Parley: Literary & Visual Arts – SITREP: Military Literary & Visual Arts – PPSC News: Link to The Paper
“They say that this war will end all wars.” The sergeant’s saliva catches onto his black, well-groomed mustache. “But do not let it be the war to end your resolve, or our empire!” At that, multiple men in the trench …
I am all around,A rosé shroud that never comes down.Further I float,A cloak of smoke, ascending to OuranosPast mountains and man,Above Father Sky, my looming glory hides.I ebb into smoggy bliss.
I’ve been born in an age where as a child we learn about the circle of life. Yet as a young boy, I never understood its significance until much later. However, I did question where humans were and why. Our …
The most obvious thing was the smell. Kind of like that general old-person smell, you know? Like an old perfume made of expired medicines and dead flowers, tinged with just a hint of whiskey breath—not necessarily an unpleasant aroma, but …
Wriggling wryly, I wistfully fretted The chamberlain shook and listfully took Dryly my gin and at once he wetted His throat. Sinfully fat, sat by the brook Cool water flowed and sullenly frolicked Until wearily wept he spoke his …
She was running out of time, The hours passing by as quickly as sand through fingers, Her mind as empty as the desert sky. The keys of the keyboard clicked,And clacked,But the screen showed nonsense,Written in a dead language. Her mind had poured itself, As …
Winter is when he likes to visitDays when only darkness existsWhen it comes to sadness, he’s a bigotRefusing to let light be missedMy mind doesn’t like to admit itBut sorrow will always persistI can’t seem to dim itMe and the …
The crisp water spraysOnto my cold stung face.The simple pattern of theSwaying waves. Back and forth in this simple patternSways the fragile, graying boat.In its fight against the harsh waters In the depths below.Lurking and waiting for aBoat the likes of mine, To …
On the corner of a dusty town lived an old woman, with silky-silver hair that lunged past her shoulders, but which she kept tucked neatly in a bun that resembled iced cinnamon rolls. When she was a younger woman, her …
“Poe hoped success there (in the military) would prompt Allen to make him his heir. But Poe’s sympathetic foster mother was now dead, and Allen was out of patience with his foster son…. he dashed Poe’s hopes for an inheritance.” …