Down in the willow garden, where me and my true love did meet,There we sat a-courting, my love fell off to sleep – “Rose Connelly,” traditional Appalachian ballad I hear […]
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The Metaworker Literary Magazine
Where great stories are forged
Down in the willow garden, where me and my true love did meet,There we sat a-courting, my love fell off to sleep – “Rose Connelly,” traditional Appalachian ballad I hear […]
Read moreThey called me incandescent. Queens and counts, dukes and earls alike sat enthralled when I performed, swept up in a sea of notes that would swell and recede like tides. […]
Read moreGetting all the feels with SZA tonight as that rack of wine from yesterday makes its way through my wrists and ankles Sometimes a voice can bury its dead in […]
Read moreConnie Woodring is a 75-year-old retired psychotherapist/educator/social activist who is getting back to her true love of writing after 45 years in her real job. She has a B.A.in English […]
Read more“as I hunch in gnarly leather, drool, toothless,” #metaworkermonday
Read moreHome, a major chord, played to sustain. Pattern of wallpaper’s texture ingrained into décor of mind. As chorus hook plays over reminisced wonder, synapses fire to warm chills of time […]
Read moreLife is supposed to be music But we are the notes not the listeners Maybe we are God’s music Chords being strummed on some cosmic level Leftover reverberation echoing from […]
Read moreI’ve spent the last two years trying to figure out how to pull this trigger finger from my mouth and blast the sour blackness out into the sunshine. I had been […]
Read moreI joined the most well-adjusted band in America. My fault for believing. After twenty days and twenty nights I lost my lease on life with them. From them on, […]
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