Creative Writing Commons^™

Grace Like Snow, Jessica Lowe

Honors Capstones

No abstract provided.

The White Hydrangeas, Larry O'Brien

Bryant Literary Review

You notice them first while getting the mail,

in the airless heat of an August noon,

Life On Mars, Eileen Russell

Bryant Literary Review

Chapter One

I knew I'd barely survive an eight-hundred mile road trip with Bill and Fran, from the tip of Florida's peninsula

Come To Bed, Geoffrey Jarok

Bryant Literary Review

It's a sad day for woman.

She sees dreams,

Like a debtor looks at bills.

Go Gentle Into That Good Night (After Dylan Thomas), Bart Edelman

Bryant Literary Review

Please, please, go gentle into that good night,

Old age should never burn at close of day;

Surabaya Animal Market, David Pinault

Bryant Literary Review

In loving memory of

Paul George Pinault

1947 - 2011

The trim lancet window with the elegantly etched lettering

Mozart, B. Z. Niditch

Bryant Literary Review

You came to me

early

like butterflies

in my secret universe,

The Swings On Crane Avenue, Parker Williams

Bryant Literary Review

He loved them,

would sit there for hours and dream about flying,

Apple For Your Thought Processes?, Eric Cisternelli

Bryant Literary Review

Like hundreds of flies to a carcass

Sacrificing money at an altar,

C. Bowen, Plumber, Paul Hostovsky

Bryant Literary Review

I like this guy

before we even meet.

He's the only one

Moon Rise, John P. Kristofco

Bryant Literary Review

when colors and their implications fade

into the twist of trees,

The Referee, David Alan Goldstein

Bryant Literary Review

Martin Abramson believed that very small, innocuous and seemly trivial acts were the key

Miss Mercy, C. Sanchez-Garcia

Bryant Literary Review

"How does it feel, where you are?"

"It's okay. You keep it cool in here."

Rebel In A Plaid Skirt, Janet Proulx

Bryant Literary Review

She moved robotically through junior high

learned by rote, kept imagination in check,

Shells, Barbara Mackay

Bryant Literary Review

today I walk a sullen beach

its sand a deep gray

had it once been white

Weather Wins, Francine Witte

Bryant Literary Review

It always does. Big blow

from the latest tornado?

That's just nature clearing

Going-Away Party, Elton Glaser

Bryant Literary Review

Inside the white envelope, I find

An invitation to my death.

You can steam off the stamps,

Who Is We?, Kevin Mcintosh

Bryant Literary Review

Patrick Lynch is passing back personal narratives to his second period. He used to call them memoirs,

Junior Munson Does The Long Haul, Elton Glaser

Bryant Literary Review

I like to start my mornings

Sunnyside up at a truckstop,

The Propensity For Monologue, John Sibley Williams

Bryant Literary Review

I'd like to be a sparrow,

bring new morning

each time I speak.

To Ansel Adams, John Sibley Williams

Bryant Literary Review

It could have been

color

if mountains and dreams

What Jupiter Knows, Wendy Smith-Stenhouse

Bryant Literary Review

Thing is... Nobody cares less about me missing the Junior Spring Fling than me. But Blaine, with his beer stink and lolling eyeballs,

The Cow Near Matamoros, Carol Hamilton

Bryant Literary Review

Tied to her terror,

her placid, brush-haired sides

so like a back room

Fountain, Josh Wardrip

Bryant Literary Review

In those days I would take the #3 downtown where I spent my afternoons having lunch at one of the little diners

Open At 10:00 A.M., Ron Koertge

Bryant Literary Review

I burst into the Gap on the morning

after Labor Day and surprise

the pretty clerks giggling,

Taking Liberties, Jim Hart

Bryant Literary Review

Geography

is melting

Glaciers

My Son Dreams That, As We Fished For Pumpkinseeds, A Shark Ate Me, Charles Harper Webb

Bryant Literary Review

Did I hook the shark, and it yanked me in?

Did it leap, and pluck me off the pier?

Yesterday's Tongue, John Mckernan

Bryant Literary Review

Its syllables

Dripping to the brown earth

Small Blue Butterflies, Buff Whitman-Bradley

Bryant Literary Review

On a walk around the lake

I pause to watch three small blue butterflies

Alone, Ron Koertge

Bryant Literary Review

Maybe it's just the kind of poetry I've been reading,

but I can't help noticing how alone most poets are: