The Gardener's Garden

Submitted by Regina on Mon, 08/28/2017 - 01:51

“Ben, I want to be a gardener.”
“A what?”
“A gardener. And I want you to teach me.”
“Oh,” said Ben, and chuckled.
And so it was.

At first I shadowed Ben, stood behind him and solemnly observed. The first thing I noticed was how little he spoke, how deliberately he moved, and how cumbersome he found it to communicate his thoughts to me. Giving me a task was a sacrifice to him. How could he forsake cradling each and every seed, nestling each one beneath the soil with his own wise fingers, fingers he trusted, fingers in accord with his thoughts.

Gotta Get There

Submitted by Damaris Ann on Fri, 08/18/2017 - 20:46

Ana's phone started pulsing, alerting her that she had an incoming video call. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw who it was. She hit the green button and watched as her favorite face came into view. "Alex! I was just praying for you."
"Hey Babe. Is this a good time to talk?"
"Any time is a good time. I miss you so much."
"How is your sister doing?"
"She's better. She and Samuel will be discharged on Monday morning, and then I'll be able to fly back home on Wednesday after she's settled in."
Alex smiled. "How's the baby doing?"

Burnin' n Bakin'

Submitted by Libby on Fri, 08/18/2017 - 04:29

A pinch of this, a dab of that
Into the mixing bowl,
Then stir until you cain’t no more,
With all your heart and soul.

This recipe to good success
To many lives has bring’d
A sense of hope with smells o’ joy—
When baking tunes is sing’d.

The scent o’ sweet fresh bread, homemade
A loner’s heart can cheer
It saves him from the pit of gloom
And from the shame of beer.

So here’s to yous a message plain
To all who burn and bake
Keep up your work and think to put
Some love in what you make.

Compass

Submitted by Gina I. on Sun, 08/13/2017 - 02:45

Oh my child, the fight is won
But you are lost, and far from home
There is none to guide you on
Just the stars to be your compass

Though your heart may be torn
Sorrow wears, your faith is worn
With perseverance comes the morn
And the stars will be your compass

The Fire

Submitted by Gina I. on Sun, 08/13/2017 - 02:40

Into the fire that we set ablaze
Burning bridges only serves to light our way
Fighting for a dying world, we're heroes meant for this
We'll always carry on, even if we don't last a day

Into the fire with courage in our souls
Whether we live or die, we'll never be alone
And whether or not we live to see the sun rise again
We'll stand and fight for the chance that we might win

Insipid/In his dream/there used to be a reason why

Submitted by Madeline on Fri, 08/11/2017 - 11:49

Insipid

Tipped
over the edge of something
good
but maybe you'd
tripped
is what you think and maybe that you
should
have gone and
dipped
your toes into it sooner and you
would
have felt the forceful flow
eclipse
all your stale memories, and everything you
stood
and slouched for, now you ask yourself
remiss
ravaged by regret
could
it have made a
difference
whether you gone in raging or
insipid.

_______

In his dream

The Death of the Beekeeper I

Submitted by Sarah Bethany on Fri, 08/04/2017 - 18:07

My godparents' ancient house was slope-nosed like a saltbox, and colored ladybug-red. The yard was more moss than grass. The forest crowded close to the house, and made everything shadowy and cool. But over a hill, in a meadow, my ancient godfather kept bees in the open sunshine.

His ancient wife was allergic to their stings.

"So I don't know why he keeps them," disapproved my young mother.

"He keeps them far away from the house," defended my young father.

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