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The Barn, a Poem by Jeanette W. Stickel

As I approached the ladder, I glanced up into the black, gaping hole of the hayloft, then turned away. Something held me back. I left to search in the woods and never saw her hanging there.

Valiant Scribe

4 hours ago1 min read

The Art of Dying, a Poem by Mark James Trisko

Let me be remembered, not because of what I did or didn’t do, not for what I said or didn’t say, not for how much money I earned,

Contributor

Aug 16, 20243 min read

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