Berry Fleming Book Festival will debut at Augusta University Summerville Campus on September 23rd from 9- 4 pm. For more information http://wp.me/P7QoJg-C.
If you like this poem, check out Emanuel Kane’s new release Growing Flames Fury and Lavender https://www.createspace.com/7157955
The helicopter drops down
in flames in a sea of wheat.
The leader is a skeleton.
The leader is a statue.
The leader is a ghost.
I met him once, I shook
his hand. We clicked like magic.
Let us think about the powder
in his ring, don’t look at
the jewel in his wife’s locket.
Let us think, for a moment, about summer.
How dawn is like peach skin
and takes you in like acapella.
The light falls from the moon
like toy guns. Don’t ask me how,
it just does.
Copyright 2017 Leonard Gontarek
Keep sharing Sylvester!
Gary Sandwell had been relieved that the day had finally ended. It had been busy at the computer store where he’d worked. Shoppers had flocked in droves that day to get the newest equipment and latest improvements. The entire Yorkshire Mall in fact, had been extremely busy. As a result, the store had achieved very high sales figures. Being the Assistant Manager had meant that he’d been entitled to a share of the profits if they reached their monthly quota and thanks to that day’s activities, they’d been well on their way.
John Martin—one of the full-time employees—had drawn the doors closed after the last of the customers had walked out with their purchase. The rest of the staff had exchanged looks of gratitude. They’d been happy because it had been a Friday night and they had planned a night of drinking, dancing, and womanizing. The plans had been made…
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Sylvester Pilgrim posted another story!
The afternoon was warm but slightly overcast. On the horizon, dark clouds could be seen approaching; bringing a storm with them. School had just ended and most of us were engaged in the usual activities of young boys; playing tag, dodge ball or scampering around. I had just finished chasing my best friend Neal and we were laughing in our comradely way when from behind I heard someone say, “Get him!”
My first thought was of another game of chase until I felt the fingers close around my throat. Again I thought nothing of it until they started to apply pressure. I struggled to get free but they maintained their vice-like grip. The tips began to dig in and crush my windpipe. I gasped and sank to my knees as spots danced before my eyes.
I heard Neal say, “Leave him alone, Randolph!”
It was then that I knew…
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Congratulation RITA INDIANA!
As a follow-up to our previous post, DOMINICAN REPUBLIC AUTHOR RITA INDIANA WINS CARIBBEAN LITERATURE PRIZE, which announced that Dominican author Rita Indiana Hernández was awarded the Grand Prix Littéraire Région Guadeloupe, here is a post by Adriana Cataño (Remezcla):
Just last year, Rita Indiana earned a nomination for the Premio Bienal de Novela Mario Vargas Llosa – an award seeking to energize the Spanish-language contemporary genre – for her novel, La mucama de Omicunlé. And though Chilean Carlos Franz ultimately took home the prize, Rita’s novel continues pushing Spanish-language literature forward. On April 8, 2017, La mucama became the first book written in Spanish to win the Grand Prix Littéraire Région Guadeloupe – an award given out by the Caribbean Writers Congress, according to EFE.
La mucama de Omicunlé explores issues of identity and gender, and focuses on the Caribbean. “With this novel, I am starting a…
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