Archive for the ‘Read the Journal’ Category

Letter from a Friend of Fine Lines

Sunday, December 18th, 2011

The attached letter from a new writer to Fine Lines (Shawnelle Alley, Fremont, NE) arrived just in time for the holidays. I could not have wished for a better present. Her wonderful expression of what a new writer feels like to be published is the reason we have continued to develop Fine Lines and reach out to “young writers of all ages” these past twenty years.

Dear David Martin,

I understand that I am now published twice by you; once online and once in print! Amazing!! Perhaps I am in shock, I don’t know if I should laugh, or cry, or both.

(more…)

“The Doors of Then” a poem by Shawnelle Alley

Thursday, December 1st, 2011

 The Doors of Then

Shawnelle Alley [Shawnelle@theAlleys.us]

It wasn’t a dream, but it repeated

Then

Blurred together like finger-paint memories
Cement gray floors of confinement, tears fall
Where chunks are missing, though time crawls forward
Hugging splotchy white cinderblock walls
Rays of anticipation peek through rotting windows
Their musty lover growing moldy black specs
Clinging, like little sisters to their solid love

(more…)

Purchase the Fall Edition this Week!

Sunday, November 20th, 2011

Fine Lines Fall 2011

Strange Addiction by Grace Magisana

Monday, November 7th, 2011

Strange Addiction

Grace Magisana

I wondered why I had suddenly gotten the urge to rush outside and stuff butternut squash in my ears and up my nose. I wondered why I had an hour before run outside and stuffed peas in my pants. I wondered where the can was. I had just gone to the bathroom and discovered peas in my underwear. I knew then that my craving had taken over.

I am a vegetable overeater! I sighed. I went back to my room and flicked on the light. I gasped!

The room was a disaster area! Broccoli was on my pillow. A bag of frozen lima beans was strewn on my lampshade. Carrots spelled “VEGGIEZ” on my keyboard. Corn was smeared on my window. I remembered opening a bottle of ranch dressing and glugging it down. Then, I painted my name on the walls with tomatoes.

I slapped my forehead. I had thrown myself a veggie party! I slumped into a chair. CRUNCH!! I got up. I just sat on a clump of zucchini.

It was time for an appointment with Dr. Turnipheart. The wimp. (more…)

Purchase the Summer 2011 Edition Now!

Monday, August 29th, 2011

Buy the summer edition now!

Click on the cover to purchase the Summer 2011 edition and other great Fine Lines editions as well!

“Thank you Fine Lines!” An open letter

Wednesday, May 25th, 2011

Dear Fine Lines:

I would love to share information regarding Fine Lines with anyone and everyone who is interested. Let me tell you my story of the first time I was published in this publication.

I was divorced, alone, sad, and at the Southpointe Mall in Lincoln, Nebraska, shopping for a new shower curtain at Bed Bath and Beyond. It was rainy; the selection of shower curtains was overwhelming, and I really didn’t care anyway. So I went to Barnes and Noble and got a cup of coffee. I walked over to the magazine section, and Fine Lines was sitting there on the shelf, with my name (Dorothy Apley) on the front cover, listed with the other writers whose works were included in that issue.
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Ocean by Jackie Byers

Monday, April 11th, 2011

Ocean

by Jackie Byers

There is a certain shape in me
That dreads the sea,
so I go down to the shore.
Once more I stride the grit
study the wind tossed foam
taste cold salt sea spray
And try
To drive the demon away.

He retreats a bit
But lurks beneath
The awe of boundless beauty
The thrill of perfect power
Purifying
Peace instilling
But never still.
Potential for disaster
Life unbridled, rampant, raging.
A wet blue heaven wrapped around earth
Nourishing teeming life
Gnawing at the granite edges
beginning and ending of all.

Words by Christine Janak

Saturday, April 2nd, 2011

Welcome to National Poetry Month! Enjoy poems from Fine Lines and feel free to write and share your own!

Words

by Christine Janak

A violent hurricane of words
Shook the house.

They seeped through the cracks in the ceiling
And crawled under the doors.

They slithered up the staircase
And bled through the walls.

Thousands of fire-red ants
Seared pinholes into my flesh.

Words were thrown
Like crumpled tissues into a waste-bin.

I sat on my bedroom floor
With my knees crushed against my chest
As truth gobbled me up like a Sunday feast.