Do the right thing, they say It's not always the easiest thing And those frantic days And those homesick nights It can wear you down Is there a reward for this? Probably not Love is its own reward But is love enough? Sometimes, not always Let the time pass And the days turn into dusk Spend a lifetime doing the right things With no heaven as a reward But merely the assurance Of a lifetime of hard-fought Difficult, warm love
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Crashed and shattered, ugly and tall
Shows the contours of my hollowed face
Saw the place of the ornate bruises
Set me up in the lonely moon
She crept behind my head, and thought,
Let me swallow this horrid creature
Submit your work to Fiction & Ideas
William Faulkner’s “Absalom, Absalom!” is one of American literature’s most influential and essential works. But what inspired this classic novel? Faulkner’s prose is impressive, but he’s a challenging author to understand. I read this novel recently, considered one of his best, and it left me with more questions than answers. So, I decided to do some research.
William Faulkner was an American novelist and short-story writer, most known for his modernist works set in the Southern United States. In total, Faulkner wrote over twenty novels and more than one hundred short stories. Faulkner was influential in redefining literary technique and style by using stream-of-consciousness, symbolism, and fictionalized histories. He also popularized Southern literature as a genre through his works that focused on the South’s culture and history.
Continue reading “The Influences and Inspirations Behind William Faulkner’s Classic ‘Absalom, Absalom!’”
On this day in literary history, on February 10, 1778, Voltaire returned to Paris to great acclaim after being gone for 28 years. Voltaire’s departure from Paris was a defining moment in his life. He left a life of comfort and privilege and moved to a small village in England, where he wrote some of his greatest works.
Continue reading “This Day in Literary History: February 10, 1778 – Voltaire Returns to Paris After a Long Period of Exile”
Vast the realm of Being is,
In the waste one nook is his;
Whatsoever hap befalls
In his vision’s narrow walls
He is here to testify.
Note: This poem is in the public domain and can be found here. Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) was an American essayist, philosopher, lecturer, abolitionist, and poet who was the leader of the Transcendalist movement in the mid-19th century. Emerson was a champion of individualism and constant critic of the pressures of society, and his ideas were spread through dozens of published essays throughout the United States.
Sadness is a river
Flowing backwards, black as the night
Fashioned with a soaking ecstasy in winter
Flooding the town with its melancholy
Laid wide with a luminous drive
Flashed through minds with a burst
Black was the river with a yellow call
Shone was a landscape in this darkness
Submit your work to Fiction & Ideas
Lastly, a river
This scorching meandering
Into the sadness
Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Masque of the Red Death” is perhaps one of the most iconic works of horror literature in history. It’s also perhaps my favorite of all of Poe’s short stories, with “The Fall of The House of Usher” a very close second. Beneath the surface of “The Masque” lies a multitude of hidden meanings and symbols, just waiting to be discovered.
First published in 1842, “The Masque of The Red Death” is considered one of Poe’s finest works and is set in a world ravaged by plague. In this story, Poe combines his signature themes with a stern moral lesson about mortality and death’s inevitable presence in life.
Continue reading “The Macabre Symbolism in Edgar Allan Poe’s Iconic ‘Masque of the Red Death’”
Meet me at the cell block
Where G-d is in the penitentiary with the lifers
Where she says things that make no sense
And hears things only she understands
Meet me in the garden of night
Where G-d is listening to the lovers
Where her whispers caress the tree boughs
And she lights up the starry night sky
Meet me in the desert
Where G-d is with the solitary man
Where she conjures images only he understands
And laughs with each gust of wind
Meet me at the abandoned house in the city
Where G-d is with the junkies
Where she watches over tearfully
As they shiver in the winter cold
Meet me anywhere
Where G-d stays hidden behind the veil
Where she exists in the in-between
As she cries, rejoices, sings, and laments
She is what we cannot know
Will never know
And can only imagine with
A finite mind
In an infinite world
Clouded with snow
The cold winds blow,
And shrill on leafless bough
The robin with its burning breast
Alone sings now.
The rayless sun,
Day’s journey done,
Sheds its last ebbing light
On fields in leagues of beauty spread
Unearthly white.
Thick draws the dark,
And spark by spark,
The frost-fires kindle, and soon
Over that sea of frozen foam
Floats the white moon.
Note: This poem is part of the public domain and can be found here. Walter John de la Mare (1873-1956) was an English poet, novelist, and short story writer. He’s best remembered for his works for children, along with his acclaimed selection of psychological horror stories, such as “All Hallows.”
