Fabian G. Franklin

"The salvation of man is through love and in love." From Man's Search For Meaning by Viktor E. Frankl

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"Whatever you see: sky, sea, clouds, earth,

All things are begun and ended by my hand.

Care of the vast world is in my hands alone,

And mine the governance of the turning pole.

When I choose to send Peace, from tranquil houses,

Freely she walks the roads, and ceaselessly:

The whole world would drown in bloodstained slaughter

If rigid barriers failed to hold war in check."

Ovid: Book One of Fasti
Between 1945 and 1962 the United States conducted 331 atmospheric nuclear tests. The radioactive half- life expectancy of released particles ranges from 24,000 years for Plutonium 239 to 700 million years for Uranium 235 . These are only the bombs tested by the USA. Do you think that may have some impact on cancer related deaths worldwide? More recently, Associated Press reports that 90% of all the U.S. Nuclear reactors are leaking radiation at levels above accepted safety standards. There's something to think about the next time you hear of someone dying from cancer.These do not include underwater tests which were more than a few...contamination of atmosphere, water, soil, plants and animals as well as humans themselves exposed. Mankind is at the top of the food chain but we certainly are a stupid species.












Feng Shui of the Written Word
A Poem by C. Harter Amos


Well past midnight I close my eyes,
and old terrors come to call,
An angel whispers in my ear
as it flies past on ancient wings,
A melody echoes in my heart,
or drops of dew fall from my hair
splashing me with inspiration:
a single word, a turn of phrase,
some piece of spirit that calls out to be heard.

The words fit nicely
into notches in my imagination
where meaning lays itself bare.
I search with a musician’s ear
for the one and only word
that fits there,
The feng shui of the written word.

Years ago
poems spilled out
full of hormones and angst,
suffering and loss,
but now they move slowly,
they kick back and yawn their way out.
They laze in the back of my mind,
in an imaginary hammock
among tall pines in blue shaded mountains
and enjoy themselves,
each poem like contented, well kissed lips
like warm chocolate covered cherries
just waiting to be savored.

© 2007 C. Harter Amos
" THEY JUST SOLD ME OUT "




End of the Line
A Story by Siobhan MacIntyre


This is the end of the line on WritersCafe for me. This train lets out into an empty station.



After months of waiting to see some desperately needed changes in this once-wonderful venue, I've moved on to more mature places which are actually aimed at the craft of writing--not the crass act of grafitti-ing everything with the word vomit of immature, unschooled, hedonistic, and sometimes perverted minds.



I'm serious about the craft of writing--it is not a hobby. It's not just something I do in my spare time. I hone my talent and sharpen my edge and strive toward developing my writing voice, and I cannot stand the lackadaisical attitudes of many of the "writers" on this site who treat grammar carelessly, even derisively; who churn out tripe for their friends to fawn over. It's an insult to the writing profession, and an insult to what this site used to mean.



For those who are serious about this craft, you can find me on Twitter under my real name, or you can e-mail me. From there we can have dialogue.




So long and thanks for all the support.



© 2009 Siobhan MacIntyre

I know exactly how this wonderful writer feels...