K. Morris's Blog, page 419

The Bright Side of Darkness – Guest Post by Jo Elizabeth Pinto

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I’ve known I was destined to write even before I learned to read. I remember cuddling with my dad on the high-backed couch in our living room, feeling safe and loved, while he read aloud a library book about Osceola. The brave Seminole Indian chief fought the brutal attempts by the U.S. government to remove his people from Florida during the early 1800’s.

When my dad finished the book, I said sadly, “It’s all gone.”

“It’s not gone,” he told me, laying the book in my hands. “We can turn it ar...

Awaking at 3 am

Awaking at 3 am
I took up my quill pen,
But being unable to think
I drank some black ink,
And swallowed that quil pen.

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Awaking at 3 am
I took up my quill pen,
But being unable to think
I took to strong drink,
And conversed with a chicken called Glen.

Caresses

She undresses.
Suffers caresses.
Money impresses.

A duty.

A powerful piece of writing.

The Ederren

The sound of stone along my blade, a song whose rhythm is kept uneven by nicks and dents often too small to be expected by the eye. I must keep it sharp, it is not for me but instead for those whom it is kept.

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While Out In The Fields Making Hay

While out in the fields making hay
I met a young lady named Fay.
By the light of the moon
We ran the egg and spoon,
And then we collapsed in the hay!

Meeting Inspiration Again – guest post by Abbie Johnson Taylor

Meeting My Inspiration Again

By Abbie Johnson Taylor

One sunny spring afternoon, I was resting in my recliner, listening to the drone of lawnmowers and whine of weed whackers as my landscapers did their weekly
chores in my yard. Suddenly, I heard a crash. It was a lawnmower colliding with a parked car in my neighbor’s driveway. I know this only because one of
the landscapers, not knowing me, came to my door, thinking it was my driveway and my car.

According to a policeman who showed up a coup...

A New, Unsullied Page

A new, unsullied page
Will be turned, as it must.
Love and lust.
Heels wear down with age.

Guest Post: The Heart of Applebutter Hill, by Donna W. Hill

[image error]My thanks to Donna W. Hill for sharing the below chapter from her novel “The Heart of Applebutter Hill”. The below content is copyright of Donna W. Hill and may not be reproduced without the express written permission of the author.

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The Heart of Applebutter Hill by Donna W. Hill

Author’s Note:

Writers’ Roundtable is manditory for all refugees at the Plumkettle Learning Center. Abigail is a fourteen-year-old legally blind songwriter who uses a guide dog named Curly Connor (aka, the Fluffe...

Listening To The Rain

Yesterday evening I got into a heated (though civil) conversation with a dear friend for whom I have great affection. My friend said (in response to my defence of freedom), that “freedom” was “just a concept”. Freedom is certainly not just a “concept”. Freedom is the right to criticise the government without fear of arrest or (in extreme cases) death. It is the right to peacefully enjoy any property you may own without the constant fear that it may be confiscated without compensation or due l...

Downpour. (haiku)

Rusted Honey

Wet season arrives
with muddy hems and soft groans—
black umbrellas bloom.

© Nancy Botta, 2019

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