CREATIVE WRITING's topics - tribe.net

Jon's Poetry

Jon — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 15:24:33 GMT

Vaulting Height Moon View
White Grey, A Soft White Light Peace
Blue Canopy Sky

Sky Vast Vast High Height
Tiny Black Dotted Sky Flight
Wisps, Vaulted Power

Super Blue Cool Dawn
Movement Flashes The New Sky
Dawn Calligraphy

The Red Sharp Shock Orange
Fall Maple Leaves By Hundreds!
All Stop Stark Against Sky

Suburban Landscape Dreams,
The Sky That Would Wish To Be,
Full Floated Fluff Stuff.

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these two are from a writing prompt
“to one who has gone”

Now And Now And Gone,
Hands Held To Head And Screaming
All Tear Born Scarred

Quake; Shaking, Rattling
Rock Cavern Hollow Heart Tear
Wishing Wet Eyes Would Speak

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another darker one

Paper Shreds, Flailed
The Scattering To Empty
When I What Was Once

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an “insomnia” haiku

Lagging Nagging Now
Oh No The Again Again
Laughing Dancing Bones

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from an image of Bryce National Park

Stark Erosion Forms
The Eons Of Slow Sculpture
Sand, Beige And Sweet Reds

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From an image of Ikebana

On The Table Lines Speak
There Content Colors Reply
My Eyes Stopped, Joy!

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from an image of Zion National Park

Soft Red Meanders
The Quiet Life In Corners
Sandstone Beauty Pause

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From the image of a whale and sunset

Gentle Setting Orb
A Whale Celebrates The Sun
Big Happy Boy Splash!

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From the image of a peony:

A Gentle Offering
Open Hands Up To The Sky
This Proud Standing Pink

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Grand Canyon

http://www.aqua.co.za/assa_jhb/new/Canopus/Can2004/094%20The%20Grand%20Canyon%20Arizona.JPG

Open Vast-Scape Sight
Glorious Red Purple Hue
Thrown Here For Our Eye

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http://www.webpages.uidaho.edu/~rfrey/images/lotus.jpg

Pond Is Cool Water
There Supported Standing Up
White Flower Smile

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Eyes And Millions And
Tall Trees In The Everywheres
Black Bird Eyes Darting

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Big Big Belly Paws
White Bouncy Ready Peppy
Happy Tiger Day

http://www.babyanimalz.com/images/baby.tigers.jpg

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this one is from a photo posted in the Photography Tribe

Greens Seek Blues Seek Peace
There! In The Waning Corner!
Blue Rainbow Mushroom

http://gophoto.tribe.net/photos/f877ec4f-76ce-4eff-b208-bb925c0d23a9

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Bossman comedy ones

Sugar plum sweet joy
The tasks he gives me to do
I love my boss so

Soft flower petals
The words he speaks to me
Gentle Dear Bossman

Gentle Dear Bossman
I Brought My Gun Today
Who Is The Boss Now?

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Black And White Stripes
This Mime Is Driving Me Nuts
Mime Murder Smile-Joy

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White Star Center Dance
Sharp Cool Blue Spiral Primed
Otherworld Pinwheel

http://www.hermann-uwe.de/files/images/blue_flower.preview_0.jpg

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Bird Bird Bird Hop Hop
Peppy Pop Popping Hop Hop
Wind Gust, Glance, Then Gone

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Die Huge Silverfish
Object Of My Frustration
Thwack! I Feel Better

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Water Wishes, Wants
Mixings, Blues, Lines, Whites And Breath
Stop - Satisfaction

http://www.heilmandesigns.com/waterfall-crystal-creek-2.j.jpg

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Canvass And Palette
Soft Orange Purple Caress
Sweet Pastel Sky Sigh

http://www.cadtutor.net/ibank/raster/sky/source/sky-13.jpg

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Rose And Dew And Gray
Soft Simple Quiet Morning
A Taste of the Sky

http://www.georgeledger.co.uk/images/monochrome/rose%20and%20dew%202%20B&W.jpg

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Sky Deep Sky Blue, Rich
Sand Grass Are Hair Stalks, Rich Lines
Sharp Funk Touches Sky

http://www.qedata.se/bilder/gallerier/litauiskt-galleri/sventoji/strand-dag2.jpg

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Beauty's Lonely Tear
She Waits For One Who Is Gone
Flower Petal wind

http://www.duckdaotsu.org/11/LadyXiangsm.jpg

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Two Haiku-sketches from a picture inspiration

She Shyly Wishes
While Wondering What Elves Do
Hides Her Face And Smiles

Glowing Living Free
Sunlight Playing In The Field
These Tinies Are Gold

http://www.fotosearch.com/comp/BNS/BNS198/YPL024.jpg

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That Someday I Might
The Richer Reds Dissolve, Burn Deep
Flame-Licks Tick, Tick, Tick

http://www.gladlylearn.com/Flames1024.bmp

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Secluded Aqua
Haven From Daily Task's Toil
Water-Peace-Mind-Rest

http://www.indodaman.com/images/The_most_famous_waterfall_in_Khao_Yai_Haeo_Suwat_Waterfall.gif

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comedy haiku

She Surely Knows You
She Tells You All This Daily
You Do Not Listen

http://www.americansforprosperity.org/includes/imagemanager/images/old_lady.jpg

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Strong Colors Dancing
Power In Every Breath
Sky As Yellow Fire

http://static.flickr.com/29/67810981_637ae582d2_b.jpg

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Odd Horizontal
Silly Staring Goat
Curiously Bent Eyes

http://www.shoreshheritageranch.com/photos/DSC00732_eye.JPG

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Little Bear Mister
Ready To Hug The Whole World
Happy Forest Day

http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/NGSPOD04/108627~A-Grizzly-Bear-Cub-Stands-with-Arms-Outstretched-Posters.jpg

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Take Me Back And Home
To Sleep Among Rose Petals
Dream-Rest In Eden

http://www.instruction.greenriver.edu/lmmueller/Portland%20rose%20garden.JPG

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Three Thoughtful Tears Today
Slowly, Deliberate, Calm
Broken Bones, Mourning

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Bloated Ugly Puff
Drained Wasted Bold Useless
Another Today

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Quiet Pale Breeze Wafts
Peony's Stinging Sweetness
All-Awed-Stark-Silence

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Scrawny Little Brat
Spawn Of Some Restless Gremlin
Spitball In My Ear

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NY Commuting
Crazy Anger Race To Nowhere
Tick Tick Tick Tick Tick

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Wobbly Baby Walk
Tender Chubby Cherub Cheeks
Blossom Sunrise Smile

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Pale Neck Lifted Back
Awe-Glory Waking Expanse
The Sky Standing Up

http://www.oursaviorchurch.org/school/faculty/gthorp/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/cornfields.jpg

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 25 replies

Missing Person - Update

Jon — Sat, 24 Nov 2007 20:32:47 GMT

Hi Folks..

Awhile ago, I passed this along...about a Tribe sister who's son Chris has been missing since September.

