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Hannibal's profile

AGE: 48
LOC: Harrisonburg, VA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: November 01

I am a pastry chef by trade.
My mornings are early and quiet. Every thing I create is measured, mixed, set aside to rest and then it’s put to the fire and brought out with careful timing, whole and completed.
I sit for espresso on the front porch while the sun still sleeps. I am a craftsman. My hands bring life into form.

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Items

Version 1

0 Reviews 0 Comments

It caught me unawares, its’ fleecy fingers purple -beyond the schoolyard gate, I stood, transfixed. Within the walls, the children heard of letters building phrases, Without; the strangled glove spoke eloquence. Its’ martyred absence destitute, forgotten by decision a childish impulse - “Why bring gloves indoors?” This cast off palm, dismembered, high crime of eager innocents, its’ presence, testimony to the rules of selfishness. My own friends once pl...

Version 1

3 Reviews 3 Comments

There are many stories we are born to tell. There are stories we tell one another. There are stories we tell to ourselves. There are stories we hold on to dearly and tell to no one. Within our stories are the seeds of beginnings. Within our stories are the fruits’ harvest, finished. Within our stories, we bear forth our witness, through these seasons new turning, and returning our paths to this place, here and now, in this day where we look and we listen. And we know in our hear...

Version 1

1 Review 0 Comments

Poetry - Overall

Version 2

2 Reviews 2 Comments

Our Father, above the world All holy, you give the word Your kingdom, reign in my heart To lead us, in our new start (Chorus:) When other souls have hurt me, only you can heal You will not desert me, however bad I feel You recognize your children, even as we stray You our take away our burden, and give the right to say... Our Father, you are the way Among us, you’ll always stay Please give us, this holy day And feed us, your holy br...

Version 1

1 Review 2 Comments

We are warmed by the fire, not the smoke of the flame. We arrive by the ship, not the wake in its course. In the depths, our true self, hidden holy from name, while our activities dimly reflect their source. If I ask you to look your own eye in the eye, you may only claim sight as you regard another. So are you, in the light of your truthful souls life, to be found in the grace of the will of the Father. When you seek to create your own glory’s regale, you’re an anxious ma...

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Reviews

by Anonymous

In the second line, the count seems off, perhaps try "with no means to obtain assurance" The last two lines don't seem to follow the usual limerick form in rhyme or rhythm. Was that intentional? As for the content of the poem, I can't make sense of it. How does Obama fit in?

by Cynthia23

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by GEMINI66

I like this poem but I feel distracted with so many pronouns, "...his...he...he's..." I suggest removing all of them, then replacing only the ones necessary. It is poetry, so the rules can be relaxed a little. Good work.

by groovieknave

Wow, what a trip to follow that package. The story was very engrossing, (and just plain gross at times.) Maybe I'm a prude, but I would suggest toning down the ick factor on some of the "handlers", "...wiped his ass with the pages of the latest Hustler." Yuck. As a critic, I plowed on; as a reader, you would have lost me early on. I like the way the delivery becomes increasingly implausible as it progresses. However, I'm still scratching my head over the white woman. Is the she some sort of a...

by garfocus

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