Creative Writing Commons^™

Clown School In France, Lee Kisling

Bryant Literary Review

How do these two things fit together--
the rain falls on the just and the unjust, and yet

Class Mate, John Kristofco

Bryant Literary Review

"Hey, has anybody seen my Hawthorne?" Terrence Terrill poked his head into the small living room.

Zoot: A Rondel, Philip Dacey

Bryant Literary Review

In '42, Los Angeles banned the zoot suit.

Crime came woven into the clothes some wore.

Drownproofing, Tom Chandler

Bryant Literary Review

Just cup your hands

and peel back

water like sky.

Saguaro, Dennis Saleh

Bryant Literary Review

The desert night

touches the air

like the perfume

of a woman

Rhetor, Dennis Saleh

Bryant Literary Review

"Words fail me." Why read further then?

Well, because you see the words do continue,

A Wake, Carol Harada

Bryant Literary Review

It's good to see the body, to know the difference. This bruised shell, with the jaw wanting to flap open, is not she.

An Element Of Style, Charles Sabukewicz

Bryant Literary Review

A noun by definition

can be almost anything:

Ice, Holly Guran

Bryant Literary Review

You are no companion

for this aging lover

lying in wait under snow.

War Story, Brian Taylor

Bryant Literary Review

A barrage of bullets sprays through the air,

crossing the battlefield as the enemy pushes forward.

Curly*, Nora Barry

Bryant Literary Review

He sits on the ground his long hair flowing in the breeze. Beside him is the burial scaffold of his child.

Mommy What Is War For?, Ellen

Bryant Literary Review

One rainy day some people get scared

spill drips of innuendos

Luke's Dad, Cari Oleskewicz

Bryant Literary Review

Ellen needs a drink, and wants to slap her sister for suggesting a fountain soda at the food court.

Alzheimer's, Theadora Siranian

Bryant Literary Review

At night an ancient giant with smooth blue skin

pulls the stopper from the bottom of the world,

The Man Who Shoots Stop Signs, William Jolliff

Bryant Literary Review

Standing alone on a dark road, maybe he believes

the new ones are virgins, too hard to resist.

Nancy Underwood, Mitch Lescarbeau

Bryant Literary Review

Or it may have been Susan.

Second grade; 1958--

Where The Grass Is Greener, Paul Sohar

Bryant Literary Review

Although very little of the late April sunshine actually wedged itself down to the pavement, the narrow streets of lower Manhattan

The Fishing Trip, David Dragone

Bryant Literary Review

The waves came up on shore, speaking in tongues

While I waited for the ocean's pitched language

The Madness Of Ida Mae, Christine Bagley

Bryant Literary Review

I stood in line at Stop & Shop in my Liz Taylor wig and a tight yellow pantsuit that pulled across my fanny like an ace bandage.

What It Takes, Lisa Starr

Bryant Literary Review

All it takes is one blue rowboat tied to a buoy,

and its reflection, and this moment

Learning To Shoot At Things That Moved, Rick Benjamin

Bryant Literary Review

Soup-cans, tires searing in the summer

air, coke bottles so old the red rubbed

Late Projection, Rick Benjamin

Bryant Literary Review

My twin turns toward the camera

he's propped into the elbow

At The Eye Doctor's, Stephen R. Roberts

Bryant Literary Review

The doctor asks me to read

the eye chart, line five.

I think it begins with D

Symbolon, Dwayne Thorpe

Bryant Literary Review

A sheep's knuckle

cracked in two,

half to me

half to you.

Neighbor Kid, Bob Davis

Bryant Literary Review

Neighbor kid is so weird, that I know his name

but think of him as "neighbor kid."

Photos Of Cuteness Flash Around The World, Charles (Harper) Webb

Bryant Literary Review

Owen, the rescued baby hippo, mistakes

a giant male tortoise, Mzee, for his mom.

Sleeping God, V. P. Loggins

Bryant Literary Review

On the ninth day of creation God

Had already slept for 63 hours.

Aunt Josie, Janet Proulx

Bryant Literary Review

Favored form-fitting blouses,

pencil skirts and strappy-heeled shoes,

Foxley's Progress, Michael Washburn

Bryant Literary Review

August 20, 2014

Dear Lance,

This letter has come with no return address.

Remembered, John Grey

Bryant Literary Review

Years and months and days

fade into one another.

Only moments survive the chaos