(Here is the website:http://www.findchris.org/)

There is some news! It is the first lead in the case!

"Today a girl working at a gas station in Cortez, CO says' she can positively identify Chris as a boy that has come in several time, most recently with 2-3 day, trying to buy cigarettes..."

Here's hoping that the good folks in law enforcement can take this lead and finally bring Chris home!

Please send out some good vibes and, if you could, pass this info along to anyone you know in Colorado
and especially in the Cortez area.

Here is a link to a map for Cortez, CO:

http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Cortez,+CO,+USA&sa=X&oi=map&ct=title

thanks,

Jon

PS - Wendy from the Tribe Net staff has given me permission to cross post

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 2 replies

"Evolution" A short story

mad mark — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 20:22:01 GMT

Evolution. (A Short (Dancing)Story)

Evolution

By: Mark Stegman

A dark neon light illuminated the warehouse emanating from the movement of the dancer. Red and blue photons shoot outward like a self contained disco-ball from the kicking dancing form of the short black hooded creature; who is literally spinning and jumping off of the air. His feet only tapping the dance floor for minute seconds before propelling him back into elevation; he jumps off from an invisible carbolic structure that seemingly surrounds him, and lands a back flip. Shouts of “Oh Yeah!” & “Damn” were heard coming from the dancing crowd. Even the grinning D.J. is watching in awe unbelievingly witnessing the scene he’s scratching at. As The Kid lands the back flip the last bell of the last verse chimes, the bell resonates in a dissolving echoe; he jumps straight up from the floor, timed with the first opening note of a quickening rhythm of low bass fast paced bullets that increase in number as they decrease in wavelength. The crowd watches him appear to grasp an invisible bar above his head, lifting his body off the ground, spinning as fast as an ice skater in full rotation; faster, and faster his rotation quickens, while floating three feet in the air.

The crowd has come from all over the planet to reach this tribe of mental matter philosophy student practitioners; The Kid is the underground prodigy of the dance movement. The colorful tribe dance and pulse in universally shared rhythms and unshared individual interpretations.

The tribe of dancing ninjas, or whom educated intellectuals call “ la Fuga College” which two Italian words closely translate “escape, connect”, numbers are few but each member is accomplished and world renown. The ninja themselves use a name with no known pronunciation, they use a form of telepathic pathway communication that they demonstrate twice a year for the scientific community; they train in the arts of quickness and stillness. Their name that they called themselves is a secret only privy to those initiated in the practice of the art of movement and time. The mass of people just refer to them as dancing ninja’s rather than explain their own attempt of interpretation of such an eclectic group.

The crowd pumped to the rhythms surrounded by miracles and overcoming their own barriers to their speeds, they rejoiced. The crowd was witnessing The Kid in first person account, those of whom for the first time now believers of the impossible stories told of his incredible physical feats. It was a weekday morning and this crowd had dedicated their lives to the mindfull art of movement, music, and dancing.

The oldest man in the crowd stood hidden and silent; still and attentive watching the young man spinning and tricking in front of the stage. Maverick’s black hood shields his eyes from the colorful lights jettisoning from the dancing prodigy; his black muscle shirt and Asian black wide pants make him invisible to almost everyone. He watches quietly as an exhaled breath from the shadows. His dark eyes, tuned into various electrical impulses, have a fractal pattern on his iris that make up the space between the pure dark soul hole in the center and the pure white; his eyes alone are enough to make people curious to what he sees and thinks. He is the teacher.

For his entire existence Maverick has been at the helm of every social group he has been a part of. He was a child prodigy quickly breaking the limits of what the teachers of the day thought was possible; but he came smack into a wall of self and ego that he has spent most of his life in quite prayer and meditation keeping in check. He has amazing powers of strength and speed, although it is rare to witness him using his full skill set, other than at the demonstrations. Most only see him appear and reappear standing motionless and calm, a serene smile aglow on his black face. He is the kind of caring that only is created in the fertile muck of scar tissue, from a past that remains a mystery to everyone save the teacher himself.

The dance hall is dark; the lights illuminated from the dancing creature in front of the stage. Light shot out of his heart, his throat, and his forehead like lightning bolts of northern lights; the walls and ceiling lit in flashes of blues and reds. The ground under him was aglow in a ghostly yellow white illumination that grew brighter as he built speed and energy in his whirling elevated rotation. Colorfully painted and costumed humans of all fashions and forms surrounded the incredibly fast paced dancer; they danced at a human speed watching the demonstration of un-human speed and creativity with wide eyes and ear to ear grins. Their faces reflected the blue and red flashes emanating from the child dancer.

Maverick could see clearly in the dark dancehall. He watched sharply from the shadows, his lips parted in a slight smile. The room was jumping yet his trained eye could see six stalwart statues blended into darkness and almost hidden in their stillness. He could see their eyes, he watched their faces attuned like giant cats waiting to pounce, enthralled by motion, watching the slightest discrepancies of movements in The Kids fluent spins and jumps. Through nods and certain looks and unity in reality the seven ninjas telepathically talked between themselves.

They all agreed, never had any one move so fast. The Kid is so aware of the moment that he adds many slight rhythmical movements to the sound of 64 and 128 beats inside of themselves. Maverick imagined what The Kid must be feeling in his trancelike dance. Everything the kid did was intentional. Not one of the ninjas saw his face, not one of the dancing throng saw the black clad ninja disappear from their presence except for The Kid, who felt the seven ninjas appear above and behind the stage in the hidden temple. The D.J., stationed along with several skinny girls break dancing on the stage, continued to pour rhythms and momentum from the sharp crystal speakers leading the pulsating beat of the dancing crowd.

The kid disappeared in mid air right before their awed eyes. The throng of dancers cheered as if they just witnessed a miracle and the most immense astrological sky event in the history of the earth. The crowd roared with laughter and “oh yeahs!” The D.J. and band being on the scene long enough to have witness the speed of a ninja more than most kicked back into rhythm, the packed warehouse let go into magic movements attuning their bodies to horns and full on keyboard blasts inspired by the movements and speeds the young kid had just demonstrated.

Now everything is possible.

The break dancers on the stage were spinning on their backs and up onto their hands at ultra intense speeds, several people pulled off front and back flips in the crowd, a group of whirling dervishes spun in the corner of the room with peaceful smiles plastered on their faces; their white robes flowing a continuation of the moment.

The kid appeared before the ninjas in the upstairs room of sage and darkness; smiling a child’s grin he knew he wowed the elders. His sandy blonde hair exposed from underneath the front of his black hood, he was not breathing hard or even sweating. There isn’t a word to describe the level of quickness The Kid prodigy had reached, as if any of them talked anyway. The ninjas sat in silence and allowed the event to process in their minds. After a moment The Kid sat and slowed his thoughts to find and allow the true constant speed of reality; the blessed gravity level that all atoms spin at and stick to on this plane of time and space. They sat in a silent circle, each of them buzzing and humming with electricity, and beamed their intense happiness and light outward into the metaphysical universe of their minds. If one was close and telepathically imbibed they would here a sound of a high pitch ohm constant and continual, like angel’s harmonies through outer space, emanating from the motion less ninjas.

