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Congratulations to the winners of the SMU 2007-2008 Creative Writing Awards!
Winners in the Fiction category include: Lindsay Golder, first place for "Raspberry Jam Pie;" Rob Gordon Bralver, second place for "And So;" and Ching-Ying (Sunny) Huang, runner up for "Let Go of Their Hands."
Poetry Award winners include: Beau Rice, first place; K. O'Toole, second place; and Osman Ahmed, runner up.
Click here to read winning entries!
Current Features
“Yes—“
“Martin Holloway, good to meet you. Please come in,” Martin said, taking Ms. Sullivan’s arm and leading her towards his office.
She looked down at his hand on her suit jacket and thought it was nice to be touched by a man, even just skin on cloth, and even if the touch was far from sexual. The one thing she hadn’t been able to get in the divorce was her ex-husband’s dick, and for that she was very sorry. She hadn't known it at the time, but it had been her favorite part of their marriage, and she missed it terribly.
... more
H H
H H
HhhhhH
H H
H H e said, “Man, I’m about to cry.”
He said, “You can’t trust nobody
not even your kinfolk.”
He said, “Man, are you on the streets too?”
I looked at him and opened my mouth waitin’
for words of gratitude
for his not asking
for union shelter money,
only asking that I listen
for the wisdom in his story
... more
Of course he’ll come.
He’s on his way now.
Pianist:
A-B-D-D-E-D-D-G-G-A-A
| A-B-A-D-D-E-D-G | A-B-A-B-G | D-B-A-G
Poet:
A
girl sings to a piano man;
all
breath and eyes pursue.
A
steps to B, B swoons for D
and
how my ears ache with glee
as
the room morphs to sound:
people
in their chairs cease to be
more
than bodies in the path of G
I would give my left
nut for one night
with Natalie Portman.
Others might blurt something like this in
hyperbolic jest
to get their points across
or for a good laugh,
but not me.
By this point, Mr. Aubade was undoubtedly in love with Elba. Of course, there was not really much he could do about it, but there it was, staring back at him in the mirror when he brushed his teeth every morning; snapping, crackling, and popping at him every time he ate his breakfast cereal. It even followed him to work, quietly humming with the static that his car radio couldn’t seem to shake. Elba, Elba, Elba, said the static. No, no, no, replied Mr. Aubade, without much conviction.
