Shara Faskowitz > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

Let's talk about anger. Your anger. Mine. Does it really matter whose?Our anger swells oceans, roils them with discontent. Is anger a state..

This is my special time for sadness, ripe summer when trees toss theirhair like casual schoolgirls,butstand otherwise still for decades. Can tree..

The point was swans. There were long folds bending underneath an implication of wings never with conscious thought of flight, but there were crea..

I sail into midnight in a gown of cobwebs, in firefly earrings. I wear no shoes. I skim barefoot through spirits. I float above zombie louts, thos..

This poem was written for a contest about Emily Dickinson

I. At the bottom of the first the game was barely audible over my headphones. Twelve strings measured the afternoon. It was a musical muse. The l..

Lady sends me when she's fine and mellow and Mr. Five by Five tells me the news. I slip my hips, I wiggle like I'm jello. That ain't no jive alive ..

World of our fathers. Second Avenue stories. Delancey Street. Rivington railroad flat with murky secrets tossed down the airshaft. The wash that f..

Weary tenor man, oh why must you blow so mean to me, baby? Why do you lilt whisper hollow but insistent as though every star tumbles from the sky, ..

After I loved you I became so tiny I was microscopic. I could not be seen. I was so quiet I could not be heard. I was invisible. You walked past me..