“Your brother is amazing!” The slim dancing girl yelled to the broad chested, twenty something, everyone calls Chester; the unnamed keeper of physical peace and known as one of the kindest kids to know.

“I am one of the oldest dancers in this room, or space ship, or submarine, or whatever the shape this places is taking; because we are definitely time traveling through space!” His eyes continually scanning the surface of the dancers, like a man standing on a beach before the expanse of a green ocean, watching and witnessing life before his very eyes, he smiled.

“That’s the same thing.” The girl tried to say as scientifically pleasing and “un-cute” as possible. “Any time you’re moving your time traveling, as such, any time your time traveling your moving. Even when you’re standing still you’re moving.” The girl said standing at Chester’s chest trying to get to know his knowledge of speed and the ninjas; he keeps it very chill.

“Life is good no matter where, or when, you’re at.” He said, smiling at her as she floated around him like a fluttering butterfly. He thought she was cute and knew her to be amazingly grounded for as many complex dual realities she has shown to express. “You are coming along in your understanding.” He said to the girl standing a foot taller than her. She smiled brightly radiating an angelic light.

Chester’s smile was the green light for the entire scene; if Chester is standing guard over the dance, then all is safe and O.K.

“Well it’s a blessing to be coming up with your brother. You know he has impressed the elders, and quite possibly drawn the attention of the king and queen of neighboring dimensions?” She said suddenly seriously.

“No, I was unaware of this development of those dimensional neighbors of ours. If you see them, tell them Chester said sorry for the loud music.” He eyed the crowd acting as if he did not care if the young girl wanted to be a ninja or whatever.

“It’s very real Chester!” The young girl scolded. “We don’t joke about these kinds of velocities.” She was definitely seriously now but quickly realized that she was talking to someone who has light years upon her. “Guess you get enough of it at home, huh.” She said softly.

Chester smiled at her understanding, and looked her in the eye one last time. ”Yup, taking care of The Kid is a full time job.” Showing her a taste of his aptitude he suddenly vanished, leaving her alone, smiling and impressed.

Upstairs in the temple, clad in plaid spinning in front of the seven sitting elders, The Kid had reached such a fast speed spinning that time around him had become aware of itself and slowed down, gelled, liquefied, slowed; the dancing practitioners sitting in a large circle around the spinning prodigy could feel the sloping pull of gravity lean and slope inwards on the rotating dancer.

The Kid spoke to all in the room, his face invisible in the whirl that has become him. He spoke to each of the fellow students in a voice made for each of their own personal understanding, “During the phenomenon of sustained high speeds, eventually the mind gets used too and accepts the up-tempo reality as the normal rate of consciousness; thus, allowing the mind to recognize the fast rate of speed as a starting point in the continually occurring moment. Once this is achieved the ninja can then jump from the spinning speed with a new and fresh body that feels like its standing still even though it’s moving very fast already.”

By now the plaid lit ninja only hit the floor for a split second in ten, his spinning body unable to be seen inside of his shape. This demonstration was for ninjas only in the temple of the warehouse, but has become the host spot for high-energy gatherings that bring the elite mind movers from all around the planet.

“Time is space and space is time.” The tattoo read in Sumerian on all of the feet of the dancing ninja. Quoting the first realization many ninja claim begins the long, and short, never-ending journey to enlightenment. The seven elders were very impressed with The Kid’s progress and the feats that he was able to pull off physically. But at his age, they were all in agreement and nodded; that to understand too much to fast could be detrimental to the development of the true sage The Kid was destined to become. They told him, as the night grew late, to take some time in meditation before he danced again; continue forward to stillness as well as forward to continued speed. The elders tried to instruct him of the importance of understanding the continuation of the speed of this dimension, the sacred forces of the gravity pull that keep all atoms in sync with each other here; able to understand each other and differentiate from each other.

The kid agreed to take three days of meditation at home before he would return to the temple.

All ninja spent the rest of the night in practice of absolute speed and sudden stillness, learning from the shape and features their bodies took when they stopped suddenly amid high-speed dance, instantaneously becoming motionless.

The ninja called upon The Kids closest friend, Pablo, immediately after The Kid had left the temple. Pablo is the entire temples little brother, they all like him and are certain he will make a good dancer one day. Having had become The Kids friend and dedicated sidekick The Kid opened up to him, and that is what they both needed most, a friend. Slightly overweight, the round Pablo is always smiling, laughing, or telling a joke. Always in it though, he was always in the know, he had probably the deepest sense of what warehouses like this are about; he just doesn’t communicate it yet. Pablo had become the sidekick little brother of everyone in the entire scene and was the youngest allowed around.

They conveyed in words to Pablo, watching his facial features for reflections of flickering and twitches that might signify that his mind truly does here the telepathic song; for the symbol of a brother (a sympathizer) is expressed best by the color gold. Is he using his correct eyes?

He is told to help The Kid in any way, to visit him so that he doesn’t feel separated from the family in his time away; most importantly to get The Kid outdoors as much as possible. Pablo nodded, waiting momentarily to be sure the teachers are finished speaking, and then he quickly was out the door.

It was three days later the ninja family saw Pablo. The elder ninja’s were crossed legged in a circle in the temple above the stage. The air filled with ohm chants and sage, bells chimed from nowhere. Pablo entered the room. No one moved but everyone noticed his disturbance; when an un-situated youth enters the space of the bells its like a fat kid doing a cannonball into a still pool or, in this case, a sacred hot spring. The sudden glass smoothness of the water reflecting the universe and all that IS shattered into patterns familiar and associable to each of the elder’s childhood pasts. They sat in contemplation, as every moment is an opportunity to learn, see, understand, contemplate, test, create, shine, and now, they watched the new bending surfaces. The ninjas gently watched the energies reshuffle and sort out in miniature entropy until they could adequately see the young boy’s constant pulsating emmitances. They triangulated his position and quickly became aware of a higher than natural sounding pitch resonating from him. He was in a state of alarm and sweating.

Pablo’s entrance interrupted the elder’s meditations as they had convened to locate the change in resonance each of them had been sensing in the universe but could not put their finger on. Something was happening in the cosmic wind. Something was new and they were in the midst of calculating and feeling it out. Possibly a comet turning into the trajectory aligning itself with the path of the Earth, possibly dimensions away a young ninja has been hit with the wind of ideas and one of them he interpreted how to propel his evolved race through space safely at speeds of light; whatever it is, it is greater than the constant fluctuation of energies from solar winds and microwaves that occur naturally.

