Few things sneak past my Ozark grandmother—and that includes the wonder, mischief, and brutality of Mother Nature. Born in 1924, Granny Hollis remembers horse and wagon (I kid you not) that her father drove. Down gravel roads, he maneuvered the horses to carry wife and children to a small town, not much more than a [...]

Our theme for July is The Cento—a put-together poem, a patchwork if you will, of words from others. What follows is not a Cento and will not tell you what a Cento is, but we’re okay with that. We tell our writers to “be creative,” and that’s what Karen Swallow Prior has been by writing [...]

Here at T. S. Poetry, nothing could make us happier than when a person discovers poems.

I miss you, my friend.

Oliver called hospice the next day. The nurses came and went like ghosts...

The watchers started laughing in her head and she put her fingers to her temples.

The moon was slowly rising over the poster board horizon—its waxing gibbous a face turned away from their party.

For a woman who needs nursing care every few hours…It’s just too risky.

“What I wouldn’t give to see the ocean one more time before I die.”