A Tiny And Colorful Literary Journal

Posts tagged ‘Gemma Bristow’

February

Sun worshiper by Lisa Nielson

The ocean is all teeth today–devouring the sand, but enraged by its compliance.  Suppler days are dreamy, but we have monsters to tame.

Lisa Nielsen is studiously working on her resolution to write more and clean less.

Below the Belt by Alice G. Otto

Friends parade pocketed portraits of their kids: soccer, choir, scouts. The missing baby teeth are daggers.  Nothing’s taking, nothing’s working.  Your own wallet is barren.

Alice G. Otto lives in Fayetteville, Arkansas with her husband, two voracious beagles, and an extra-toed cat. She is currently an MFA candidate at the University of Arkansas.

Go Go Green by Bruce Harris.

She made her own compost, bought an electric car, and heated her home with solar energy.  Everything was sustainable and recyclable, except her nail polish.

Bruce Harris enjoys relaxing with a Marxman.

Three pieces by Gemma Bristow

Berry Burst

They freeze too quickly for astonishment, ripe fruit crashing from the branches into snow.

By morning, all is white except the pulp of six pomegranates.

Palladium

Daylight makes real what she dreamed so long.  Their goddess, their protector, stolen from her dais, and the gates of the city buckling under blows.

Wedding Gown

Nailed into a box of bronze and cedar to hide her disgrace.  Only the waves, as she’s pushed from shore, murmur I will protect you.

Gemma Bristow is a technical writer who tries not to think about software interfaces all the time. Her poetry and prose have appeared in various publications.

Three pieces by Joanna M. Weston

 Temptress

Smoke sifts out through the tent door, a gentle pale drift against deep blue sky. The familiar smell tickles my nostrils and I smile: pot.

Sunshine Sparkle

My skis hurtling down, wind stings my cheeks. A burst of dazzling white, and I’ve fallen, a whirl of poles and skis, blinded by sunshine.

Smoky Canvas

He bought a large red herring, cooked it in butter on his gas stove while texting his girl-friend. The explosion fried his fish and mortgage.

Joanna M. Weston is married; has two cats, multiple spiders, a herd of deer, and two derelict hen-houses. Her middle-reader, ‘Those Blue Shoes’, published by Clarity House Press; and poetry, ‘A Summer Father’, published by Frontenac House of Calgary. Her eBook, ‘The Willow Tree Girl’ at her blog: http://www.1960willowtree.wordpress.com/

Two pieces by Zoë Danielle

Ruby Pumps

I wore them because of the slender length they gave my legs, stretching off into nothingness, while the sharp point of the heel anchored me.

Rock Candy

It reminded me of her; all violent edges but translucent in a way that let me see right through. One bite and I tasted blood.

 

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December

                               

Beam Me Up Hottie by Ami Allen-Vath

Scrolling pay per view, tipped rocking horse, toy tornado, baby’s 90-ish minute nap–fiercely ticking away–she forgoes housework and a shower for Magic Mike.

Ami Allen-Vath is on a fresh chapter of self-discovery.  This summer she quit her sales job to stay home with her two children, pursue her passions, and maybe cook dinner once or twice a week for her supportive husband.  She is currently writing a YA novel with aspirations of finishing it in the summer of 2013.

 

Three pieces by Shawn Murtagh

Potato Fields

Two overalls filled with boy and girl dash through potato fields; he crashes, she raises him, he rests on one knee, and will again someday.

Blushing Bride

He blushes her. She cannot hide from him. Floating with father, she’s vulnerable and afraid. He will touch her heart and body with mortal hands.

Mob Square

Tien`amin tanks roll, and the mob disintegrates. Bullets are flying fascists when people are peaceful. Fire in the dark laughs louder than the people cry.

Shawn Murtagh’s wife can give herself a professional French tip, and it saves him 50 bucks a month. His vision-blog for an E-Zine that will captivate, motivate, and challenge the youth of the world can be found at http://catalystlit.blogspot.com/

 

 

Two pieces by Laura Stearns

Barlust

I found a can of tuna and some carrots for lunch today.  Note left on counter: please help dad get groceries and toilet paper tonite.

Step Right Up

He was so nice, I fell in love again.  “This time it’s for real!!” I told my girls.  They just smiled while shaking their heads.

Laura and her best friend are both writers.  Her friend found this awesome nail polish stories website. Love. One of her stories got picked for December!  She was like, “Oh yea bitch? Getting published before me!? Bring it!”

The One For Me by Luke Armstrong

This Bud’s for you, she said, grabbing my last PBR and toasting me like a maniac. It was not for me. And neither is she.

Luke Maguire Armstrong (LukeSpartacus.com) once fought a bear and almost died. Haters later claimed it was “only a raccoon” and that he was acting like “a little girl.” @LukeSpartacus

Victoriana by Gemma Bristow

‘Someone died on that,’ was your comment when we bought it. A relic of a rotten empire. You only want it now because I do.

Gemma Bristow is a technical writer who tries not to think of software interfaces all the time.  She wrote a thesis on imagism and has published poems in various magazines.

Street Smart  

The neon sign is as hot and pink as a summer night whose heat keeps people seated, sedate. I feel sorry for the girls inside.

Jocelyn Crawley is a 28-year-old college student currently pursuing a Masters of Divinity degree. Her work has appeared in Jerry Jazz Musician and is forthcoming in Faces of Feminism, Calliope, and Visceral Uterus. She enjoys using the written word to challenge patriarchal paradigms.

 

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