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March Poetry & Creative Writing

Flapper Press is proud to present this month's collection of amazing poetic works.

The March poetry prompt was"Endings."

Thank you to all the remarkably talented readers and contributors who sent us their work!

Stay tuned for April poetry prompts!


So Short a Time

Love the lives in hand,

The sweetest animals:



Equine and others.

We won't have


To treasure all

The time we do have.

They live such short lives;

We think we are wise.

Care for them,

Lives short or long,

For each brings love,

And love is strong.

We won't have so long

To treasure their lives.

Love the lives in hand,

The animals we care for,



Equine and others,

Who care for


They don't have long,

We live much longer.

If chance lies with us,

We love the lives in hand.

But time catches up.

The sweetest animals,

They don't have long.

Treasure the lives in hand,

We won't have so long.

They live such short lives.

— J.S.


Soundtrack to My Fears

The scene is over . . .

The ENDING credits unfold

False smiles overshadow the stories left untold

She sings her song

An innocent elegy

Its discordant melodies slowly chant my obituary  

The bitter taste of my own ashes

Already dead to you . . . so dead to you  

If I ask why . . .

Was mine a question with an answer beyond my understanding?

This unfamiliar touch

Torn between my morals and my will . . .

Is it still?

(Insatiable desires)

Beaten and bruised at the hands of my own muse

Shackled by the deafening silence that follows

Mirroring my darkest image

Dead to you . . . so dead to you

If I ask why . . .

Was mine a question with an answer beyond my understanding?  

The wait . . . wasted

Replaced . . . by hatred

The silence echoing in dark cadence

The images I created encroaches on my last patience

Fallen victim of my own conjuration

Realized the poison that I once spewed has become my salvation

The sound . . . the silence . . . the questionings . . .

New beginnings

The fear . . .

This fear . . .

Is this what I want?

Or is it merely a craving for what doesn't belong to me?

All this time have I been praying to a god that ceased to exist?

Mirroring my darkest image

Already dead to you . . . so dead to you

If I ask why . . .

Was mine a question with an answer beyond my understanding?

Still no reply . . .

Is that the answer to a question of my misunderstanding?

The scene is over . . .

Or has it just begun?

Evolving over the years, replicating the soundtrack of my fears

— Sebastian W. Suh (CRUX)


Water's Journey

Snow caps the mountain.

In Spring it wets the ground,

Then returns home.

— Daniel Shaw


Love Letters

I forgot my name today. I took up pen to tell you a hundred things. Like, “I love you” or “you are everything to me and then some.” I took up pen to write a hundred words that made no sentences and a hundred stanzas that made no poem. I took up pen to write you a love letter. “Today bombs brought entire cities to their knees.” And you brought me to mine. My broken, bruised, and purple knees. Scraped from falling to pray to God that these words could form something other than madness. Today I forgot I had a tomorrow. So I wrote you a hundred letters, trying to put my love into paper and when it came time to sign so you would know how much you mean to me, meant to me, and will mean to me, I forgot my name.

“For someone whose smile was loved.” — Grace KA Brewer

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1 Comment

Unknown member
Apr 06, 2019

Oh lovely! All of them!

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