Part of poetry’s power is its magical, seemingly sacred, unreachable references, as contrasted, for instance, with the mundanity of news articles’ banal, commonplace orientations. Likewise, though both balladry and straightforward compiling are products of human endeavor, collective norms establish different ends for the two. Poesy and essays might cover the same topics, as exemplified, repeatedly, by the literatures of war, emancipation, and marriage, but they differ in predictable ways.
ShoreLINES is an anthology of short stories and poetry, inspired by the beautiful Lake Cumberland area of Pulaski County, Kentucky, and compiled by the Pulaski Writer’s Alliance.
Blue was horrified. Only parents feed inchoate penguins. She gulped down the last of her fish and then scuttled away. Prestige was one thing but living with a mate who couldn’t mate was another.
Amal offered a new conjecture. She suggested that the women had involuntary become medical guinea pigs. Weeks before she and her coterie had noticed their state of flowering, Amal had accidentally collided with a pharmacist. That pharmacist was walking through the locked hospital ward, where Amal’s sister was a nurse. Maybe, that drug doc had not meant to dispense medications, but to surreptitiously test a rare gonadotropin.
By not shouldering our obligations as listeners and readers, by ignoring our misperception about who ought to set up the rules that guide our decision-making, by tolerating distorted self- perceptions, by acceding to false ideas about our rhetorical shortcomings, and by putting up with credence given to enemies of cooperation, we experience significant loss. It’s imperative that we become accountable audiences.
This collection of poems operates without the constraints of particular sentiments; everything never was nor ever will be equal despite our civilization’s insistence on guidelines for thinking, speaking, and acting. Accordingly, age-old prescriptive, and descriptive linguistic theories, which are exemplified by the content of many sacred and secular texts, fail to thrill modern folks. That is, when we skip free of others’ opinions, we create better poetry.
I am a world of one participating in a universe of many. My bits and bobs are arranged as nonstandard, impractical commodities contemporaneous with being disposed as normative and utilitarian. My blends are not patently better or worse than are others’ initiatives. Any merit attached to my work derives from my deliberations being a seizable voice. One size never fit all and never will. At best, my declarations suit some persons, sometimes. Even so, few deeds delight me more than producing word assemblages. I am happiest when exercising my mind, videlicet, when storytelling.
Gone is the era when writers sacrificed profits for principals. These days, most of what gets posted or printed is tripe. Ironically, vanished, too, is the span when writers sacrificed principles for profits. Today, even if authors play strumpets on Naked News, declare an eating disorder on LinkedIn, or snuff baby rabbits on YouTube, no one cares. Most audiences no longer even regale such acts as “performance art.”
This book celebrates moms’ ability to simultaneously: mop carpets, diaper doll bottoms, chop beans, and actualize professional jobs. As well, this book regards, jadedly, some of the conventions surrounding womenfolk’s socially prescribed limits.
Trevor and his dad, Jake Jackson are told of a good place to go hunting. But who is hunting what near Mile Marker 88.
The Adventure of Frog and Lamb is the story of a friendship between two different creatures, enjoying the wonder of the night sky created by God.