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stephentotheplate

Where poetry and stories collide.

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3linetales

Flexin’ Sundays (microfiction)

Sundays were for flexin', the day for showing off your Sunday best. Your best shoes, clothes, hair freshly pressed or afro fluffed to perfection.  Sure, they were there for church; but no one said you couldn't shine a little on... Continue Reading →

Forms of Intelligence (microfiction)

He watched as another couple passed by. Hands locked, he barely overheard the man say, "Look at that robot, he reminds me a lot of you. Stoically awaiting my commands." He watched as the woman's head lowered in shame, she... Continue Reading →

Little Lights (Poem)

Little lights cradled in palms, Wishes, hopes, dreams, symbolized by the little, glowing, flame. Small, fragile, extinguishable. Still, they place those little lights inside those papery lanterns, Smiling, as they sail off into the sky. Welcome to week 125 of... Continue Reading →

Wastelands (poem)

Barren lands echo back to times of plenty. The time of fruitful pastures and gentle slopes, pastoral scenes, long since past. Cracked, dry, dirt and sullen cries; Symbolic vestiges of my life since you left. Welcome to week 127 of... Continue Reading →

“Old Verona” (Microfiction)

She sat beside her husband as the gondola glided through the water. Before their ride, her husband told her that in hundred years, this beautiful city would be underwater. Looking around at the brightly colored walls, the laundry hanging from... Continue Reading →

“From Blue to Gray” (Microfiction)

She remembered where she was the day the bombs fell. She remembered what she wore, the bright colors that donned the awnings above the windows, she remembered holding her mother's hand and laughing. What she could never remember is the... Continue Reading →

Dancing in the Moonlight (short story)

It was just supposed to be a regular date night, dinner and maybe a movie if it wasn't too late. How they ended up under a bridge with the car radio blaring and her twirling to King Harvest, he'd never... Continue Reading →

Snapshot (microfiction)

Jane gazed at the painting while the curator monotonously droned on about modern art. "Gazato wanted to capture the blurring of humanity in the rush of everyday life. The loss of self..." The blurring of humanity...the rest of the tour... 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 →

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