Daily Archives: November 26, 2009

April @outshine prose poems—humourous

April 4:

At 97, Grandma got a time machine and started meeting her descendants. Last I heard, she had hugged twenty generations and was still going.

[Bio] Amanda Davis denies everything but regrets nothing. She blogs at http://tinyurl.com/ddvpvj .

April 11:

We shrugged Atlas off our backs early in the tech spike. Disappointedly, nothing much changed, except, well, all the bag ladies disappeared.

[Bio] meika lives in Tasmania and no longer writes for humans. twitter.com/meika .

April 18:

One night at the nude colony,
The moon rose celestially.
With no clothes to stifle
I transformed in a trifle
To eat snacks, packaging-free

[Bio] Writer-mommy-doctor who loves artists & underdogs: melissayuaninnes.net .

April 25:

“I told you it had some design flaws,” Audrey sighed as the city turned upside down and sank, shining, car horns blaring, into the sea.

[Bio] Paula R. Stiles, at: http://is.gd/kLAu, has sold SF, fantasy and horror stories to Strange Horizons, Jim Baen’s, Futures and others.

April @outshine prose poems—inspiring

April 1:

Above the rioters’ ruinous flames, a holoPhoenix shone. Hope rose like Holy Fire. The Rocking Raven Brigade beat chaos and despair.

[Bio] MD,writer, co-editor in French SF mag GALAXIES. Spends too much time dreaming and her house is always a mess. http://is.gd/gdmv .

April 8:

My avatars, luminous with data, press close, keen. A tap: we skim the zombie bots, dodge in, & deploy anti-viral mines; undead dust cloud.

[Bio] Maura McHugh lives in South Galway, Ireland, writes weird, loves technology, but loathes zombie botnets. http://splinister.com .

April 15:

Dancer divine

Tripping the rift

of dimensions

of distant days

brimming with light

She steps on stars

and drops to earth

and dances dreams.

[Bio] Ash M.B. has a B.A. in English, is a professional Polynesian dancer, a kung fu fighter, and writer. http://twitter.com/homeofleia .

April 22:

A pastel blue bloom, close enough to cup in my hands. The quiet white petals I remember; vivid leaves. Home is near; as are you, at last.

[Bio] Stephanie Campisi is a writer of the weird and wonderful. Find her at www.stephaniecampisi.com.

April 29:

Were people really so – alone, granpa?

disbelief in her deep brown eyes

Yes, dear, said I

Old friends laughing in the back of my mind.

[Bio] David Heijl lives in Belgium; juggles children, day job and night-time writerly ambitions but hasn’t dropped anything so far.