B o n e S a i l e rB o n e S a i l e rB o n e S a i l e r in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Here I lay between cotton and skin. Bones and ash of what was and what is to become.
I harbor names, like ships they sail into my mouth and mind. My own has flown far away on western winds. My time has slipped from my g r a s p.
I cannot wait here for it to return to me.
Nameless among faceless greedy hands that grindgrindgrind against me gnawing like teeth. My bones were given to another and I am rebuilt.
Polycarbonate skeleton, like my bike I am custom factory made.
What Really MattersWhat Really Matters; An Internal DialogueWhat Really Matters in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
By Yazmine Tatiana
I've pondered this question for a long time. An age perhaps because a month is an age too. What really maters? It is what really matters most to me right? To me? To you?
My flaw arose like a winged angel of artistic stalemates, sword in hand to dash whatever concepts I had from my conscious. I wasn't going to write some poem about what matters to me, I was going to right a poem that mattered to my audience. Something to tug their heart strings, raise them with a wave of emotion and pull them under the tide of greater philosophy.
Alas, no, t'was not so I faced the book and tweeted a whistle for my cause asking for answers, grasping for straws. Sure that any listeners would have a slice to say and therefore write my piece.
Between the he's and the ha's and the ho's I learned what matters most to the host of people that had gathered to my open forum.
Family, friends, self and god. They found their way in between bagels, cookies
a.sweet.reminiscenceThat sweater still smells like you...a.sweet.reminiscence in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This