The ninja facing Pablo opened a communication link with his eyes testing to see the boy’s telepathic prowess. It was a good sign that the young boy allowed the link to open. The young Pablo was unsure if he had the capabilities to communicate with the ninja. Knowing the ninjas rarely talk, and hearing rumors of the powers of telepathy, he tried to quiet his mind. His young untrained brain filled with all its loudness, movements and noise; multiple voices and echoes asked him the same question in unison. “What could it be that the ninja is concerned with you right now?” He heard repeating in his own head, unsure if the sound was also outside his ears. The same voices finished his own thought, “He’s inquiring to your presence and your troubled heart.” The calm voices echoed and repeated in his mind blending into themselves. Suddenly all sound in his head went quiet. The sudden silence sounded as if he was suddenly dunked under water in the middle of a giant dance hall. He was floating through quiet space with stars and universes surrounding him in all directions. The teacher Maverick enveloped the young boy in a dimension of his creation; in awe Pablo heard a soft stern voice surround him so gently it warmed his body and almost made him fall asleep. His eyes fluttered but he knew what the voice had said

“Very good young Pablo.” The sound of his name and the compliment made him smile and reality awoke him from the dream trance bringing his eyes back into focus. He was in a direct vision tunnel with Maverick; whose soft eyes and smiling black face glowed bright from the tunnels end and calmed his heart. “What then brings such turmoil to your troubled heart young Pablo?”

Pablo was hearing telepathic communication for the first time. All of his prior daydreams of what it would be like were quiet and disappeared in the very weight of ecstasy overwhelming anything but the connection with the Master Maverick; the most admired and still ninja on earth. Pablo tried to put into words the words he had heard that morning. “It is something The Kid said to me today.” He spoke through his lips and could hear telepathically first his message, then, after traveling through space and air, he heard his voice. “He, you know, is resting, trying to slow down, like you said for him to do, slow down. But he was in a very quiet sort this morning when I visited him. His eyes were so calm and placid; they were even green instead of his bright blue. He was super still and super calmed out. He wouldn’t talk. He just looked at me funny, but I couldn’t get him to talk until finally he spoke. He said something weird.

“What did he say” Mavericks words were deep baritone and calming to the anxious youth. Pablo took a breath then continued.

“He said, It’s all still, nothing moves, it’s all connected and nothing is moving. That’s what he said and then he sort of froze up like he became … “

The ninja’s eyes flew open like vampires who had just had a wooden stake driven through their heart. They were on their feet seemingly without moving and outside before Pablo even knew how he or any of them were even moving. He finally realized he was on the back of the ninja known as Tadpole. He was telepathically being asked how long it’s been since he saw the Kid. He could not answer; the speed of how quickly the seven were moving was stunning him into silence. They were not running or even flying yet the world was changing around them, adjusting scenes to the will of the powerful ninjas. He heard all of them in his brain gathering his memories, reliving and reviewing his relationship with the young prodigy for the past several days as he was told to keep an eye on him.

“Could it be?” They asked each other. He heard random words of their high-speed telepathic discussions. “Infinity, early enlightenment, connection, and death” were the only words he could make out. One of the ninjas shot him a message to calm his nerves answering his questions about their movements that he hadn’t even had the time to verbalize.

“Imagine a floating magnet in a field of energy,” the calm voice instructed of him, “tweak the electric inputs, thus changing the magnetic field,” he heard this transmission clearly and when the speaker spoke all of the other chatter went silent like a walkie talkie button being pressed. “What happens to the magnet?”

Young Pablo wasn’t sure who was speaking to him but he visualized the scenario. “It moves.” He nodded in enlightenment. He visualized the image of a small meteorite magnet zipping around a magnetic field as masters tuned the controls, the meteorite seeming to appear, then reappear in a different location. He felt the presence of a teacher, pictured in his mind’s eye, who thus was standing next to the table with the magnetic field contraption on it. It was Tadpole, the elder ninja whose back he was attached to.

Tadpole spoke from inside Pablo’s mental image, standing beside the table wearing a white lab coat, he spoke without moving his mouth. “An object suspended by properties such as a magnet in a magnetic field must be in the location the settings of the field around it determine. The magnet will be affected by forces until it reaches its point of equilibrium, the stable location balanced amongst the various forces pushing and pulling upon it.”

Young Pablo tried to grasp the entire scene while holding on tight to the elder ninja. The elder ninja said a quick prayer of concentration to be able to convey a pure message and image into the young ones mind. Their feet were well off the ground.

They were suddenly moving up the familiar stairs of Pablo’s best friend’s house, where he just was earlier that morning. The ninja quickly moved past the still life of Chester, The Kids older brother, standing frozen at the doorway with a grin plastered on his face like a man battling with a thing that they understand, yet can not defeat. He stood frozen and motionless, like time had stopped, Pablo only heard him telepathically say two frightening words, “He’s gone”.

The room suddenly went still. All seven of the black clad ninjas were now frozen afloat in space, time was slowed to stillness. The young prodigy sat erect as a bronze statue in the center of the room. His eyes are open and staring forward at nothing, his legs crossed, a slight peaceful smile graced his lips, his back straight in meditative pose; he reminding the young Pablo of a Buddha statue. Pablo’s thoughts were the only thing moving in him, even moving his eyes slightly took a long time and a lot of concentration. He saw from the doorway, were he was frozen beside the still life of Chester, the seven ninjas break the frozen stillness and fall out of the air landing softly on their feet. They circled the kid cautiously and in awe inspected him from all angles. A loud pulsating rhythm, that Pablo thought could only be the synched heart rate of everyone in the vicinity beating in unison, thumped loud as if the seven ninjas also beat a giant drum together with pond fronds.

The ninjas were back in Pablo’s head reviewing the memories of The Kid telling him that all was still. Maverick began to cry. They were happy tears as the hair on everyone’s skin stood over goose bumps. The Kids older brother Chester stood still in the doorway unable to move but telepathically told the seven what he knew and what time the air began to still.

“What is going on?” Chester asked in thoughts.

Maverick responded coolly, ‘This is what we are to achieve, this is what we live for; he has attained such high speeds, that he has now connected all of the separate individual aspects of matter in the space around him. It is as if he is moving so fast he has become connected to all things and thus, a part of all things. He is now the pulse of infinity, the song of the universe, the ohm of our dimension.”

In the soft universal voice the ninjas recited in unison an ancient prophecy they all new by heart. “The child will go beyond the boundaries of gravity and see the truth of time and matter, the atom link to atom outward and inward infinitely. All things are connected. All matter in time holds a place for the fastest vessel were all time, and all matter, is still.” The ninjas recited the prophecy in shock. They never suspected they would repeat the eternal prophetic phrase in their lifetimes; none of the temple saw this coming. In the learning of mental flight, from wings, to light, to instant connections there are many incarnations and obstacles that one must understand and overcome before they can achieve the proper observation of infinity. “How fast is The Kid?” The ninja thought.

Pablo and Chester were in awe of the sacred ninjas being in awe. Still unable to move Pablo asked in thought, “Is he alive?”

