by Sam Barbee Silence, our first lie. We perch pacified, feastingwhen fed. Ignore plagues and storms outsidefavorite outlet stores. Mediocre menaces inside.Nothing allowed to interrupt our next shoppi...

by T.J. Masluk Neighbors mostly young— seen from my porch, washing their cars,  trimming  the leafy hedge,   iPhoning Mister  and Missus Jones.   Me?  old and languid,  whiling away the hours  staring...

by Huina Zheng We eat the vegetables my grandmother picks up from the market every day. Leaves that are rotting, yellowing, wilted like used tissues, vendors toss them aside, and she bends down to gat...

by Bart Edelman A monogrammed humidor. A cocker spaniel puppy named Mike. A box of chocolate-covered proverbs. An autographed Louisville Slugger. A bottle of Chartreuse Green V.E.P. A holiday meeting ...

in 1923, guitarist, composer, and poet Agustín Barrios underwent cosmetic surgery to become Nitsuga Mangoré

Update, September 14, 2026: The Authors Guild has gathered further information regarding the Anthropic allocation dispute process. We have updated this post with additional guidance on disputes involv...

In this novel by the iconic French feminist theorist, a woman replays her abandonment by her mother, who is sometimes addressed as a male mother-god.

A poem inspired by May Swenson.

by Gabrielle Idso The cottage perched on the cliff edge like a barnacle. Its walls were a mosaic of shells that caught the morning light and threw it back in a thousand minuscule rainbows. From deep w...

by Vivian Pearl I see a young woman,A white blond girl with her hair shaved high above her scalp, a holy blond child sitting in her fifteen-year-old lapShe looks over him with pride and joy.He is not ...

by Vivian Pearl To get home I have to walk under the bridgeWhere the street lights don’t workThe strangers I pass always have something for meThey flick their tongue over their teeth and coo like pige...

by Peter Hannon A man in blue overalls pumped his gas. His truck was green with a silver stripe and rusted wheel wells. Henry pulled in and glanced at the man as he drove between the pumps. The man pi...

by Arianna Taylor Your cat keeps looking at me funny. I don’t understand much, but I know the eyes it's giving me from across the kitchen—like I’m some sort of sick mammal with silk-spiked teeth. It t...

by Sean Gutman An Expanded Exemplum of the Master from Walton’s Voyage in Frankenstein  I had had my fill of the sea. Have you heard the tired joke about the sailor with the oar upon his shoulder? A m...

by Sambhu Ramachandran We know the person who peeled an onion             for the first time expected some mystery  to lurk behind layer upon eye-smarting layer            and was terribly disappointe...

YouTube video by SNHU Creative Writing Programs

by Sambhu Ramachandran I could never believe in a god rising up  from the roiling waters of my identity crisis,  my heart gripped around his bulging biceps like a ship saved just in time. But I put my...

by William James -for Manchester, NH [2] Sitting on a graffiti’d stone  overlooking the city. Watching  jets take off from MHT.  Ruiner is in my headphones  & hell is empty. There’s sermons  to read, ...

by william james -for Manchester, NH I drive to the grocery store  to relieve my refrigerator  of its crushing loneliness.  I return empty-handed  because I left my wallet  on my desk. & Elm St.  rage...

by Jennifer Ward I remember the winter I turned ten most of all.  One Sunday, my father stood by the front door in his worn blue coat, a coffee mug in his hand. The faint smell of whiskey lingered bet...

by Gracie Jones You lean in— our noses almost touch as you fog the glass  between us. Your features shift,  melting into the mist. The familiar smile ripples, loosens  until you become  unrecognisable...

by Shannon Brown They say bad things come in threes. Instead of waiting for what will happen next, We wonder how many threes there will be this year. That’s not a test of will towards the universe As ...

by Jen Drociak Something happened in the spruce tree under the cloak of darkness Something happened in the spruce tree to which no human bore witness  In the tree where only the northern mockingbirds ...

by Reyna Espinoza What will you tell your children when they are grown and ask who you were? Will you tell them the truth? Will you tell them you were cruel? Will you tell them you enforced the rules?...

by Reyna Espinoza I was born of sunrise and pesticides,of strawberries and struggles.I was raised with sunburnsand church on Sunday,where my knees memorizedthe wood of the prie-dieu,where prayers were...

by Ed Schad Tony the Tiger began to groan free of his box, pacing, padding, rushing  down to disrupt the morning table.  Great though he was, his flakes also great, he increased, deepened, outstretche...

by Kenneth Pobo I turn off the computer and  watch the moon through  a half-closed venetian blind— then head to bed. Sometimes  I can’t sleep because I fear  dreaming. Last night I dreamed I was teach...

by Kenneth Pobo My favorite is a list  of my top songs.   Almost 3000 titles.   The shortest are by the DC5.   The longest is “MacArthur Park.”   The grocery list bores me. We  discuss at martini time...

by Kenneth Pobo our white sweet pea  curls up and above  the top. We don’t let  the gate swing open  for fear of breaking it, no longer use the back  door until frost fells  the vine. My cousin  says ...

by Jacqueline Hyatt He likes the smell of my perfume, How it sticks to the pillowcase  Hours after I go.  He likes the smell of my perfume; He craves reminders that  He is not alone.  He likes the sme...

by Jacqueline Hyatt Five minutes in line  And a credit card swipe Of $9.99, my salad was  Easily earned. Kale and spinach,  Cherry tomatoes,  And dried cranberries  In a capped paper cup Took a tumble...

by Dalia Davis Photo taken by author Flames cooled by blue tones.  Rushing  foam faces burst into song groovesswinging past stones. A jazz band of water nymphsquell fire arrows aimed for  my heart  bo...

by Martin FitzPatrick I turned on the car radio in time  to hear the last minute or so  of “Sweet Emotion”; then the DJ  came on and said, “Some Aerosmith here  this morning . . . one of my favorite  ...

The Penmen Review is proud to share the winners and runner-up comics in Southern New Hampshire University's Graphic Storytelling Challenge! In this experiential learning activity, teams of undergradua...

by Martin FitzPatrick They stand on the porch calling goodbye to Mommy,  wishing her a good day at work,  a good journey to work.  Goodbye. Goodbye. We love you.  Have a good day. Have good luck.  Don...

by Martin FitzPatrick If you were a songwriter, like with  singing and guitars and everything, then every time you wanted to talk about  being sad, you could say tears, and  whenever you said tears, y...

by Mike Solo-Thomson First, I had to make an offering. Instead of easing the cork out of the champagne bottle, I sent it through the air. It cleared the glass balcony and landed in the dry, crusted ea...

YouTube video by SNHU Creative Writing Programs

by Alexander Hurla Many years from now, when I’m old and gray and my joints hurt, I’ll climb into the dark attic and pull out a box from the corner— a moldy and moth-ridden one with faded words on the...

Each spring, SNHU’s online literary salon, Word for Word, honors recent graduates of the Online BA, MA, and MFA creative writing programs in a special Graduate Spotlight event. Recommended by instruct...

by Alexander Hurla We’ve talked about dividing things. “Right down the middle,” we’ve said. “Fifty/fifty.” But how can we split things when you’ve touched everything that’s mine, and I’ve made my mark...