The Whisky Blot
Journal of Literature, Poetry, and Haiku
distilling my words releasing what’s bottled up intoxicating Jennifer L. Blanck’s work has appeared in a range of magazines and journals, including Entropy, Snapdragon, and Star 82 Review. She currently lives in Northern Virginia, but her spirit is traveling the world. Visit her website at https://jenniferlblanck.com/. Photo by Shane Huey. Taken while writing in the personal writing studio of Ernest Hemingway. Key West, FL, September 2021. Tell your tale again old man
While we sit here by the sea Tell of hot sun and dreams lost to sharks And places you longed to be Speak of the crowds thrilled by the bulls And the blood that darkened the ground Speak of the bars and drinks shared with friends While the maidens gathered around Speak of the lions that roared out their challenge And hot winds that blew so free Tell of the scars crossing your cheeks And confess how the scars came to be In the afternoon we may speak of death And of the bell which always tolls We may speak of these things into the night While the sea continues to roll Care not what others may offer to say They have lived a coward’s dream They know not what we speak of They find you too extreme George M. Stamps is freelance writer living in Kentucky. He is a lover of all things Hemingway. I aspire to the scientific mind. But limitations compel me to live as a poem. Held apart. Married to the word. Divorced from the world. My perceptions snapshots of a darkened room. Images of obscurity. I long to live at the collision point of language and thought. Where meaning is codified. Where communion begins. If we truly understand a concept’s implications we can grasp the worlds potentials. Then we consciously enter into a dance with reality. Born in Norman OK in 1951, Jack has worked as a bus driver, bartender, warehouse lackey, freelance illustrator, laser animator, graphic designer, art director, and middle school art teacher. Presently, he is a potter and ceramic sculptor living in the North Georgia mountains with his wife and dog. He has had poems published in The RavensPerch and Rat's Ass Review. from the broken page you crawl forth tangled lines of hope and hurt reaching from what was to what will be the bent and battered masterpiece abandoned to the junkyard the anthem of a generation buried beneath bullet holes come my darling and remember what is beautiful soft twirls across the kitchen floor powdered kisses from an eyelash your broken heart still beats stitch it up so you can sing icy fists slam at the window the fire crackles we lock the doors come quickly now take a sip before the tea grows cold Sarah Dittmore (she/they) has spent the past decade traveling the world and writing stories of the people and places she encounters along the way. As a queer, neurodivergent writer, Sarah is passionate about literature that accurately showcases often underrepresented or misrepresented voices. Read more of her work at www.sarahdittmore.com. |
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