musician Archives - Spillwords

The Twilight Lounge

Larry D TylerJune 8, 2019

The Twilight Lounge written by: Larry D Tyler It seems like it was just yesterday when I sat behind that old piano in the dim lit, smoke-filled Twil...

EnglishLiterature3 min read

Unexpected Presence On Christmas Eve

JazzcatDecember 24, 2018

Unexpected Presence On Christmas Eve written by: Catherine Lee How do you date the onset of union? A first kiss wetting on West Paterson NJ jaz...

ChristmasEnglishPoetry1 min read

Blue Note Souls

Ron KemptonDecember 2, 2018

Blue Note Souls written by: Ron Kempton I’ve come a long way with the help of God. He lives out on Rout 61, somewhere between Memphis and Clarksdale...

EnglishFeatured PostLiterature36 min read

Feel The Music

Paul Anthony ObeyNovember 3, 2018

Feel The Music written by: Paul Anthony Obey @TheInvisiblePo1 Child prodigy unseeing, Lived unfairness of age, Still performing with feeling, Writ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

For Doug Kershaw

Patricia Quintana BidarSeptember 4, 2018

For Doug Kershaw written by: Patricia Quintana Bidar @patriciabidar He came up on a swamp island houseboat, feet gripping the decks. When it c...

EnglishLiterature0 min read

Dear You

Daisy KingAugust 3, 2018

Dear You written by: Daisy King @stormsinteacups The musician hides behind the microphone. An admission of shyness or sleepless and he was the bi...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Acts 1, 2, 3…

Genie NakanoJune 20, 2018

Acts 1, 2, 3… written by: Genie Nakano @genieyogini If I were to write a play about my life it would be a comedy of errors Those musicians…w...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Once Upon A Sunset Strip

John Patrick RobbinsMarch 21, 2018

Once Upon A Sunset Strip written by: John Patrick Robbins I went to the Rainbow after I heard you had passed. I half expected to see you at the end...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Magical Dylan

Mario William VitaleMarch 16, 2018

Magical Dylan written by: Mario William Vitale From a song formed on a string let the freedom ring Something blowing in the wind with an explosion of...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

White Silk And Whispers

Ken Allan DronsfieldMarch 2, 2018

White Silk and Whispers written by: Ken Allan Dronsfield @KenKadfield Lazy mists envelop this land scarlet sky with a serene azure working fields o...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Farewell Hugh

Aurora KastaniasJanuary 31, 2018

Farewell Hugh written by: Aurora Kastanias Dedicated to Hugh Masekela Grazin’ in the grass was mellow indeed when you blew into your trumpet...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

JOEY ALEXANDER (More Than A Child Genius)

Norberto Franco CisnerosJanuary 31, 2018

JOEY ALEXANDER (More Than A Child Genius) written by: Norberto Franco Cisneros He plays jazz as if he had invented it Arpeggios augmented, minored...

EnglishPoetry2 min read

The Lutist

TM ArkoJanuary 10, 2018

The Lutist written by: TM Arko Silent, illusive lonely minstrel, his soul held close to breast. Striking chords mellow stillness, a tune the though...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

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Phyllis P. Colucci is a freelance/indie author from Brooklyn, New York. She is currently retired from a Supervisory Administrative position with a Federal law enforcement agency in New York City, and is now pursuing her passion for writing fiction and poetry. She has always had a love for writing over the years, whether it be poetry, short stories or novels; and mystery and suspense is something she has recently gravitated towards with a touch of romance and that "New York edge". Phyllis has three novels, one novella and an Anthology of original poems currently on the Amazon market, and continues to be part of the Spillwords writing community by sharing/contributing her fiction and poetry on a monthly basis. She also has a writing blog under the name of "FictionTarot" where she hopes to entertain readers, take them on journeys page by page - and perhaps make a difference with a blog.

Bodies In The Basement by M. Taggart

It was a crisp, damp, October night.
“When we get to the Church I’ll go down first.” Colin was thinking of the moment when both he and Aaron would be standing at the top of the basement stairs peering down into the darkness.
The old stone Church was perched at the top of the largest hill on the prep school’s campus. Colin’s parents were professors at the school and their house was on campus grounds. They’d been waiting for Colin’s parents to fall asleep upstairs. Both boys were comfortable in their sleeping bags on the screened in porch. The lights had been turned out an hour ago and Colin felt it was time to slip into the night ...