#Free Greco-Roman #Fantasy and #Paranormal #Romance HERE! via @calasade

11053049_1036462543045590_4011144159497320856_oCalasade: Blood Isle (Greco-Roman Fantasy & Paranormal Romance), by Mark Stone, is now available for advanced readers. Get your Kindle, EPUB, or PDF copy by clicking in the links below. This opportunity lasts until the publication date of 5/18/2015. Since the best things come in threes, Mark Stone is going to give away signed print copies of Blood Isle to three of the early reviewers after publication :) Download links are below.

Download Blood Isle here. Please leave a comment to let me know you have downloaded so I can tell the author and add you to the list of possible people to win the giveaway.

Kindle: http://bit.ly/1FljDEk
EPUB: http://bit.ly/1GKS5fx
PDF: http://bit.ly/1yVs6f9

#AtoZChallenge: from Endings, a Poem by Mona Van Duyn

Vfrom Endings

Setting the V.C.R. when we go to bed
to record a night owl movie, some charmer we missed
we always allow, for unprogrammed unforeseen,
an extra half hour. (Night gods of the small screen
are ruthless with watchers trapped in their piety.)
We watch next evening, and having slowly found
the start of the film, meet the minors and leads,
enter their time and place, their wills and needs,
hear in our chests the click of empathy’s padlock,
watch the forces gather, unyielding world
against the unyielding heart, one longing’s minefield
laid for another longing, which may yield.
Tears will salt the left-over salad I seize
during ads, or laughter slow my hurry to pee.
But as clot melts toward clearness a black fate
may fall on the screen; the movie started too late.
Torn from the backward-shining of an end
that lights up the meaning of the whole work,
disabled in mind and feeling, I flail and shout,
“I can’t bear it! I have to see how it comes out!”
For what is story if not relief from the pain
of the inconclusive, from dread of the meaningless?
Minds in their silent blast-offs search through space–
how often I’ve followed yours!–for a resting-place.
And I’ll follow, past each universe in its spangled
ballgown who waits for the slow-dance of life to start,
past vacancies of darkness who vainglory
is endless as death’s, to find the end of the story.

Mona Van Duyn

Mona Jane Van Duyn (May 9, 1921 – December 2, 2004) was an American poet. She won every major American award for poetry and was appointed Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress in 1992. Van Duyn was born in Waterloo, Iowa. She grew up in the small town of Eldora where she read eagerly in the town library and wrote poems secretly in notebooks from her grade school years to her high school years. Van Duyn earned a B.A. from Iowa State Teachers College in 1942, and an M.A. from the State University of Iowa in 1943, the year in which she married Jarvis Thurston. She and Thurston studied in the Ph.D. program at Iowa.

#AtoZChallenge: still spring, a Poem by Amy Uyematsu

Ustill spring

in season’s late rain / we travel poppy-domed hills/ pilgrims’ eyes
brimming / the chirp of sparrows and kids / playing well past dark
whose small throated sighs / a lover’s quarrel / that blue trickster
time / how real our wide shining eyes / is this the last kiss

Amy Uyematsu

Amy Uyematsu (born 1947) is a Japanese-American poet.
Growing up in Southern California, Uyematsu was torn between the Japanese culture of her family and the American culture of her environment, a conflict which has deeply influenced her writing and poetry.

#FlashFiction #FridayReads: Saturdays at Midnight, by Dan Leicht @deeliopunk

bannerfans_15492347It’s Friday! Hooray! Today I have a special post for all of you. Today I am offering here some original and brand new fiction from my friend, fellow author, fellow blogger, and co-author of our Groovy Cool Adventures, Dan Leicht. He is sharing his flash fiction with my readers, while I am doing the same thing on his blog. So please visit his blog to read my piece of flash fiction.

Dan Leicht (otherwise known as D.e.e.L), an indie author from Rochester, New York, is the author of Blissfire as well as the Charles Splints stories. Indie publishing was something he sought out for his first book Blissfire and has since used it as a means to keep bringing out new content while always having something else in the works. Through indie publishing he has been able to meet a great community of writers that share his passion and ideals. He’s done the Indie Author Interviews as a means to get to know more of these writers and hear about their personal journeys with indie publishing.

Now, enjoy his piece of flash fiction and then keep on reading to know where you can interact with him and know more about  his writing.

Saturdays at Midnight – By Dan Leicht

She’s out in the dumpster again. Every Saturday at midnight she goes out there to sift through other’s “discarded treasures” as she calls them. There isn’t anything criminal about it; at least I don’t think there is. Much of our apartment has become a new home to so many rejected closets. She actually found a suit for me out there a month ago, granted it’s not the latest fashion.

I used to help her, sifting through the replenishing bounty each weekend, but I soon found myself falling into the intoxication of it all. Why buy anything new when there is so much thrown away each day? Our bed, covered in foreign stains lay on the floor beside the wall of our one bedroom apartment. A dresser missing a drawer holds her socks and shirts. This little home of ours is running out of space.

I try to sell what I can online, doing my best to hide my efforts from her. She grows attached to each item, as I once did. I lost my job because they found me rummaging through the dumpster out back during my lunch hour. So much was being thrown away! Unopened packs of paper, perfectly good staplers, even half used containers of hand sanitizer. It made no sense! There was so much of it! But… I’ve stopped myself, and I’m going to help her stop once I can sell enough to cover this month’s rent. She needs to find something big tonight. We really do need a “treasure”.

“Baby, you’re not going to believe what I found tonight,” she says from the doorway with her right arm still out of sight.

