C. Harter Amos > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

The rut is so comfortable I forget that I’m in one… Until the mud and clay suck at my feet and pull me down. I gasp for breath an..

Andrew Wyeth's painting (1968) "Christina's Teapot"

I lay my head in hand and go blank with tears that slide slowly down to burgundy sheets. Somewhere near, in my memories, The fog lay its chord..

For Kelly

Well past midnight I close my eyes, and old terrors come to call, An angel whispers in my ear as it flies past on ancient wings, A melody echoes i..

For the beautiful city of Charleston, South Carolina

For the mockingbird who sang down our chimney

Each year, when the envelope comes holding a leaf of brightest red and nothing more, I know who sent it without there being a name, There was not..

for Kelly

I’m no selfless groupie, No china doll, No professional intellectual, Or runway puppet child. Time, the cruelest of masters, Will no..