Somewhere in a Dark Auditorium

Somewhere in a Dark Auditorium

A ballerina will not stop
inserting her small foot
into a slim pink shoe,
crisscrossing silk ribbons
over the bone of ankle.
Sometimes I slip into the inside
of her body, where the soul
wells into the walls that cup
the music, quivering there
like a diver in a swarm
of tropical fishes, her shape brushed
with undulations of hunger
and wonder, a hundred bodies
of tremulous light. The dancer’s shoes
fill with flesh; her flesh
brims with music. What can she do
with such hunger, such sadness?
What can her body do
but tremble and spill
into dance?

— Linda Tomol Pennisi, author of Seamless

T. S. Poetry

Winner of the 2003 Perugia Press Prize, SEAMLESS is the impressive debut poetry collection by Linda Tomol Pennisi. The poems approach the slippery and subtle areas between beauty and darkness, between sanity and disorientation, between hunger and survival, and in so doing create a coherent story about the grace and fragility of being human. Pennisi’s light touch and restraint set these poems apart. Her language is masterful, varied, musical, sexy, and precise.


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Pure Haiku – Wolf


Teeth grow and hair sprouts

Muscles strengthen, Sinew twists

Man is wolf again.

D.B. Mauldin

10 – 7

Source: 10 – 7

Haiku Challange #65

Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge

Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge #65

Harp & Clear


The sweet, clear music

coming from the Angels Harp

soothes my weary heart.

D.B. Mauldin


Mama used to harp,

‘Listen and hear me clearly,

Don’t slouch your shoulders!’

D.B. Mauldin

The Dragon Tempest

Dragon Tempest Buy

The Dragon Tempest: Tales of Fantasy & Adventure (DKC Contest Anthology Book 2)   

The Dragon Tempest offers a collection of short stories in a variety of fantasy genres, including dark, light, adventure, and epic. Creatures from all worlds abound: dragons, angels, centaurs, witches, gods and goddesses, and those lurking below the water’s surface. Whether you’re moved by tales of battle and bloodshed, suspense, humor, or enlightenment, The Dragon Tempest will leave you craving more from each author. Such a diversity of great fantasy tales to enjoy will leave no room for disappointment.

Allison D. Reid
KJ Hawkins
D.B. Mauldin
Joshua Robertson

1st Place Winners
Christine King
Katie Roxberry
Winter Bayne
Jane Dougherty
Wilson F. Engel, III

2nd Place Winners
Christine Haggerty
Randall Lemon
Deborah Jean Anderson
J. Abram Barneck
Louise Findlay

3rd Place Winners
Samuel Milner
Karen Brown

I am honored to have two short stories published in “The Dragon’s Tempest.”

Following is an excerpt from, “Queen of the Faeries”

The concert had been great. Aine and Dorrian made their way backstage to try to get a glimpse of the band members. Aine had fallen ‘head over heels in love with the band’s bass guitar player, Iarl Fitzgerald. Dorrian rolled her eyes at Aine. She was always falling ‘head over heels’ in love with somebody.

“There he is!” exclaimed Aine. She grabbed Dorrian’s arm and started leading her in Iarl’s direction.

As if he had heard her, Iarl looked up, right at Aine. Their eyes locked and Iarl walked toward Aine, meeting her halfway. Aine let go of Dorrian’s arm as she reached out to shake hands with Iarl.

“Hi! I am Aine. I just wanted to tell you that I love the way you play your bass guitar.”

Iarl smiled. Aine’s heart did a flip-flop; his smile made him even more gorgeous. He had a serious face, very cute, but serious. His shoulder-length, blonde curls framed his gorgeous face. His dark-green eyes were deep-set, giving him the overall appearance of a man who did not smile or laugh easily.

Still holding Aine’s hand in his, he turned and led them to his dressing room. There were other people bustling about and Dorrian joined them. Iarl sat Aine down in a chair next to his. He turned to look at her, and spoke for the first time.

Following is an excerpt from, “The Elementals Save Mother Earth”:

The ghost of Paracelsus roamed the earth. Never had he seen the earth in such a terrible state. The land was dry and ravaged by fire. Paracelsus knew the salamanders were thriving, but they were the only elemental to do so. Pollution inhabited the waters and air to the point that they were poisonous. They were losing the battle to help keep the earth livable for humans

Mother Earth had awoken Paracelsus.

“Paracelsus, I beg of you to arise from your resting place. I desperately need your help,” she had said.

Paracelsus did as Mother Earth asked. He stood looking around the devastation, wondering where to start.

“The four elemental forces are going to have to work together to clean up this mess,” Paracelsus muttered to himself.

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Sonnet 73

Sonnet 73

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by.
This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.

— William Shakespeare, from The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition

T. S. Poetry

Hailed by The Washington Post as “a definitive synthesis of the best editions” and by The Times of London as “a monument to Shakespearean scholarship,” The Oxford Shakespeare is the ultimate anthology of the Bard’s work: the most authoritative edition of the plays and poems ever published.

Now, almost two decades after the original volume, Oxford is proud to announce a thoroughly updated second edition, including for the first time the texts of The Reign of Edward III and Sir Thomas More, recognizing these two plays officially as authentic works by Shakespeare. This beautiful collection is the product of years of full-time research by a team of British and American scholars and represents the most thorough examination ever undertaken of the nature and authority of Shakespeare’s work. The editors reconsidered every detail of the text in the light of modern scholarship and they thoroughly re-examined the earliest printed versions of the plays, firmly establishing the canon and chronological order of composition. All stage directions have been reconsidered in light of original staging, and many new directions for essential action have been added. This superb volume also features a brief introduction to each work as well as an illuminating General Introduction. Finally, the editors have added a wealth of secondary material, including an essay on language, a list of contemporary allusions to Shakespeare, an index of Shakespearean characters, a glossary, a consolidated bibliography, and an index of first lines of the Sonnets.

Compiled by the world’s leading authorities, packed with information, and attractively designed, The Oxford Shakespeare is the gold standard of Shakespearean anthologies.




City Lights


City Lights

My father, rather a quiet man,
told a story only the one time,
if even then—he had so little
need, it seemed, of being understood.
Intervals of years, his silences!
Late in his life he recalled for us
that when he was sixteen, his papa
entrusted to him a wagonload
of hogs, which he was to deliver
to the train depot, a half-day’s ride
from home, over a hilly dirt road.
Lightly he held the reins, light his heart,
the old horses, as ever, willing.
In town at noon he heard the station-
master say the train had been delayed,
would not arrive until that evening.
The boy could only wait. At home they’d
wait for him and worry and would place
the kerosene lamp in the window.
Thus the day had turned to dusk before
he turned about the empty wagon,
took his weary horses through the cloud
of fireflies that was the little town.
In all his years he’d never seen those
lights—he thought of this, he said, until
he and his milk-white horses came down
the last moonlit hill to home, drawn as
from a distance toward a single flame.

— Mary Avidano, author of The Zebra’s Friend

T. S. Poetry


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