Why we're here.

A creative writing blog by Shawn M Klimek / Twitter: @shawnmklimek
(All rights reserved)

Friday, November 13, 2020


I recently completed the task of helping to select and edit speculative fiction poems for this anthology, due to be published very soon. I'm confident that readers will be delighted with the variety and quality of this volume. 

Five of my own speculative fiction poems will be included: 

Mary Crockett's Garden

Primordial Princess

Survival of the Humblest

Body of Proof

Rockets Blast, Achoo (a haiku)

I'll post the purchase links when the anthology becomes available. 

http://paperdjinnpress.com/anthology/

Saturday, August 22, 2020

Purple Ribbons Were Falling All Around Her

Falling, falling all around, falling around her,
In the marshes where the gentle breezes grasses stir,
Purple, purple, ribbons, ribbons, purple ribbons were
Falling, falling, falling, falling, falling around her!

Croaked the crickets to the toads and dragonflies ablur,
Purple, purple, ribbons, ribbons, purple ribbons were
Calling, calling all around, by whisper, song, and purr
Falling, falling all around, falling around her!

Chirper, croaker, quacker, tweeter, hisser, whisperer,
Buzzer, screecher: creatures each to each as each prefer,
Calling, calling, to the falling, falling each refer:
Purple, purple, ribbons, ribbons, purple ribbons were!

Where exactly, begged the ducks and drakes, did this occur?
Purple, purple, ribbons, ribbons, purple ribbons were
In the marshes where the gentle breezes grasses stir,
Falling, falling, falling, falling, falling around her!


Originally published in "Inner Circle Writers' Magazine, Issue #4, 2019"; composed in response to the title as a prompt challenge)

Thursday, May 7, 2020

Daddy's Job is Dangerous

Daddy’s job is dangerous, which must explain his fame.
Total strangers recognize him by the badge that bears his name.
We may watch him from a distance—never near while he’s at toil,
Since to his front is scorching steel; beside him, boiling oil.
Though mobs may separate us, love is not deterred by that.
He simply waves his spatula or tips his paper hat.

Tuesday, March 3, 2020

Horrible Six-word Stories

Suicidal, a bullet changed her mind.

In the corpse’s fist: angel feathers.

The autopsy revealed a beating heart.

The earthworms spelled out, “I’m alive.”

Death came early. “Typical”, she said.

The children made bloody snow angels.

Sunday, March 1, 2020

Pixie The Pixie

Pixie, the Pixie, deplored that her name
And descriptor were spoken and written the same.
She despised superfluity and superabundance; She
Disliked repetitiveness and likewise redundancy.
Each day she recited this rote, self-defeating:
"Once and for all is a phrase worth repeating,"
Which sums up our ditty and wraps up our rhyme.
For your homework now, read it through twice, one more time.

Thursday, January 2, 2020

HUNGRY THING now available for sale online!




Since where our yard ends, wilds abound,
We thought it fine to let our hound
Roam as he liked. No neighbors could complain.
Each night, he'd bark and bay and snort
At woodland critters, just for sport,
Then bring home bones of every sort.
You know how that is.
Then one night—silence. All in vain
We searched until the trail went cold.
Our worries lingered unconsoled.
What if he'd met the thing that gobbled Gladys?







Over and above the 126 poem and story acceptances I had in 2019, I am probably proudest of this self-published fantasy story, told in five poems and illustrated by the talented Romanian surrealist, Norbert Somosi. It was published as a book shortly before Christmas. Moments ago, as I write this, a much-admired writer-friend of mine and the first person to buy the book sent me this message: 
"I finished reading Hungry Thing and loved every bit of it. I mean really loved it."