Blinking cursor, waiting impatiently. Write something. Anything. Come on! Straight black line, standing sentinel, an old friend. We’ve danced this tango so many times before. You know me and I know you. You know it takes me a minute, but I always get there. Have I ever let you down? Let myself down? Sure. Nearly… Continue reading The cursor and I
Tag: Poetry & Prose
Weathering the storm
When the wind lashes at the trees it sounds like rain. Close your eyes and there’s a whole storm out there. That’s what it’s like inside my mind. The reality is just a bit of wind blowing the trees, but my mind convinces me that it’s an horrendous storm that I can’t weather. Opening the… Continue reading Weathering the storm
Panic
(TRIGGER WARNING FOR ANXIETY) Overwhelming rush of blood surges through your body. This isn’t unfamiliar. A old friend turned foe. The rising from your stomach to your chest, you’re sure you’re going to vomit. Vomit all the black stuff that sits inside you, poisoning you. When did this black monstrosity get inside? What did you… Continue reading Panic
Glory
Should I be ashamed that winning makes me feel this good? That applause and acclaim is what I chase? Adorn me with medals, shower me with praise, so that I may feel something akin to glory, instead of the same sad story of loss. I can’t gloss over this moment of triumph and desire. A… Continue reading Glory
Sleepless Summer Slumber
I slept in today. Only until 8am, which to some isn’t much, but it’s something. I don’t usually get a chance to have the bed to myself. Working in a school, means I’m often out of bed before my husband. There’s something quite nice about a double bed to yourself. All that space. You can… Continue reading Sleepless Summer Slumber
Black and Bloodied (a poem)
It should never have become the norm For children to see other children Black and bloodied From bombs brutally bombarding Their innocent childhood. Frolicking freely Is a luxury these children can’t afford. Does brown skin equal sin Still? We mourn the white dead But place tape on our mouths If the child is brown. Don’t… Continue reading Black and Bloodied (a poem)
‘I Think, Perhaps’ (a short story)
By S. R. Crawford Attending your own funeral is not only allowed but encouraged. Best to accept one’s death in witnessing those who have come to mourn you. Of course, you mourn yourself, too. All the things you weren’t. All the things you’ll never be, now. I thought too much. I wished with all my… Continue reading ‘I Think, Perhaps’ (a short story)
A Writer Be (poem)
Who are you If you can’t stitch sentences slowly With real intention and wonder? A world rife with the unfair and cruel Become words on my page. Awakened and raw They hold everything And nothing. Maybe my wants are too cruel, too Because how can I capture A memory? A place? A person? Isn’t it… Continue reading A Writer Be (poem)
Mommy’s little girl (poem)
Mommy’s little girl Stands silently aside Never fussing or fretting Hides what’s inside. Mommy’s little girl Has a voice unheard Whispering. Screaming. A fiery bird. Mommy’s little girl Doesn’t know who she is This Phoenix of power That comes from within. Mommy’s little girl Has a story to tell But mommy is speaking And we… Continue reading Mommy’s little girl (poem)
Call Your Mom (a poem)
Your mom’s first tears Throws the world upside down Time running in reverse A metamorphosis of status Who is this person? So human and vulnerable Do I offer a shoulder? A tissue? Advice? It doesn’t make sense. Mom’s don’t do this. Mom’s aren’t in need! Experiment: get the microscope See beneath the veil of thick… Continue reading Call Your Mom (a poem)
S. R. Crawford 