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Full-Text Articles in Creative Writing
Ire Man, James B. Nicola
Midnight Run To Nacogdoches, Robert L. Penick
Midnight Run To Nacogdoches, Robert L. Penick
Westview
He is sitting in a fast food restaurant, pining for a woman who has never had an original thought in her life. It is Christmas Eve, and she is five hundred miles away, celebrating with her new in-laws. He is a damned fool, but hasn’t quite realized it yet.
Naming Southwest Oklahoma, Molly Sizer
Naming Southwest Oklahoma, Molly Sizer
Westview
Young Andrew Carnegie invested years steeling money; in his old age, he built imposing music halls on the east coast and libraries in rural towns out west.
New Barista, Dennis Ross
New Barista, Dennis Ross
Westview
She moves like a half-grown colt, all legs and skinny arms…
Princesses, Donna L. Emerson
Princesses, Donna L. Emerson
Westview
First grade girls are deciding who’s a princess. They say I’m not one.
Promise, Jack Cooper
Promise, Jack Cooper
Westview
Her hands looked old boney and bruised but her face young her cheeks blushed her eyes wandering
Skippings Rocks, Chad W. Lutz
Skippings Rocks, Chad W. Lutz
Westview
There’s a place in town where the only two roads meet, marked by an old sycamore. Its bark is blotchy, and the few limbs it has left reach for the sky like the pleading arms of a dying man.
Summer Thunderstorm, Richard Dinges Jr.
Summer Thunderstorm, Richard Dinges Jr.
Westview
A cold pierce, bolts crack sky’s lids, a brief glimpse at eternity
The Choice Is Mine, John Grey
The Choice Is Mine, John Grey
Westview
I wear mismatched clothes, fill the sink with dirty dishes, sit and watch football on the TV until all hours
The Pie Lady, Shiann Dawson
The Yellow Porch Swing, Aimee Klein
The Yellow Porch Swing, Aimee Klein
Westview
The smell of honeysuckle carried on a breeze the soft squeak
Trash, Eleanore Lee
Trash, Eleanore Lee
Westview
To find where the Johnsons used to live, You have to turn up the old dirt road, Hang left, then go on past the splintered gate
Villanelle: Flood Time, Eleanore Lee
Villanelle: Flood Time, Eleanore Lee
Westview
The skies above just opened up, hear how the torrent roars… On city streets, through parks and lots, our stains are washed away.