You don’t have to consider yourself an “artist” to make art. Creativity is more than just storytelling, it’s a form of expression, an active release. The motion of physically creating something and seeing it before you, transforms thoughts into realization. Create from what propels you. Create for yourself before anyone else. You don’t always have to share what you make, what matters is getting it out.
Once writing has become your major vice and greatest pleasure, only death can stop it.
Ernest Hemingway
Latest Poetry
Infantry of Words by Robyn Petrik
When poems spillfrom my fingertips,I imagine each wordas a soldiermarching into battle. Wildly afraidbut proud to serve,hopeful for a victory. Robyn Petrik is a writer and poet from Vancouver, BC. Her poems have been published by Polar Expression, Moss Piglet, and Coffee People Zine. Robyn is addicted to traveling, climbing, and hiking, and does her…
I’ll let you leave by Aldo Quagliotti
I wish i could keep youAs intact as one can stayAs distant from sadnessAs a platform waving the departing trainYet you slip out of my hugfall into wrinkles and white hairsI tend my arm to reach your gutsAnd then you reactAnd tell meWould you please just let me liveAnd i have misheard you once againSo…
The Songbird by Kinsey Carlson
These tears that I cry cannot be explainedLike birds singing sweetly, the music doth lieMy gilded cage tarnished by more than strainMy heart lies bleeding and time does not signifyThat which is remembered is not always gainedWaiting for something to take away the pain Kinsey Carlson is a nurse by day, and a fervent writer…
Open Call for Submissions!
F lora Fiction is looking for artists, writers, poets, photographers, illustrators, and others to be featured for Volume 4 Issue 2, Spring Issue set to release on June 21st 2023. We’re inspired by you and would love to see what you have to offer. Please check out our previous issues for reference of work we’ve published. If your…
Blank Screen by Bruce Gunther
All this day with its weight of stone -with its terrible freight of unmoving time. The walls inch closer as we cometo grips with the torpor of sameness. Let’s do something, anything, we say,even if it’s simply flipping the bum a quarter. What genius is he hiding, after all, ensconcedunder his heap of blankets as…
Breezed, From Maine by Meg Peters
Literary illusions,chased, I bite my tongue, the phonograph is still,listen close, lean in nowthe past sounds like an interstate a phonograph or a window, city traffic hums,I wonder what you think about, things have been quiet, here, but maybe one day we will drive, past falling leaves, August rain. and we will listen,we will pray,and…
GOODBYE GOODBYE by Lara Abuali
In my dreams you come to meemaciated and starving, a sick dog,clinging onto my arm.You took and took, pulling the marrowfrom my bones until I was empty.I watched you as you grew and grew,the gluttony taking hold until I had no flesh left.Still it wasn’t enough.Your mouth was slick with A, B, AB, O(though I…
A Pond Discovery by John Grey
The pond is almost hiddenin thick rushesbut I spy the periscopeof an egret head,hear the rattling cryof a kingfisher.There are no secretsfrom the eyes and ears. It’s wider and deeperthan I expected.Enough to interesta merganser pair.Enough amphibian mating callsto form a belching choir. Fish, too tiny to name,slither about the mossy rocks.Painted turtles bask on…
The Festival by Jeff Lewis
There was a festival that day,I don’t remember what it was called.I remember the soft curve of her cheek,I remember the way she padded gentlyacross the earthas though afraid of leaving a permanent mark.I remember her cries of delightas I won the little stuffed tigerafter seven futile attempts.I remember how she carried it in her…
What Makes Us All Connected by Maid Corbic
Faith has become synonymous with everything today.That I must simply saythat it somehow changed meAbsolutely for the better, as I am a Christian. People are bothered by any change today.but I find it’s for my eyes only.and that I feel so fulfilledWhen I light a candle every Sundayand I enjoyed that exciting moment. I believe…
Eyes With Fear by Ramzi Rihani
Drumrolls are heard from behind the mountainsPeople prepare for the festivities to startLittle do they know that the end is nearAs the rage of war fills the eyes with fear Lovers pick up daffodils in the prairiesOblivious to the sound of rocketsWarmongers pledge an encounter with GodNegotiating contracts broad and flawed At the edge of…
togetherness by Holli Terrell-Cavalluzzi
insidethe wax widensdrips around the candleilluminates your face in a soft light. i trust you. there is a clock.the small handstops telling time. outsideis a bare piece of paperwaiting… Holli Terrell-Cavalluzzi lives in Wilmington North Carolina where she has made a home by the coast. She spends her days writing poetry and prose which started…
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