Donald Paris > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

This is a piece of fiction.

I’m from these old streets.With the crunch of the gravel under my feet,I see old and new ,Buildings, parks, projects of wasted revenu..

Alone, a boy stood In the middle of a parking lot. He was the only Thing there, as darkness fell. He was just as motionless as the..

As I sat on the wall, she drew, The attention of my sad, brown eyes. She was really stunning in silk. A marine blue dress, moving, Like the water i..

Orange florescent light streams Through my window casting Shadowy bars on my bed. The heat becomes a prison guard, Burning my body wi..

Freemont School sat across from A graveyard; filled with Flowers and dead soldiers. Both were fresh and bright red. The childr..

It was a red dilapidated barn With rotted wood and rusted shingles That he was proud of most. It had a face like his. Beaten by th..

It was a promise of summer That kept her coming back. Sunshine, fledgling dreams of amber Fields. Her hair, tiny strands of black, F..

A non rhyming pantoum

Pinned down by a volley of rainbows. Mortar rounds rip through men. Their tears puddle on the ground Carving out tiny canyons While th..