Poetry
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"Tiggy" by Rose Kimbrough
Ms. Kimbrough was a participant in the spring 2011 course Introduction to Short Story Writing.
On gentle paws she glides across the room.
Light and air compose her soft grey being.
Green eyed creature that leaps through air…
Graceful…light…landing almost without sound.
Pausing, posed in a sunlit window,to sensuously lick herself clean of danger and care.
Ready to curl for a nap around some unseen axis.
Sunlight gathering itself, until motion once again takes over from repose.
Then a yawn and one great stretch…
Returned now the impulse to hunt the leafy forest,and feel the wild freedom in her paws.
1990
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"The Surfliner" by Dana Sexton
Ms. Sexton was a participant in the in the fall 2011 course Writing the Novel: The Basics.
Rusted wheels and
Steel hulk humming
Reverberation
Upon cool plate glass
Night birds calling and
Full moon pulling
The ocean water retreats while
Worn tracks deep in gravel
Meet the sloping berm
Circular rhythm, spinning forward
Past shadowed treetops and
Black roof houses
Fenced by telephone poles
Thick with tar
All lit
With neon
Moonlight
Porch lights
The myopic beam of the engine
All reflected in this salt air speed
All watched by this one traveler
Head resting on a damp pane
Reading the illuminated darkness
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"The Wall (from Motion of Time)" by Rose Kimbrough
Ms. Kimbrough was a participant in the spring 2011 course Introduction to Short Story Writing.
There is a wall that's keeping away Spring.
Everyone tries like a thief,
To find a new crown and a friend.
They pray and make a fuss and create lore
To explain the forms and signs.
They want to make the boat seem steady,
As it sails this rang of Ocean,
Looking for a strand that leads past death…
That leads past grief
To give us a taste of a new seeing.
A new mass with a new friend…
1990
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"Words Still Waiting" by John Lynn
Mr. Lynn was a participant in the fall 2010 course Script-Writing Workshop
I finished my story yesterday
Words Still Waiting…
To my neighbors it went
Words Still Waiting…
To my mother, my aunt, and finally my daughter these pages sent
Words Still Waiting…
To the upper shelf of the closest my deepest thoughts would spend
Words Still Waiting…
And my daughter was married
Words Still Waiting…
Till my granddaughter was born
Words Still Waiting…
And visited her grandfather's grave
Words Still Waiting…
Till she opened the book and read it to the back
Words Still Waiting…
And added the final thought that sent my story to the streets
Words Still Waiting…
Her final words?
Words Still Waiting…
Till she wrote her own story but couldn't finish
Words Still Waiting…
Until Yesterday
Words Still Waiting…
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