I decided to write a blog. Just for no reason. Just about nothing. Just a blog.
Very interesting and beatiful style!
Inkblot black canvas
Sky, static, supine
To needle and thread;
The stars are all dead.
So sing, heartstrings, and
Chant dirges, solemn;
Lo, the funeral
March does march and will
Soon march for us all.
Dread step to altar
With rosary beads;
Pray, but beseech whom?
Penitence won’t save–
God is locked in tomb.
White spectre does rise,
Corpulent, and cruel;
Beneath her sharp light
Many men have hung
In the precious name
Of righteous justice—
In the name of He.
Now they shall lose the
One they cannot see.
There was a full moon.
And moon ate the dark;
Eclipsed the Heavens.
Kindra M. Austin is a self-published fiction author, and a writer/Contributing Editor for The Bridge Magazine online. You can read her poems and prose at https://poemsandparagraphs.wordpress.com/ and articles at http://thebridgemag.com/.
Time for me is nothing but an illusion
It'll be the Diamond Knife Which tear down that black wall
“Two artists can’t be together, Luna. Like, you and I? We’d destroy each other. We would be like two magnets. There is that initial pull and attraction, but when magnets actually touch they repel each other. They drive each other apart. When you are an artist you take up all the air in a room. A Sun doesn’t need another Sun. We would just combust. We need something that reflects us. Jess is my gravity. She grounds me so I don’t spin off into the atmosphere and burn away. Every Sun needs a Moon. It’s the nature of the universe. It’s how you and I are made.”
These lines made my mind go blank for a minutes while I read it again and again savoring it’s taste. Amazing writing!
How could I not publish a short story inspired by the prompt?!
Luna traced her finger down the long crack in the cement stoop they were sitting on. It ran under her feet like a fault line and disappeared under the toe of Sam’s dark Van shoe beside her—something a teenage skater would more likely wear than a married father approaching his forties—but somehow they always looked right on him.
A ladybug was caught upside down on its back in the crack beside Sam’s foot. It pedaled the air wildly, stranded by its own gravity. Luna slowly pulled one of Sam’s shoelaces undone and dangled it over the ladybug like a lifeline but it couldn’t catch hold, continuing to grope aimlessly for the leverage to right itself again. Crickets sang in the field across the street and frogs croaked to each other from a stream somewhere.
She was drunk. She…
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Finally! One of the submissions I have been waiting for because of all the buzz about her writing. After reading it, I can say it’s completely true, it really is very beatiful! And impressive bio 🙂
The night was black, void of all stars, and not even the glow of the moon cut through it like a blue-tipped blade, devouring that obsidian nothingness like it’s next meal. That silence, where only my thoughts, breaths, and beating heart kept me company, wasn’t enough to tame that lingering sense of desperation. It ate away at me. Each second feeling like hours, and hours feeling like days, until I’d lost all sense of time. I’d never felt more alone. But after what felt like an eternity of nothing, when the last of my sanity began to slip away, the clouds parted, revealing the moon. It shone like a beacon in the abyss, and at long last, I was no longer alone.
© Sarah Doughty (or whatever signature you’d like to use)
Sarah Doughty is the tingling wonder-voice behind Heartstring Eulogies. She’s also the author of The Silence Between Moonbeams, her poetry…
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I want to get drunk
The black spreads afar