Without hesitation Maverick’s voice could be heard teaching all other ninjas and those fortunate to be witnessing the cosmic event,

“He is very much alive. If we could truly understand reality this would happen to us, stillness. When the body and mind can move fast enough it reaches a speed beyond that of gravity and atomic separation bringing “The One” of all matter into view; now, The Kid is in the dimension of The One. Instead of moving through time/space, he is so fast, that he has connected to it all at once. He is moving but much to fast for us to see. He has gone, and might not come back. We can never know what he is witness too in his present state. The view of the shape of many dimensions, the view of dimensional history and future are privy only to him. We can only hope to learn one day. Stories as ancient as movement itself speak of ninjas who reach this state disappearing after three days. No one who has reached the eternal stillness, has ever decided to come back to tell of what they have seen. This, my friends, is the objective all ninja aspire to achieve.”

The seven ninja took each other hand in hand and, sitting in a circle surrounding the bronze statue of the kid, began to chant “Ohmmmm”. Their sounds vibrated the still hanging older brother and young Pablo who were still caught frozen in time and space, hanging, watching, and bearing witness to an event that has only been recorded three previous times since the beginning. No one wanted to blink as to not miss a moment, no one blinked. The energy of the room was charged with a vibrancy that made everyone glow with a soft white light; there was a certain sadness tucked behind the profoundly fascinating moment as it dawned on Chester that he might lose his little brother.

The chanting continued.

Outside the water molecules of a nearby stream ran over stilled salmon, a frog hung in mid leap; its swooping eagle predator held still in midair. For three days, the ninja prayed and meditated around the still bronze statue of The Kid. During the sunrise of the third day The Kid vanished, disappearing before the witness of the elder ninja’s unblinking open eyes. Pablo fell to the ground. A striking eagle swooped up a frog. The salmon ran.

Mark Stegman May 9, 2007

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

Just a funny excercise for writters...

Freyaphrodite — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 23:24:21 GMT

Just a funny excercise for writters...

You know you were raised by hippies when...

* Your name is Sensamailia, Spitfire, Rainbow, or the like.
* As a child, a nutritious snack consisted of your parents "stems and seeds" that were found lying on a tray on the living room table.
* the jungle of house plants, next to the television, served not only as a good hiding place for hide and seek when you were a kid, but they smelled nice too, especially when they were cut and hung to dry.
* when your parents tried to rid you of lice the "natural way," and none of the herbal remedies worked, they decided that the next best choice was to shave your head... which within it's self is fine, but the photos of you running bare ass naked and completely balled, resembling one of the aliens from Close Encounters, is a keepsake that has been shared with company one too many times!

Okay folks.... add to the list... when I thinnk of more I will post them. This should be fun!

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 2 replies

Writing Contest...

TouchRosesAhna — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 10:59:15 GMT

The Contest – Hosted by Art Created and I Touch Roses

Are you ready to get creative? I am holding a contest to find a great poem or short story. Here’s what you do… go through my cosmetics store and make note of product names such as “Caring”, “Haunted”, “Day Dream” and “Soul Mate”. Pick any 7 and write either a poem or short story using these words, then send it to me. On May 19th, 08 – I will pick 1 lucky winner. You have a chance of winning a prize package that will include the following items that I create: 3 eye shadows of your choice, 1 foundation powder, 1 bottle of blended perfume, 1 hand carved candle, 1 big bar of natural soap, 1 jar of Skin Euphoria body butter, incense plus other goodies and 1 pair of handmade earrings with matching pendant in sterling silver. This prize package is worth over $200!! So, get creative and start writing.

One entry per person.
All entries must be received by May 18th, 08.
E-mail your entry with the subject “The Contest” to: Ahna@ArtCreated.com
Be sure to list the 7 words you are using. Choose the 7 words from my product titles from my cosmetics store found at: http://ITouchRoses.Etsy.com
No purchase is needed!!
The winner will be featured on the following web sites:
http://ArtCreated.com
http://ITouchRoses.com
http://EclecticJewelryArtisans.com

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 3 replies

Some Writing Prompts

Jon — Wed, 16 Apr 2008 02:52:27 GMT

http://www.creativewritingprompts.com/

http://www.writersdigest.com/WritingPrompts/

happy writing!

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 1 reply

The Rhythm Keeps me Warm

drogulus — Fri, 18 Apr 2008 22:50:28 GMT

I float with no miseries,
granted be my heart's desires

My world's full of mystery
I listen to the choir

even more than my life line,
Those drums gonna keep me safe

They get stronger all the time
and my heart never needs to wait

The rhythm warms me deeply
the sweet vibrations shaking

Rocking my soul incredibly
Hear it finally waking!

Then tragedy of my life!
my world shatters in pain!

Mortally cut with a knife
cant even cry like the rain

Every piece is torn asunder
My suffering never ends

Even now... it's my thunder
It's my rhythm, It's my friend

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

Dear Jimi...

TouchRosesAhna — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 10:58:48 GMT

Oh Soul Mate, where did you go?
The mind plays tricks so how could I know?

Oh Soul Mate, where do I turn?
In my heart forever you burn.

Oh Soul Mate, I know you are the one…
But for reasons unknown, my love he did run.

With grief and despair, I cry in the cold night air…
Gazing up at the Moon, realizing you’re just not there.

Memory upon memory and I still talk to you in my mind.
But our love was not enough, you did find.

Oh Soul Mate, why push me so far away…
Without me, do you have a brighter day?

I feel so incomplete, haunted by this empty space and the loneliness I now face…
Everything inside me, feels so out of place.

And you claimed to be lost yet are running at any cost…
From a girl that loves you so…
Oh Soul Mate, why must you go?

(c) Ahna W. White
ArtCreated.com

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

Conclave Journal Call for Submissions

Valya — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 09:06:53 GMT

Conclave: A Journal of Character is accepting submissions for its inaugural issue, Fall 2008.
We will accept submissions from April 1-July 1, 2008.
www.conclavejournal.com

Conclave is an annual print journal that focuses on character-driven writing in short stories, flash fiction, creative nonfiction, poetry, and prose poems; we also print black and white photographs, and excerpts from plays: monologues, scenes, single acts, or one-act plays.

Conclave seeks writing that centers around well-crafted characters—complex and authentic: like Leopold Bloom, Huckleberry Finn, Anna Karenina, Hamlet, Miss Havisham, Hannibal Lecter, Hester Prynne, and others. Whether you love them or hate them, these characters are unforgettable and infuse their stories with life beyond the page. Those are the kinds of enduring characters we'd like to have populate the artfully crafted stories in Conclave.

For more information, see submission guidelines on our Web site.

Thank you.

