self Archives - Spillwords

Medusa’s Carnival of Skaz

Susan Marie ShumanOctober 13, 2019

Medusa's Carnival of Skaz written by: Susan Marie Shuman According to poststructuralist “libidinal” feminist writer, Helene Cixous, “Woman must writ...

ArticleEnglishFeatured Post16 min read

Forbidden

Patrick DoranSeptember 19, 2019

Forbidden written by: Patrick Doran No one knows the person behind the words that I write, he is a stranger to me until he appears late at night. ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Goodbye

Mona LisaSeptember 18, 2019

Goodbye written by: Mona Lisa Subtle, Gross. Ecstatic, Pensive. Beautiful, Ugly. The “I” keeps changing its inner ambiance in reaction to outs...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

That Was Then, This Is Now

Christine E. RayAugust 5, 2019

That Was Then, This Is Now written by: Christine E. Ray @Christabelle666 i used to worry that others would finally see the truth of me my midnight ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Treachery Of The Performance

Glen McKenzieJuly 29, 2019

Treachery Of The Performance written by: Glen McKenzie @justabitfurther the deception of theatre the mask one bears isn't the play words sentences...

EnglishPoetry2 min read

Slow Is Living Long

Alias MimmieJune 24, 2019

Slow Is Living Long written by: Alias Mimmie @Snehashreemand1 The timid world rests through failing glory, we rest on the falling railing. Rest is ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

The Heart of The Wind

David DephyJune 3, 2019

The Heart of The Wind written by: David Dephy Floating on the stream of your breath listening to the sound of your breath loving your silently deep ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

My Poetry: A Metapoem

Lopa BanerjeeJune 1, 2019

My Poetry: A Metapoem written by: Lopa Banerjee @rooafza My poetry was born as mistaken scraps in your notebook Your ferociously guarded mansion, ...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Shirtless

Mickey KulpMay 14, 2019

Shirtless written by: Mickey Kulp @mickey_kulp My wife said I should take off my shirt. After all, it is a hot day, and the backyard is private ...

EnglishLiterature0 min read

These Pieces Of Me

Laura HughesMay 5, 2019

These Pieces Of Me written by: Laura Hughes @Ri_Ri1977 Whenever you look at me, what is it that you can see? Can you see the pain in my eyes, with...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry1 min read

Unfinished Business

Jack Wolfe FrostMay 4, 2019

Unfinished Business written by: Jack Wolfe Frost @JackWolfeWriter Unfinished business it follows like a shadow, Carving the light, insipid darkened ...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry1 min read

Self-Loathing

Pranjal SrivastavaMay 2, 2019

Self-Loathing written by: Pranjal Srivastava The drunken fool returned to his hell All soaked up in restlessness and anxiety He couldn't hold on t...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

The Gift of Me

paeansunpluggedApril 24, 2019

The gift of me written by: paeansunplugged I gift unto myself the gift of me to be who I want to be and not what others expect from me to ne...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Fractured

Tissy TaylorApril 13, 2019

Fractured written by: Tissy Taylor @raisingtissy Pieces unfitted strewn across a carpet bare Shattered heartbeats fragile worn with frig...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry0 min read

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 ...