just never took
My foolish heart, like a foolish fish

Love Revealed by Jeffery Brand

I come to you naked,
Vulnerable,
My dreams and fears
Resting on the surface of
My existence…
I’m awash in an ocean of insecurities…
Capsized in life’s waters,
I reach for you;
Struggling against the undertow,
Swimming feverishly towards your
Safe harbor…
Perhaps
I’m unjust in bestowing a moniker
Of savior upon you,
As you’re human and far from
Godly,
But your love
Is an unfamiliar salvation

A Shrubbery by Sheikha A.

The night growing into day is the way of the universe;
I wait, in this longing, for the permanence of the moon.

These ghost nights have possessed the ambience again
causing my being to rattle clueless in addiction, my eyes
carry dark bags of memories that do not escape by tears
or words to release me from the clogs of bellowing aches
reverberating in my shrunken veins withered of waiting
and wanting the glass to now appear as full empty.

Stolen Moments By M.A. Kastle

We steal away by moonlight.
Its shadows dancing between us, caught in the silver light we disappear.
Our eyes lock, forever this moment will stay.
A song plays softly while glasses clink with cheer.
Wine pours, laughter carries on the wind, masking our fear.