past Archives - Spillwords

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Childhood Christmas Memories

Robin McNamara·December 18, 2019

Childhood Christmas Memories written by: Robin McNamara @thewindingroad1 Set adrift on memories of you Childhood Christmas Excitement...

Christmas English Poetry

·1 min read

Our Summit

Cary Chrysler (skyinthegrass)·December 10, 2019

Our Summit written by: Cary Chrysler (skyinthegrass) @skyinthegrass What other life, do we share? Or lives, or...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Two Bedrooms Out The Back

Peter Farrar·December 8, 2019

Two Bedrooms Out The Back written by: Peter Farrar It was the smell I noticed. It arrived...

English Featured Post Literature

·9 mins read

Language of Woods

Susi Bocks·December 3, 2019

Language of Woods written by: Susi Bocks @susibocks One concrete block aligned to the next and the...

Poetry English

·2 mins read

Grilled Cheese Hold The Memory

Judge Burdon·November 22, 2019

Grilled Cheese Hold The Memory written by: Judge Burdon If I only knew what you were thinking...

English Poetry

·1 min read

Twelve Songs

Louis Gallo·November 20, 2019

Twelve Songs written by: Louis Gallo I In 1898 my great-grandfather Jakob scribbled music onto the vellum...

Poetry English

·2 mins read

Echo…

Gosha Kulisiewicz·November 17, 2019

English International Poetry Polish

·1 min read

The Candy Store On Queens Boulevard

Anita G. Gorman·November 8, 2019

The Candy Store On Queens Boulevard written by: Anita G. Gorman @aggorman In the 1940s on Queens...

English Literature

·2 mins read

Please Forgive Us

Don Knowles·October 26, 2019

Please Forgive Us written by: Don Knowles @DonKnowles3 Please forgive us There in the future If you’re...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Writing For The Mentally Disturbed 101.2

RayFed·October 18, 2019

Writing For The Mentally Disturbed 101.2 written by: RayFed @MrRayFed There are three types of people in...

Literature English

·2 mins read

Blue Plastic Pool

Kelli J Gavin·October 16, 2019

Blue Plastic Pool written by: Kelli J Gavin @KelliJGavin My mother sat for hours in the front...

English Poetry

·1 min read

Photographs

Tylia Flores·October 16, 2019

Photographs written by: Tylia Flores @stompingoncp1 So caught up in my own mind, I could barely catch...

English Poetry

·1 min read

Echoes From The Grave

Olusegun M. Lawal·September 30, 2019

Echoes From The Grave written by: Olusegun M. Lawal Listen gently my lovely flower For I deem...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Riding Shotgun

Roger Turner·September 28, 2019

Riding Shotgun written by: Roger Turner @titansdad I remember riding shotgun between my ma and pa mom...

Poetry English

·2 mins read

After a long career tinkering in telecommunications, Jim Bartlett switched to tinkering with writing fiction, both requiring a stretch of the imagination. In the course of putting his fingers to the keyboard, he's been fortunate to have quite a number of his stories featured both in print and online in several wonderful publications, including a story selected for "The Best of Fiction on the Web, 1996 – 2017" anthology. While mentally he strolls along a warm California beach with his wife and golden retriever (shhh, she doesn't know she's a dog), physically they reside on a special little island in the Pacific Northwest.

Reaper by Sharon Frame Gay

As an orphaned son of an orphan, I always see the glass as half empty. I picture the water murky and lukewarm, a waterline etched below the rim. Maybe with an ash or two floating at the bottom, because that’s what I do for a living. I deal with ashes. The remains of the deceased. No matter how those who pass away see their glass, meager or full, they eventually end up in a satchel carried on my shoulder.
My business card reads “Morton Stark Transport.” I’m called upon to disperse the ashes of the dearly departed and honor their final wishes. People hire me to escort the remains throughout the world ...

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