Poem: Week 1 – Not feeling it – Dianne Williams

Veena As if being a sex and love addict wasn’t enough, I had to go ahead and also be bipolar. Correction, as my therapist Judie would point out, I have bipolar disorder. And a long list of other scary looking…...
Wile was sitting in her uncle’s kickwillie tending the fire. A deep uneasiness had settled in her and while she was keeping the fire going, it was barely enough to light the dwelling she now shared with her uncle. Memories…...
I walked into the kitchen, took my red checkered apron off the hook and put It on while walking over to thestove. Picked the kettle up and went over to the kitchen sink, filled it and returned the it to…...
The faintly glowing, blue numbers suspended a few inches above Rayne’s face read 0113. The silent walls of her bunk compartment, glowing a similar color and dying her yellow baselayer a sickly green, rose twelve inches on either side of…...
Another new beginning. How I long for a cup of steaming hot aromatic coffee in my hands as I am standing at the kitchen window gazing out into my once beautiful garden. But my coffee drinking days are over. What…...