Where poetry and stories collide.

The Sea (prose)

Sunshine or rain, These waves will continuously crash against the shore. Life goes on.


Lost Tribes (prose)

Homeless. Lacking of identity, Can't be classified as Other, Cocooned under the umbrella of Black. Not Caribbean enough to be Caribbean, Or so my family reminds me. I am a direct descendant. First generation- Once removed from home. Not African... Continue Reading →

Rendezvous (microfiction)

She had no business being here. Meeting him risky, beyond risky. But here she stood, alone at the bottom of the escalator questioning whether it was too late; knowing in her heart it already was. Welcome to week 106 of... Continue Reading →

Raindrops (poem)

Pit. Pat. Pit Pat. Raindrops hit the old screen on the window. Pit. Pat. Pit-pit-pat. Sounds should soothe... Pit. Pat. Pit-pit-pit-pat. Echoes sounding off in my mind Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. The rain signals his return. Pit. Pat. Pit-pit-pit. Pat.... Continue Reading →

Lemonade (poem)

You are the love of my life. Stop giving me the rest of you. Stop giving me the remnants. Only coming to me when your souls in need of refilling, Forever giving me the bitterest of the rind. I find... Continue Reading →

Perfect. (Short Story)

Elizabeth groggily turned off her alarm and rolled out of bed to get dressed for work. Her conversation the day before with Lauren had lifted her spirits more than she thought it would. She'd missed her friend, more than she... Continue Reading →

Table Talk (short story)

Elizabeth and Lauren exchanged small talk for a while. Each testing the waters to see if it was safe to venture deeper. She could sense the hesitancy in Lauren to pry. The last time they'd talked Lauren had made an... Continue Reading →

Chapter 11: The Mists

Chapter 11 of Sleeper Cell Angela led the way to the former Dr. Loveitt's condo. When they arrived Justin jimmied the lock and a couple minutes they found themselves looking into a very posh living room. Justin looked at Angela,... Continue Reading →

Hands of Time (poem)

Cradled in the palm of my hands, Time. Fragile and fleeting, I steal moments with you, I've stolen lifetimes with you. I've stolen time itself, In the form of your lips. Winsome photocred

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