September 17, 2018

The Poetry of Wayne King

The Poetry of Wayne King

Editor’s Note: The featured image is Wind in the Maple by Wayne King. Wind in the Washline   Peace Comes on a Breeze Spirits Rise, Hope is Reborn The Washline Dances     The Prevaricating Day   Summer in the North Country A warm breeze, briefly noted. Through pine and hardwood, Crossing fields of corn and Unmown grass portending hay Cutting, courting, cunning Teasing, testing, trimming As if intending to remain, Yet only taunting.   June days, behind us now, Beckoned us out, out Out to shake off winter Stubbornly liberating spring A month of April showers, Ours for but a pair of days, Dried to hard baked soil by May Constraining wildflowers Still pushing, prodding, poking through Heralding summer’s silken start.   Now, even as a warm wind blows from the West, Turning winged wind…

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September 14, 2018

I Understand the Game by Howard Williams

I Understand the Game by Howard Williams

I UNDERSTAND THE GAME by Howard Williams   My boyfriend deals drugs. And the entire life that we’ve built together has come at the cost of it. But after two years my perspective of the world outside our apartment is viciously sobering. We live in a spacious studio with exposed brick walls in downtown Washington, D.C. not too far from Georgetown University. When we first moved in I didn’t know how I’d fill the spaces, but I managed to transform the room into a home. On one of the walls I painted a huge graffiti mural of various black figures from Malcolm X and Martin Luther King to Audre Lorde and James Baldwin all compiled in the continent of Africa. The rest of the walls have paintings hung on them created by some friends of…

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September 12, 2018

How I Lost Control And Found Tranquility by Richard David Bach

How I Lost Control And Found Tranquility by Richard David Bach

Editor’s Note: Richard Bach dedicates this short story to all the authors who fear that their characters are taking over and dictating their narrative. This is the story of one such author fighting to regain control. HOW I LOST CONTROL AND FOUND TRANQUILITY   I opened the window to let out the lingering fragrance of cannabis and the lingering perfume of the young woman who turned and blew me a kiss as she walked down my driveway to the Uber waiting at the street. It had been a recreational evening and I hated to see her go, but I resolved to get back to work. Nights are best for me. I’m at my most imaginative, most creative, most productive, after dark. But I hadn’t possessed any of those talents of late, and I hoped that…

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July 24, 2018

Zipporah Kuteesa’s Poetry Debut!

Zipporah Kuteesa’s Poetry Debut!

Editor’s Note: Zipporah Kuteesa, The Fictional Cafe’s 500th member, submitted her poetry to us. We are pleased to present her words, published for the first time!   I REMEMBER NOW! I was reminded of the joy That came with passing by. The toddler I was… Fascinated by the beat, That drew us out into the heat, The thundering of the drums, My grandmother holding me back And I running back. My young intrigued eyes blinking So fast I didn’t want to miss a beat.   I was reminded of the oneness That we shared in bliss, My mother and I, We never questioned why Grandma at her age was antsy And upbeat about the pulsating drums. Because we too could feel it It spoke full of meaning The ancient morals that kept us Sane, one,…

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July 20, 2018

Meditative Elements: The Poetry of William Doreski

Meditative Elements: The Poetry of William Doreski

A Postcard from the Ether The first shy dusting of snow looks too naked to threaten us with its pale, indefinite motives.   It can’t elide our visions of banana trees flourishing many-fingered hands of fruit   in suburbs littered with wrecks of nineteen-Fifties Chevys and Fords. It can’t erase our dreams of melons   bowling down sky avenues broader than aircraft carriers. It can’t persuade us that songs   about summer moonlight swelling the hearts of dancing couples can’t snuff the laugh of the dead   still standing where we left them. The eagle we saw yesterday cruised over the river,   scanned for fish and fended off the racket and teasing of crows, reminded us how negative light   falls in sheaves despite the grace and curvature of one’s narrative. The snow changes…

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July 14, 2018

The Fictional Cafe’s 500th Member!

The Fictional Cafe’s 500th Member!

Last month – actually, the day before our fifth birthday bash on Facebook – the Fictional Café membership rolls hit a magic number: 500. Therefore, we would like to introduce you to Zipporah Kuteesa, our Number Five Hundred member of the Fictional Café Coffee Club! Zipporah was kind and gracious enough to grant us an interview. Read on! FC: Please tell us as little about yourself, Ms. Kuteesa. Z: I live in Entebbe, Uganda. I am 20 years old. I am a student pursuing a B.A. in Mass Communications at Uganda Christian University-Mukono. I work with a humanitarian NGO called Mercy Hands Uganda. FC: Are you a writer, an artist, or media auteur? What do you create? Z: I am a writer, but I also do other forms of art like painting, songwriting, music, and others….

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June 26, 2018

Seasons, Identity, Longing: The Poetry of Emily Ellison

Seasons, Identity, Longing: The Poetry of Emily Ellison

    AS a leaf autumnally As a leaf autumnally pitching in wind, I am ravished by the airs of your mouth. Tumultuous I fly, bending, more corrupt with every spineless form of sin. I collapse continually, again.   With ancient hands you seasonally pour decay in my ripe buds, for, on Earth’s floor, I’d received too much tenderness of skin, more than you care to comply with. Veiny contempt spirals with pollen as a new variety to lovemaking, and hands stretch empty, brown. The petulant stem I am quakes, grainy limbs forming foliage of impiety. As your leaf, I toss like a mind in sundown.     anonymity how you do reconcile the dying breath of the flickering fluorescent young? their waning lights of ecstasy throughout weekly hazards are simulations of warmth. the impoverished…

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