Valya Dudycz Lupescu, Editor

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

posted new short short story at my site, check-check it out

mad mark — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 14:40:17 GMT

Howdyall, I hope yall would come by my site for a visit if ya like, sit a quick spell and read a while, I'll put coffe on. Yall take care now yhere. madmark

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 6 replies

Reviving all that I lost....

arielarchaicflame — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 09:26:34 GMT

My apologies to everyone for my silence, my computer crashed almost a year ago and all my poetry, erotica, short stories, and perhaps most important to me, 5 completed chapters of my autobiography got lost. The timing was infamous, during disk clean up and creation of back up files...Since it crashed and the entire operating system got corrupted, thank the gods it was able to boot up again. A dear friend of mine who is a computer engineer and programmer has been trying to restore all that I lost. Though the stories that I write both fiction and non fiction never entirely disappear for memory, creativity and experience never perish in the writers mind and spirit. This last year has been quite difficult, I've been truly fortunate to have found some of my journals which I keep safe like treasure which has many of my poems, some of my erotica, aspirations of short stories that I have not yet brought to life beyond the couple of paragraph dreams and my most important project, I recovered my second revision of my autobiography which is significantly shorter, scattered and cluttered then what I had achieved. Going from 57 pages and 5 chapters to almost 2 chapters of what remains of almost 3 years of rigorous work is neither easy to accept or easy to rebuild. I will post some of my poetry, erotica, and short stories when I'm able but I'm still looking for all that my computer swallowed up in the void of it's own demise in my cluttered hotel room and whirlwind of partially filled spiral notebooks.

Hugs,

Sincerely,
Ariel Archaicflame

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

Flightpath

JeanPowers — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 18:50:51 GMT

Flightpath By Jake Sanders

“The very truth, and the nature of things, though repudiated and ordered into exile, sneaked in again through the back door, to be received by me under an unwonted guise.” - Johannes Kepler December 27, 1571 – November 15, 1630

When a plane courses overhead
I think of loss
a time gone by
a rush of wind’s seduction
of propeller’s lust,
all vectors abandoned

This mention gets me wondering
Of who is in that plane
up there
Moving about all over the place
Stirring up the atmosphere
Her broken, cross-hatched
contrails
Of interruption

Not a day goes by that I don’t look up
And see a plane and think of you

They come in off the ocean, banking
Turning north-by-northwest
Towards that strip of concrete
The locals call an airport

Remembering now,
how that made you laugh
Imaging the possibility
Such an invention

Why just 93 years ago . . .

If I don’t see a plane right away
I hear it coming
A sound arriving in soaring pitch

The averaging math says
310 miles per hour
2 minutes 30 secs, 12 miles
wheels touching down in 10-15 seconds from here
over there
out of sight

In the passing, a
Displacement, a dis-
Course of
turbines aftermath
a backwash of calm
calculated

more math,
the speed of sound through air
1083 feet per second
a quarter mile every second

In warmer air, the speed of sound increases

seconds leave behind

a delay
, Doppler. *

A phantoming rush of wake

the sky tells me, to hussssh

My neighbor complains
Its a nuisance, lowers property values . . .

To me, reassuring

Another plane lands
And people come and go
You and I both
Our own way on first class stand-by

Different planes fly over
Some small, some big
Some low, some real low
So low I can see the writing on their bellies

If I were a terroristic sniper
I could pluck one or two from the sky
Before a government agency could
Trajectorize the bullet’s point of origin

“I did a guy in Laos from a thousand yards out with a rifle shot in high wind.
Maybe 8 or even ten guys in the world could’ve made that shot.”

But that’s not where I am right now
I am in that happy zone you used to kid me about

- wait, here come another plane

It’s not so much the actual plane and all those physics
Or even the people inside intrepid and traveling
And maybe its not you in the plane
But me in the plane

Conquering that fear of heights
Extreme heights
The fear of exposure
To knowledge
That we are just glowing blips
On a radar
And how we can just like that
Meet up for a cocktail
Is beyond me
I am over that now
But when I see a plane
I write like this

I could write a plane poem
Like the next plain guy
And it would never do any good
It is all so confusing

Instead I want to dwell
On our histories before the planes
All took off and landed
The couples hurrying off
To the hotel
To christen a safe flight

I’ve lived up there before
With all the metaphors for vice
pillow, extra blanket
A free drink
A pill
In flight film
With dreams attached

I still prefer the window view
Even at night
I’d look down
And see the lights, all the lights

The math and
Buzzing quartz

And think of you down there
All of you
Keeping the ground

Grounded.
____________________________________________________________________

* In 1725 James Bradley discovered the aberration of stars, that is the stellar aberration. He found that the displacement, measured as an angle between the real and seeming direction of light rays from a star, is small and in the direction of the observer's motion. In addition he discovered that the aberration is the consequence of the finite speed of light and the transverse motion of the observer.

Johann Christian Andreas Doppler (November 29, 1803 – March 17, 1853) was an Austrian mathematician and physicist, most famous for the hypothesis of what is now known as the Doppler effect which is the apparent change in frequency and wavelength of a wave that is perceived by an observer moving relative to the source of the waves.

"Über das farbige Licht der Doppelsterne und einige andere Gestirne des Himmels - Versuch einer das Bradleysche Theorem als integrirenden Theil in sich schliessenden allgemeineren Theorie"

(English translation: On the coloured light of the binary refracted stars and other celestial bodies - Attempt of a more general theory including Bradley's theorem as an integral part)

The Doppler Effect: A change in the observed frequency of a wave, as of sound or light, occurring when the source and observer are in motion relative to each other, with the frequency increasing when the source and observer approach each other and decreasing when they move apart. The motion of the source causes a real shift in frequency of the wave, while the motion of the observer produces only an apparent shift in frequency.

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 3 replies

'narrative' a set of rules or shared assumptions

JeanPowers — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 21:46:19 GMT

The idea is to build an essay over time. There will be overlap between parts, but the idea is to develop the crux of a more formal essay for submission to a conference or journal. I know, I know: lame!! But this is what I like.

I think we can call 'narrative' a set of rules or shared assumptions for structuring desire - that is, for focusing interest on certain things that aren't intrinsically interesting, e.g. whether Anna and Vronsky end up together, who or what exactly Eusa is, whether the buggers win or lose the war, how Grendel feels about his inevitable death, or what Dave and Toph do at the beach. The reader signs an implicit contract: I will accept your assertion, Author, that this stuff matters. You will work within this frame to make this stuff compelling. I will get something out of my investment. (But like any investor's contract, there's the risk of low return. So what does each novel affirm? What does it assert?)

Television works no differently. We get 'swept up' in a story at least in part because we want to - we are drawn to spectacle, to be sure, and we have built-in sympathies (or tendencies toward sympathy) for certain figures/situations (I can't bear to see fathers crying for their children, for instance). When you walk by an episode of Friends and are 'compelled' to sit down - it's 'Must See TV', right? - you're being pulled in half by a biological response to attractive people, and half (I imagine) by your wish to see people who blend beauty, wit, success, and unbelievable luck. Passing by Seinfeld as you flip channels, you are drawn to the experience of people doing and saying the most astonishing things and getting away with them.

But that's not why you stay with these programs. You stay because of the Contract - you trust that the narrative will satisfy the expectations set up within it. You arrived in the first place because of expectations that you brought with you. The process by which you become a Reader (which from now on I'll use as the generic term for 'interactor with a media text') is one of acculturation.

