Are you an aspiring writer, poet or artist? Or maybe you want to try your hand at any of the above? We want to share your art! Read directions on how to submit your creative work below:
For submissions: Send your short story or poem (150 words or less) or a photo of your artwork to Rebecca.Fending@lifestylesafter50.com with the words “Creative Corner” in the subject line. Please include which Florida city you currently live in to ensure that your work will be published in your local edition. Artwork must be before the 15th of every month, otherwise it will be held as potential news for the following issue’s publication. Include your name, phone number and address. Work is published on a basis of what space is available.
Creative Corner Submissions for December
“Words” by Theresa Loder
We can read them We can say them We can sing them We can play them We can write them We can think them We can type them we can ink them We can meditate Conjugate, abbreviate Or disseminate Words We can hear them we can use them we can find them We can lose them We can keep them We can tweet them and quite possibly Even teach them Words can hurt Humble Harm And heal Words
“Youth” by Theresa Loder
The grass was so green The sky was so blue Fluffy white clouds Ground covered with dew Thunder and lightening An afternoon shower Steam off the pavement A field of wild flowers Sunday at the beach Fried chicken in the car Washed down with lemonade Light bugs in a jar We ran down the streets With cans on our feet We rode our bikes on the rims We carried marbles In an old coffee can We played all day In a circle of sand We rode buses We flew kites Played in the rain Knew wrong from right
“A Child Was Born” by John M. Alexander
I wasn’t there. I certainly don’t know. Judea in winter might have had snow. The date’s not important like the weather that morn. All that I know is that a Child was born. This God-man Child, Savior of all Who will die on a cross and send us the call To love one another: The sick and the cold, Kids burned-out on drugs, and the destitute old, The hungry and homeless begging dimes on the street. He’s begging us, too, but our eyes never meet. He says to us all: “Before your life’s through Try loving each other as I have loved you.” “Kindness comes natural. Indifference is taught. It’s the soul of your life. With My blood it’s been bought.” I wasn’t at Calvary or Bethlehem on that morn. All that I know is that A Child was born.
“Oh, Cookie” by John M. Alexander, aka “Sarasota John”
I love you, Cookie. What do you think of that? I love you. I love you. I love you Even though you make me fat. I know you haven’t long silk hair Or kissable pouty lips. No warm soft skin. No deep brown eyes. But, you’ve got chocolate chips!! You never complain. You never nag. And by you I’ll never be kissed. But, calling me from your cookie jar I simply can’t resist. I run to you. I jump and shout. I’ll come with leaps and bounds. I’m yours, all yours for ever more . . . . Plus an extra fifty pounds.
“The Kings” by John M. Alexander
They came by night across sands and time By the star, like a magnet, guided. They found love and life and the newborn Christ, Their lives' greatest joy provided. They found the child, the chosen one, While I in failure, have sought To discover Him and His forgiving love And the redemption His blood has bought. But I hear the kings and their camel bells, their hymns across vale and dune. And know that He is near me now, That I too, will find Him soon. And I see Him now in the eyes of friends, In my children, and the eyes of a stranger. I find Christ now, in my life today, Much more than a child in a manger. And he lives through me, each day that I breathe, Through countless sunlit Springs. For I have seen his distant, glowing star And I've heard the ancient kings.
“Little Tyke’s Christmas” by Ann-Marie Stenhouse
Little Tyke was so excited, learning they will be going to Gram and Grampap’s house for dinner. He loved that old house. It was in the country, with lots of snow and woods to roam. Only problem was the bathroom was way upstairs; it had a tub with “claw feet.” Gram would let him play with her collection of whittled wooden dogs she kept on a shelf over the fireplace mantle. Grampap took to whittling when he got old. Maybe after dinner, Grampap would take him to visit The Lodge and see all the raccoon-hunting dogs. They would howl seeing a raccoon run up a tree. Later, a nice nap with Grampap before heading home. Gram would pack up lots of leftovers for Little Tyke and his mom and dad. He looked forward to working on a puzzle from his grandparents this year. Another wonderful Christmas; he was very full and happy.
Merry Christmas to All!
“Holiday Poem” by Paula Timpson
Holiday arrives Within Soft snow And Evening's glow Morning's dance Deer are entranced By the light Tonight Holiday lives Breathing Peace
“The Early Years of Youth” by Carl Norman Johnson
The early years of youth I remember so very well. Tho’ they are gone, my memory holds them still. Through middle years, and golden too, passing by with time; I sat and watched them go. Now, in thinking, a tear arrives, not in sadness, but with joy; that I still remember all with love, with no regret, recalled!