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Locust Hill: Chapter 11-1 by Carl Parsons at Spillwords.com

Locust Hill: Chapter XI-I

Carl Parsons·March 5, 2023

Locust Hill Chapter XI (Part I) Crisis written by: Carl Parsons 11.1 When autumn comes to Locust...

Featured Post Carl Parsons Literature Locust Hill English

·27 mins read

Cat’s Cradle Weaving

Leslie Cairns·January 31, 2023

Cat’s Cradle Weaving written by: Leslie Cairns @starbucksgirly Weather is not trivial – it’s especially important when...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Sugar Moon

Carrie Magness Radna·June 30, 2022

Sugar Moon written by: Carrie Magness Radna @cmrboxwoodstar1 All the new lines conceived, I must dig in...

Poetry English

·1 min read

This Frost Upon Me

Richard M. Ankers·June 22, 2022

This Frost Upon Me written by: Richard M. Ankers @Richard_Ankers It begins at my fingertips, a whitening,...

English Literature

·2 mins read

The Ice Dragon

David Wagoner·February 27, 2022

The Ice Dragon written by: David Wagoner An ice dragon sleeping on snowy peaks, Nestled cozy in...

English Poetry

·1 min read

Harbinger of Winter

Ken Allan Dronsfield·January 19, 2021

Harbinger of Winter written by: Ken Allan Dronsfield @KenKadfield While I sat beside a snow shovel and...

English Poetry

·1 min read

Mike is a deaf writer/photographer living in rural southwest Colorado. His love of nature shines through his poetry and photography, both of which he uses to make sense of his world. His work has been featured at Spillwords Press, several Masticadores literary sites, and in two books: After Rain Skies: The Global Anthology (Michelle Ayon Navajas, curator) and Tale of the Seasons' Weaver (Diana Wallace Peach, author). He's a Pushcart Prize nominee and has garnered awards for Publication of the Month and Author of the Month at Spillwords Press. Much of Mike's work deals with dark themes and he's not afraid to explore the depths of trauma, sorrow, loss, and despair. Mike's blog is Silent Pariah.

The Forest by Maggie Watson

Like a tree, she has watched many seasons change.
While nature adapts as if oblivious to pain,
her roots now crimson twist with stored emotions.
The rain never cleanses or purifies the leaves.
They only change colour from brown to green.
From the shadows, she must fight to cleave her way back
to the light.
Optical illusions have waylaid her path.
Wasted time has stunted her growth.
An empath absorbs it all until they bleed.
This canopy of suffering is not hers to carry...

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blizzard

Locust Hill: Chapter XI-I

Cat’s Cradle Weaving

Sugar Moon

This Frost Upon Me

The Ice Dragon

Harbinger of Winter

Pranay Yog

The Hardest Thing

Spotted Lanternfly

Interview Q&A With Michael L. Utley

Old Friends and Strangers

Whose Report Will You Believe?

Magenta Madness

The Gin River

Little Red Riding Hood

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I Am Her Mother