Hawai‘i Literature & Art
— Since 1978 —
For the first time in a while, my back cradles this fragile new sun. My back also cradles our social contract, recently renewed three days ago: my end of the deal is two layers of spray-on sunscreen, and in return, I do not get sunburnt while tanning on my beach towel. Preserving our tacit agreement,…
I met the first one when I was seven. A classmate stole my pencil box, wouldn’t give it back; when the teacher’s back was turned, She yanked it from his desk. When he grabbed for it again, She smacked him with the box. The teacher came over. It was my word against his, and She…
From the start, I knew it wasn’t meant to be, But my heart refused to listen and set itself free. It yearned for your touch, your smile, your kiss, While you remained oblivious to my love’s bliss. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to years, As I drowned in an ocean of unrequited tears….
The Shift Kyla-Marie K. Turner ENG 431 The big classroom hall lights switch off, the rows of chairs disappearing with the fading lights. Visibly, the classroom is reduced to just the “stage”. Two podiums on opposing side at the front of the classroom, the lights in the front creating a sort of spotlight which…
Okay, it’s time to write for May. Let’s go 100 to 500 words. This month’s challenge is to use a line or sentence twice. Writing a poem? Use the same line as your first line and your last. Or repeat the line twice at the beginning or end. Or use it anywhere you like, so…
I recognize the boy climbing up the bank on the other side. Turning, he calls to me, over the rush of the river, points to where a waterfall waits, high, and deadly. He gestures not to worry, but the current is fierce here, and I’m no longer the swimmer I was in my childhood. We’re…
Snow Monkey: The Present The night is deep and dark, and I am the only visitor at the outdoor onsen on the hotel’s roof top. Fortunately, there is no wind, and my body still retains the heat from my previous cleansing. Nevertheless, a tiny towel is the only thing to guard against the winter’s chill,…
First only green at the edges and on the ground. Then the heat arriving (like an unclocked summer) greens rise and invoke daffodils, crocuses quickly bloom and quickly die from the bipolar swing of the planet’s mood back to frost. Cruelty in April makes flora think showing up will be safe, so they show up…
Fog settling on Hawaiian birds, sharp and trilling between ʻokina, repeating and echoing over searching groans of wild bulls, over boars tearing up matrixes of dense forest roots with spear-edged tusks, while swollen mango, breadfruit, avocado, and jackfruit trees smack their sappy, sticky, ripping and rotting fruit into the turning soil. A commotion, a language…
Happy April. The cruelest month, or so I’ve heard some people moan about. I say the month is what you make of it. This month we’ll write between 100 and 500 words. And because Misty is on a roll, we’re going to use another one of her ideas. The goal this month is to write…