“Is it another stuffed animal? Because we really don’t need more of those,” I reply as I point to the stuffed corner.

“Nope. Guess again.”

“I give up. What is it?”

She walks in with a small box in her hand. She places it on the table and opens it up like a treasure chest. I roll my eyes and walk over to see what she’s glowing about. I look in and soon my face is glowing too. Inside the box there are three different colored vials. The news just covered a story about these earlier this week.

“Which one do you want?” she asks me as she eyes the green one.

“I’ll take the blue.”

She grabs for the green and drinks it down before I even touch mine. Her smile lights up as the hairs on her arms rise up and she begins to lift from the ground. I drink mine and look over to the mattress on the floor. I concentrate and soon find myself standing atop it without having moved my legs.

“You can teleport!” she yells.

“You can fly!” I yell back.

“You can both shut up and go to bed!” shouts Ben from next-door.

11179849_10152850054768977_7545297_oIf you have liked this piece of flash fiction, please give it a like, leave some comment for the author, and stalk him around by using the following links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Deeliopunk

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Deeliopunk

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/D.e.e.L/e/B00PG4YTGG/

Deeliopunk Blog – http://deeliopunk.com/

Dan Leicht Site – http://danleicht.com/

Tumblr – https://www.tumblr.com/blog/deeliopunk

Tsu: http://www.tsu.co/Deeliopunk

Flash Fiction Friday with Cinta Garcia de la Rosa @CintaNani78 – #FridayReads

Featured Image -- 2878

Originally posted on Dan Leicht:

Flash Fiction Friday with Cinta Garcia de la Rosa

11158170_10153270831383656_250505999_n

WOBBLY

– By Cinta Garcia de la Rosa


“Here we go with the wobbly parade.” Rachel gestured at the people passing by on the sidewalk.

“Wobbly parade?” Henry asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Look at the woman in red.”

“The one crossing the street?”

View original 323 more words

#AtoZChallenge: Bars Fight, a Poem by Lucy Terry

TBars Fight

August, twas the twenty-fifth,
Seventeen houndred forty-six,
The Indians did in ambush lay,
Some very valiant men to slay
Twas nigh unto Sam Dickinson’s mill,
The Indians there five men did kill.
The names of whom I’ll not leave out,
Samuel Allen like a hero foute,
And though he was so brave and bold,
His face no more shall we behold.
Eleazer Hawks was killed outright,
Before he had time to fight,
Before he did the Indians see,
Was shot and killed immediately.
Oliver Amsden he was slain,
Which caused his friends much grief pain.
Simeon Amsden they found dead
Not many rods from Oliver’s head.
Adonijah Gillett, we do hear,
Did lose his life which was so dear.
John Sadler fled across the water,
And thus escaped the dreadful slaughter.
Eunice Allen see the Indians comeing
And hoped to save herself by running:
And had not her petticoats stopt her,
The awful creatures had not cotched her,
Not tommyhawked her on the head,
And left her on the ground for dead.
Young Samuel Allen, Oh! lack-a-day!
Was taken and carried to Canada.

Lucy Terry Prince

Lucy Terry (c.1730-1821) is the author of the oldest known work of literature by an African American. Terry was stolen from Africa and sold into slavery as an infant. She was owned by Ebenezer Wells of Deerfield, who allowed her to be baptized into the Christian faith at about five years of age during the Great Awakening.

#AtoZChallenge: New, a Poem by Gertrude Stein

SNew

We knew.
Anne to come.
Anne to come.
Be new.
Be new too.
Anne to come
Anne to come
Be new
Be new too.
And anew.
Anne to come.
Anne anew.
Anne do come.
Anne do come too, to come and to come not to come and as to
and new, and new too.
Anne do come.
Anne knew.
Anne to come.
Anne anew.
Anne to come.
And as new.
Anne to come to come too.
Half of it.
Was she
Windows
Was she
Or mine
Was she
Or as she
For she or she or sure.
Enable her to say.
And enable her to say.
Or half way.
Sitting down.
Half sitting down.
And another way.
Their ships
And please.
As the other side.
And another side
Incoming
Favorable and be fought.
Adds to it.
In half.
Take the place of take the place of take the place of taking
place.
Take the place of in places.
Take the place of taken in place of places.
Take the place of it, she takes it in the place of it. In the way
of arches architecture.
Who has seen shown
You do.
Hoodoo.
If can in countenance to countenance a countenance as in as
seen.
Change it.
Not nearly so much.
He had.
She had.
Had she.
He had nearly very nearly as much.
She had very nearly as much as had had.
Had she.
She had.
Loose loosen, Loose losten to losten, to lose.
Many.
If a little if as little if as little as that.
If as little as that, if it is as little as that that is if it is very nearly all of it, her dear her dear does not mention a ball at all.
Actually.
As to this.
Actually as to this.
High or do you do it.
Actually as to this high or do you do it.
Not how do you do it.
Actually as to this.
Not having been or not having been nor having been or not
having been.
Interrupted.
All of this makes it unanxiously.
Feel so.
Add to it.
As add to it.
He.
He.
As add to it.
As add to it.
As he
As he as add to it.
He.
As he
Add to it.
Not so far.
Constantly as seen.
Not as far as to mean.
I mean I mean.
Constantly.
As far.
So far.
Forbore.
He forbore.
To forbear.
Their forbears.
Plainly.
In so far.
Instance.
For instance.
In so far.

Gertrude Stein

Gertrude Stein was an American writer, poet and art collector who spent most of her life in France.