Originally published on Reedsy Discovery. Flores' memoir is a stunning collection of prose and fragments which, through the use of the ocean as an extended metaphor, document the end of two relationships and the beginning of another when all is thought to be lost. "But so much of any love is questioned because of other … Continue reading Review of We Died in Water, Meg Flores
The afternoon stretched its limbs into the evening, leagues past noon: a sky the texture of candy floss and the colour of a brewing storm. Wind buffeted the waves as the tide retreated far out, slipping away from the estuary and into the ocean’s recesses. Wind buffeted my face, spinning locks of hair … Continue reading Saturday: on a bench
My poem ‘Little Things’ appears in issue no. 7 from Turnpike Magazine ❤
We are happy to release Issue No. 7 of Turnpike Magazine.
We thank you for your continued support. We have found that our issues just keep building on top of one another – in theme, content, and quality. We have had the privilege of working with hundreds of contributors, and look forward for the hundreds more to follow. Keep supporting small literary and art magazines, as some of the best work lies within their pages.
Contributor Names + Bios:
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FVR is open for submissions!
To new and regular contributors to Free Verse Revolution, the October submissions window is open!
The theme will be Healing and it can be interpreted in any way you wish; whether that be the healing process – physically and mentally, writing about strength and hope, or what you wish for yourself in the future.
I accept poetry and short pieces of prose which interpret the theme of the month in some way, and only one piece from each writer; but you may send up to three pieces for consideration.
Send your submissions to myscreamingtwenties@gmail.com
October’s theme: Healing
Interpret the theme any way you wish; you do not need to use the word as a title. Pieces may be previously published.
Submission format: poem/short prose should be attached via email as a Word Document or Google Doc. Please refrain from pasting it into the email as this makes formatting…
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Several days ago, I promised myself I would write more. Prose in particular. I even began by writing ‘write’ on my to-do list (because I write more to-do lists than poems these days). It remains unchecked. A gloomy, dull circle waiting to be ticked; to be acknowledged by my brain fumbling around its inner recesses … Continue reading To-do lists
I imagine you see us as a bridge to be crossed. A small adventure from point A to B with no regard for maps or the geography of the land; how my summit reaches higher into the sky, moated round with ravines dressed in jagged edges. You pay no heed to the warning signs. The … Continue reading Point B.
My contribution to the I Am the Woman series on Heretics, Lovers and Madmen ❤
I am the woman
your mother warned you about;
fire-breathing, Jolene auburn,
cradled by the night
and the ever waning moon
melting like candle wax
into my palms.
I am the woman
too many men have kept
secret and hidden;
I spent too long
looking at love
through the underside
of a glass bottomed boat
swallowing seawater,
bitter and sweet.
I am the woman
who blossomed beneath
the heavy thud of fists;
who learned to lie
better than love
and wear scorn in
my half-chewed smile.
I am the woman
your mother warned you about
because in my eyes
she sees her own.
Kristiana Reed is a writer and an English Teacher living in the UK. She is the creator of My Screaming Twentieson WordPress and she recently released her debut poetry collection, Between the Trees. Her work has been published in several poetry anthologies (Swear To Me…
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Part 1 & Part 2 "Thank you, I'll be okay." She reassured the woman by her side. "This happens sometimes. I shouldn't have been standing in the middle of the aisle like that. Honestly, it's fine." The kind lady's frown relaxed into a smile and she took the fallen woman's hands to help her up … Continue reading Platforms & aisles (3)
Part 1 "Oh, sorry!" The wayward wheels of a trolley plunged into her ankles, causing her to stumble; shattering the isolation she had enclosed herself within. Pain seared up her shins and her thighs. - An alarm blared. Red lights swung lucidly, signalling a breach on the track. If the delays were not bad enough, … Continue reading Platforms & aisles (2)
The station was rammed with impatient thoughts commuting to and from every nerve ending in my body. Colossal screens blinkered with new information every two minutes or so; the fluorescent orange text stinging my retinas. Several delays had been announced and the transport centre was yet to decide when normal service would be up and … Continue reading Platforms & aisles (1)