Lemme assert something that I'll come back to in a little while: at the heart of a contemporary TV narrative (we might say: 'genre TV' or 'cult TV') is a basic (linear) story into and out of which the plot moves. One of the key elements of serial TV narrative, one of its most uniquely satisfying qualities, is the tension that comes from a blurry line between the ongoing evolution of the characters (the 'organic' story of their lives) and the forward-motoring of the plot itself (what happens to them). With a novel, you can generally assume that you're always in the plot. Same with a movie. (Even in Gravity's Rainbow and Ulysses, the 'stories' such as they are are never really left behind. The saga of Byron the Bulb mirrors Slothrop's own state, enmeshed in the conspiracy, suspended between force and Counterforce...) Television moves on entirely different timescales, at the same time.

Fan culture can provide those alternate timescales. Because fan culture puts texts and culture into an explicit dialogue, essentially serializing a field of discourse. We might say the same thing for academics - who insist on placing themselves in one or another 'school', in order to give continuity to the start/stop progress of human ideation. (It's frightening to think that human history was totally unpredictable, that human thought is the same way. Maybe we built the universities for precisely that reason?)

This is the last bit for now: contemporary culture is becoming more 'fannish'. More and more, kids are able to involve themselves in 'fannish' ways with all manner of media texts.

A narrative like the Matrix series exemplifies this shift: when you talk about the movies, you find yourself talking about possibilities for their world, the meaning of their characters. The basic modes of watching the Matrix movies are seeking-spectacle fodder-for-exegesis. The former is the way we traditionally think of American moviegoers. The latter is how fans work. The balance is shifting.

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 1 reply

The poem that isn´t for you

SteFana — Fri, 22 Feb 2008 18:33:35 GMT

I have convinced the whole world
And myself
That when I cry
It isn´t for you.
I have told god and the full moon
That I have left,
Long departed.
Finished it is.
A new river now flows
So rapid, so full,
Why would I hold on the the shore?

And if you cared to ask,
I´d bring water from ten different wells
to convince you too-
Waiting I´m not.
Longin it isn´t. Not yearning.
It isn´t for you.

Because

How could it be
That moons come and go,
Rise and demise,
Oceans change tides,
Trees bloom, then leaf
And the weeping willow
Keeps crying over a spring in the past?

How could it be?

Not for you,
Not for you, love.
When I cry it isn´t for you.

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 1 reply

PSA: For US-based SASEs

Elissa — Sun, 16 Mar 2008 00:43:55 GMT

Given that snail-mail submissions/SASEs tend to have a several-month turnaround, here's the USPS list of new postage prices effective May 12, 2008:

http://www.usps.com/prices/welcome.htm?from=bannercommunications&page=prices

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

Writing Resources

Jon — Sat, 23 Feb 2008 09:55:51 GMT

http://www.poemhunter.com/

lists thousands of poems

++++++++++++++++

Poetry International

http://international.poetryinternationalweb.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/index.php?obj_name=international

great site for foreign poems, (everything translated), some videos of performances

+++++++++

Poetseers

site for spiritual poetry

http://www.poetseers.org/

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 3 replies

Somewhere in the Upper Cortex

JeanPowers — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 18:47:45 GMT

Somewhere in the Upper Cortex
by jake sanders

“Hume could write Latin with his right hand
While writing Greek with his left”

Somewhere in the Upper Cortex

the intention
to write begins

this is fairly abstract

writing begins with the intention
to want to write

intention converts into action
below the level of consciousness

this is still, fairly abstract

They call it semantic retrieval
A binary code pulled from a hard drive

A bullet from a gun
Letters form a ballistic line along a curved trajectory

Your hand, arm, eyes
A complex process of more than fifty muscles
A push-
pull action

an indiosyncratic security system

the monster in the den –

is out.

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

Cherry Bleeds Literary Awards

tonydushane — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 09:44:34 GMT

We've published online for eight years and have released an anthology entitled Chemical Lust as well as the chap, She Takes My Virginity.

But the past is a warm fart growing colder and we're stepping out our game.

$100 to a poem and $100 to a short story for the winners of the grand prize.

All winners will be published in the Cherry Bleeds anthology coming out in late 2008.

All winners will have the option to read on the radio show Drinks with Tony, which broadcast every Thursday on Pirate Cat Radio...previous guests include Irvine Welsh, Chuck Palahniuk, Richard Hell, Nick Cave, William T. Vollman, Amy Sedaris, Miranda July, James Ellroy, Mark Z. Danielewski, oh don't make me keep name dropping, just check out the website for full details and archives.

Full contest rules: http://cherrybleeds.com/contest.html

Make us proud. :)

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

WRITERS WANTED...

Richard — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 09:47:39 GMT

Poets, novelists, essayists, short story writers, playwrights, journalists...If you write and have a site that you would like to like to mine, then I would like to hear from you. A reciprocal link will seal the deal...PLUS you will also have access to my new blog, where you will be expected to post your excerpts and related material on a regular basis. Oh, wow! He’s got to be kidding! All of that FREE publicity and exposure!

Ayup...I have my reasons. But I’m also very interested in helping to promote my peers whenever and however possible. And my current project just worked out that way. So, if you interested, please get back to me ASAP. There will be limited space!

The 2 sites in question are as follows:

The Portfolio: http://rdklove.googlepages.com

The Portfolio Blog: http://rdkpf.blogspot.com/

Serious inquiries only, please.

RD Kennedy

For those of you who are NOT writers but enjoy quality literature, this also applies to you, because ALL visitors/readers WILL be allowed to post comments on the work they read. You may also know happen to know some writers, who are always looking for another place to promote their work and gain additional exposure. (We’re almost as bad as musicians!) Be SURE to spread the word and ask them to check this opportunity out, as well. You know how it works...

rdk1421@hotmail.com

(Please mention WRITERS WANTED in subject line!)

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

My Short, Short Story

J Timothy — Wed, 06 Feb 2008 07:50:49 GMT

Rachel? Who's Rachel? (or The Only Fight I Ever Tried To Pick)
by J Timothy Dotson - 2008
(a true tale)

I was at the bar. This was not my first beer. No. The empty mugs were gathering. Rachel broke up with me today. The problem was...I never knew we were together. How could this happen? I chugged the rest of my beer, motioned to the keep. He set a fresh one in front of me. I made him leave the empties...I was counting.
I had started out confused...but the more I thought, the more I drank. The more I drank, the less sense it made. How could Rachel break up with me if I did not know she was my girlfriend? It was very confusing. In my alcoholic haze, there was only one thing that made sense to me. Time to pick a fight. That was all there was to it.
I turned around on my barstool. I stood up, all 5'5" of me. I looked out across a sea of dancers....and way out in the middle floated a gray Stetson hat. It looked like a Tom Mix hat, but at least a foot or more above the rest of the crowd. There was my target!
So, I turned around and set my mug on the bar, then I pushed and elbowed and wormed my way through the crowd. I found myself looking up skyscraper-style at the ceiling fans towards the proximity of the large hat. I stood firm. And then I kicked this fellow in his left kneecap.
There was a curse and then a hopping on his right leg while holding his left knee...and then he stopped. I said "Let's take this outside , mister!"
There was a roar of laughter and a "Hahahohoha, I like you...yore really funny!" in a western cowboy drawl. He clapped me on the back so hard I almost swallowed my tongue.
"Let me buy you a drink, pardner!" He steered me to the bar with a huge hand, and bought me two...one for each hand. He had two as well. And then he said "Follow me, Shorty."
We went out the back door to a huge patio in the pine trees. He said "When I am feelin' persnickerty like you are, I do this!" He chugged his drink and then threw the glass hard through the trees. He said "Go on, do it." So I did. Then he said "Next one together!" We chugged and threw. "Feel better now?" I did. I had a new friend.

