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Everyday Event
shuddering the shadows huddled in corners, soon to be sacrificed to the glorious
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Hymn, he was
The sunrise laughter, he was— His array of morning-bird chirping humor, A tear-turned-smile: Houdini’s final quest.
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Shame on me
Back bent backwards, knees bruised blistering bloody
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Alone in the River with Who?
Sitting on an island with who? I'm not sitting here with you.
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Past, Present, Future
Be me a woman, compassionate and kind
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When I think of you, I am home
An Ode to Ammama (and Hyderabad)
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Familiar Figure
“Jas, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Amy, my friend since the fourth year of high school, stood next to a boy a few inches taller than I was. There were strands of his black hair dangling near his face like the thin legs of a spider. He was wearing a forest green long sleeve polo and light brown trousers, ironed to perfection. His face looked familiar. “Frank, I’m in my third year.” He reached out his hand. “Amy and I met in philosophy.” I looked over at Amy. A small smile was etched onto her usually banal expression. “Jasper, second year. Have we met before?” I replied. He…
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Pistachio Meditation
—–Hymns – i found god in lonesomeness glory in solitude i go hours without speaking and equally as many without shutting up – i pray into my kitchen cabinets as i make myself lunch at four thirty i tell them about my imaginings and have conversations with nobody – i dip my hands in flat diet coke and cross myself i allow myself to give in to the dizziness and listen to the hymn that my blood pumps through my brain. — — —– Red There was a red car. Parked. Red like those cinnamon hearts my grandma used to let me try, the ones that made my tongue burn.…
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Exotic Fish
It is a starved town. Bone-white houses pave the beach like conches and oysters, although these oysters are bereft of pearls. Towards the edge of the town most distant from the beach, a thin train track etches its way through the sand to a run-down station and a dosing ticket-taker. The metal rails of the track are faded and frail, like the ribs of cattle skeletons that warn of a desert’s heat. Trains pass by the town infrequently, billowing out waves of smoke and silt which mix with the sand and vanish in minutes. Boats lie, grounded, anywhere between the beach and the station, some boarded up and full of…
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Short Story Competition
UPDATE: Submissions are now closed! Thank you to all participants. Calling all writers! Do you want to share your creative writing with UBC’s English community? Now is your chance! The ESA is hosting a short story competition where all UBC students can submit their creative work to be posted on the blog. The ESA’s members will then vote on their favourite submission to select a winner and two runner-ups. Prizes will be rewarded to all top three participants, with first-place featuring an opportunity to have their work included in the English department’s alumni newsletter. The prizes will be revealed in mid-January. This is an excellent opportunity to get your name…