The Wood
Today’s poem generated by the memories of childhood: trekking beyond our cornfield to the clearance in the woods to camp out. It was a thrill to sleep in the woods…
Essays and Poetry by Barbara Powell
Today’s poem generated by the memories of childhood: trekking beyond our cornfield to the clearance in the woods to camp out. It was a thrill to sleep in the woods…
Part 1: I could not see the lines on the highway but your hand pressed onto my leg fingers curling against my knee, the heat of your body fooling the…
What is the purpose of each passing moment when all I can think about is You. The day wraps me close into her warming arms and the smile forming…
A cold kitchen (that I never knew before this weekend) and a hot cup of coffee from a mug that’s never seen my lips. A dog perched at my feet,…
Written by: Joe Powell . Joe is Babs’ Irish Twin. He is exceptionally creative, captivating, humorous, and indeed eclectic. You will see more from him, here. Enjoy his latest poem:…
She’s a wreck in this world an app-driven kingdom of photos to swipe left or right, saying: take me or leave me. How did you meet, a friend asks…
Samantha has passion. You know the type: the one who loves to love. Her heart is big and her laughter is pure magic– once she starts laughing, you’ll be naturally…