1-10 of 50 hubssort by Hot Best Latest
68the spankmobile
My friend Marshal and his wife, Jane have a family of three girls and a dog in south Mpls. They say that they live on a street like “in the olden days” – you know -- when we were kids. The...
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68the age of invisibility
some women stay in the shadows. by Annette Gagliardi I have reached that age . . . the age of invisibility. I am not looking for sighs of sympathy, or nods of pity. That is not my...
2 comments63Two for San Francisco
By A. Gagliardi Fog dissipates slowly into the morning sun, Only to come creeping back when day is done. Muffled foghorns announce their passage from morn to setting sun. Though silent or seen,...
1 comment
62The Antevasin
by Annette GagliardiShe lives at the borderAlways dreaming.A non-conformist,She is not a villager.No household calls to her.She is in sight of the forest.Ever searching.No sage or deity of the...
1 comment55free to speak
By Annette Gagliardi She is free to speak--free to speak her mind.She can never mind that hand held up as if to stop her talk.She can speak if she wants to.All she needs to know (to...
0 comments54weight loss is all about attitude
by A. Gagliardi I have begun a new weight loss program by joining Weight Watchers for the second time. I was successful previously, in losing weight and reached my goal but I had trouble keeping it...
3 comments
50july is yellow
By A. Gagliardi Deep in the heart of summerJuly shines yellowFlowers turn cadmiumDays slow to mellowStellas wink and nod off To the music of lassitudeTawny afternoonsSlip quietly byThe sun sinks into egg...
0 comments62let it rest
by a.gagliardi I was trying to bake bread and it wasn’t working for me.I worked and worked the flour into the dough, then formed it into the loaves. But it wasn’t raising as it should. I couldn’t...
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65Doors of San Francisco
By A.Gagliard Side-walk perched doors With stone arch and iron grill Whisper their unassuming attitude. These troll-doors fade into vague What revelation awaits within? Wall-hugging...
44hydrangea still life
By. A. Gagliardi These Hydrangea on my table sit in pale pink and green clusters; each four-petal flowerette its own song of compatibility. They crush together like people crowded on a rush-hour...
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