The Drops That Dripped

A Poem By JimWaters // 3/18/2019

I stepped outside,
Felt the slap of winter’s
Icy breath
And stood beneath
The rain-soaked pines

Drops dripped

I looked up, fists clenched
And felt a wet ceiling above
A great ice wall betwixt me
And the sky
Unleashing and spitting upon me

Drops dripped

The Lord had taken my joy
I said
Had swept my feet from under
Like a scythe at harvest
My precious things in their
Full bloom,
Their life and blood on the earth

Drops dripped

The days passed and still
I stood
My fists curled against
The wine-dark sky
Clenched jaw turned to
Moistened eyes

Out of Time: Four

Fiction By Anna // 11/22/2011

I fell silent as we stepped off the pavement, out of the cold, and into the chip shop. I wrinkled my nose as feeling returned to it, inhaling the delicious smell of salt and vinegar. We crossed the black-and-white-checkered floor between the rows of two booths on each side.
In I way, I think our order of coping chips was to stall the actual coping. Even the much-pierced girl behind the counter must have sensed the discomfort between us.

Out of Time: One

Fiction By Anna // 9/1/2011

Do you see that man walking down the street? No, the other one, from whom your eyes naturally pull away. Hard to focus on, isn’t he?

So I Had This Dream

Fiction By Anna // 11/5/2010

night of 11/2/2010

In My Father's House

Fiction By Kyleigh // 6/15/2008

In my Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?

“And a one, two, three, four… off you go.”

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