Writing In A Woman's Voice

Old House by Karen Friedland Nothing ever comes out as planned— the projects, the objects never look quite as promised and ...

Dust Bowl on t.v. by Karen Friedland Look what you did, fools! You ripped up my protective coat— 15 inches of Buffalo gra...

Words to prey by by Eve Dobbins Words of prey A snail crawls by Caddy corner to my feet Like a verbal tit-for-tat He encr...

Human Vortex by Eve Dobbins Wild winds shriek through the trees As the world continues its deluge upon our senses No longer o...

The Window by E J Randolph “When did you say your wife would be back?” “I didn't.” “But-” “Don't worry so much. Com...

The Swing by Elise Stuart We sit on the swing on the back porch. It is night—always night with my mother. We have matching su...

Burnt by Elise Stuart My grandma likes to burn food. She burns toast on a regular basis, teaching me to love the slightly bla...