Christopher Nielsen
Christopher Nielsen is a writer and photographer. Traveling the many back roads has provided a wealth of inspiration out in nature. He has been a featured poet at Kern Poetry. His works have appeared in Barren Magazine, Mojave Heart Review, Rabid Oak, West Texas Literary Review, Writing Sound, Writing Fields and others. Soon in The Blue Mountain Review. Visit him on the web here.
The following work is Copyright © 2020, and owned by Christopher Nielsen and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Driftwood Shelter
In the driftwood shelter,
tide out.
Pacific waves lap
gently on the shore,
stars in the sky and
on the water.
Love and I,
blanket around us
beach sand still warm
between our toes.
Light wind with
serendipitous foggy swirls,
the busy world of
ten thousand things
far, far away.
C.W. Bigelow
After receiving his B.A. in English from Colorado State University, C.W. Bigelow lived in nine northern states, both east and west, before moving south to Mooresville, NC. His short stories and poems have appeared in Full of Crow, The Flexible Persona, Literally Stories, Compass Magazine, FishFood Magazine, Five2One, Crack the Spine, Sick Lit Magazine, Brief Wilderness, Anthology: River Tales by Zimbell House Publishing, Foliate Oak Literary Journal, Midway Journal, Scarlet Leaf Review, Temptation Press Anthology – Private Lessons, Poydras Review, Cleaning Up Glitter, The Blue Mountain Review, Glassworks, Blood & Bourbon, The Courtship of Winds with stories forthcoming in Drunk Monkeys and Good Works Review. See his books on Amazon here.
The following work is Copyright © 2020, and owned by C.W. Bigelow and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Confirmation
When indestructible elm trees
lined the streets
I was sentenced to
a roomful of shadows
guarded by stacks of Bibles
every afternoon until
I was awarded a
membership in God’s club.
Skin thin wafer melting on my tongue,
and washed down with his blood
each morning before school –
my new breakfast of champion.
The vibrant sunrays
sliced the stained glass
imprisoning Biblical
figures of martyrdom.
Walking by chains of sturdy oak pews
through the inebriating scent of
Frankincense and Myrrh,
my footsteps echoed off high ceilings.
While the locks to the
imposing doors
suddenly slid
into place
as the sirens flew,
safety squandered
in the once
convivial arms.
The sturdy Elms
had fallen
victim
to Dutch Elm disease.
Limbs crashing to the ground
signaled an alarm
and Nature’s struggle
jarred me, guiding me
with the music of chainsaws
to my new pattern of
free will
outside those hallowed halls.