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

Pen Noir Accepting Submissions

thecumaensybil — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 17:09:10 GMT

Pen Noir is currently accepting submissions.
We publish poetry, short fiction, and creative nonfiction with a shadowy edge. This does not mean that your work should feature mass murder, S&M or suicide (though if that's what you write about, by all means, submit it). We're looking for work permeated by a dark aesthetic or sensibility. Traditional and experimental forms are welcome.

Length for prose: 8,000 words maximum.
For poetry: Submit between 1-4 poems.
No previously published work.

Submissions are read year-round. Our editorial staff is composed of volunteers, so please allow up to 6 months for a response. Once you are notified that your work has been accepted, it will appear on the webzine for one month. Simultaneous submissions are accepted, but notify us immediately if your work is accepted elsewhere. We wish we could offer payment, but cannot at this time.

Art Submissions are greatly encouraged. Please submit art via e-mail in .jpeg form.

All submissions must be submitted in the body of an e-mail to:

pen_noir@yahoo.com
www.pennoir.org

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 1 reply

On the Air

Elissa — Fri, 01 Feb 2008 22:36:40 GMT

I will be doing a phone interview tonight as part of the "Jordan Rich Show Book Club, Winter 2008 edition."

The interview will occur at around 12:30 a.m. Eastern Time on Saturday, February 2 (the show runs from midnight to 5 a.m.). It can be heard on

http://www.wbz.com/pages/6202.php

where you can click on the blue "Listen Live" button in the upper right.

I was at the WBZ studio in Boston for my first appearance on the Jordan Rich Show in October 2002. At that time Jordan invited me back when I had a book published -- so, here I am! The second volume in my series is due out later this year.

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 1 reply

Writer Selected as Amazon ABNA Semifinalist Needs Your Reviews/Votes!

Valya — Mon, 28 Jan 2008 15:27:58 GMT

My novel manuscript, THE SILENCE OF TREES, has been selected as a Semifinalist in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award. It's one of 836 excerpts chosen out of 5000 entries that were announced on January 15th.

My novel is set in Ukraine during World War II, as well as in Chicago in the present day. It draws upon the Slavic folklore and pre-Christian traditions of Eastern Europe.

This contest has been called the American Idol for Writers. Your review counts! So far, I'm in the lead but the other Semifinalists are quickly gaining. If you have a few moments, please visit the site and read and review my 14-page excerpt from THE SILENCE OF TREES.

The link is:
www.amazon.com/dp/B0011ZCAJC

The next stage of the competition asks Amazon customers to download, read, and review excerpts. Each review essentially counts as a vote, and the votes will be used in determining the top 100 Finalists, which will be announced on February 19.

Plus there are incentive prizes for reviewers!

For more information, you can also visit my website at www.thesilenceoftrees.com

I appreciate your review, as well as the reviews of anyone else you can forward this message on to.

Warm Regards,
Valya

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

Vanishing Posts?

Draco — Sun, 30 Dec 2007 20:01:39 GMT

Hey, I sent a poem here for some comments the other day, and now it has disappeared. I have no idea why. I asked the moderator, and he knows nothing about it.

Anyone else had this, what's going on?

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 7 replies

Acceptance to Unspeakable Horror anthology

Elissa — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 20:56:36 GMT

To round out an extraordinary publishing year...

This morning I got word that my story "Memento Mori" was accepted to the anthology Unspeakable Horror: From the Shadows of the Closet, to be published by Dark Scribe Press.

I've posted my publications tally for 2007 over at
http://hurricanecountry.blogspot.com/2007/12/tally-ho.html

Blessings to you all for 2008. Happy New Year and beyond!

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 2 replies

Circles

Sat, 05 Jan 2008 21:38:46 GMT

http://people.tribe.net/mystubenmyspec/blog/ac16f309-b9b3-4f45-ad09-256aaa34010f

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

Happy New Year!

Jon — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 15:09:53 GMT

Happy New Year Everyone!

Hope you all had a good New Year's and wishing everyone

new joy, hope and spirituality in the coming year!

My favorite image of Happiness is from Peanuts, when

Snoopy is dancing to some music and he's staring up at

the ceiling with a big grin on his face!

http://modernartobsession.blogs.com/modern_art_obsession/images/snoopy_dance.jpg

May All Our Hearts Dance With That Joy and Freedom!

posted in CREATIVE WRITING - 0 replies

The Last Time (poem)

Behr — Sun, 30 Dec 2007 19:27:12 GMT

The last time we kissed

wasn't really a kiss
more like a swing
and a miss

And the last "I love yous" we traded
left me broken and jaded

Said clear and true from the bottom of my suddenly desperate heart
returned with a squeak and a mumble
why you bothered to make a sound at all?

As if any louder and you might be heard all the way to Washington

Have no fear, no one heard what you hardly said
not even I, five feet away
standing in my threshold

That you had just crossed

And the last time we talked, it wasn't really a talking
just more of the same
one of us reaching out and the other one walking

I'm so heartbroke of longing for kisses
of half ass "I love yous" and near misses
I've no conclusion because my love has no end
like a poem unfinished, leaving an empty
hopeful curious and...

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some random writing I'm about to make up

Behr — Sat, 29 Dec 2007 04:16:07 GMT

It's been a long time since I wrote anything and I went to my files to drag something up but they were all on a hard drive that won't work for some reason so they're pretty much gone. Time to start over, I guess. Life is improv, and it's grand.

full puddles of searching fluid form intricate webs of firing flashes
electricity
signals flashing crashing sparks ignite an emotion
a quiet thunder crumbles trickster champion firelight flickering wick ticks tacky wax to the tocks and cracks
filling fuller than balloons breaking blanket barriers
they have become entities apart, galaxies cosmos worries and wars waged within

That was about how cold my toes are right now. I didn't want to ruin it by putting a title at the top because I like ambiguity. And alliteration :)

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Merry Christmas

Jon — Sun, 23 Dec 2007 14:33:37 GMT

Merry Christmas!

http://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/picture-of-month/graphics/large/christ_blessing_haydon.jpg

Have A Nice Holiday Everyone!

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