Tagged art

Summer Daze, Summer Haze

by Vivian

The sun blasts through the window.

Hazy rays of light illuminating

Through the translucent pink curtains.

Specks of light fall through green leaves and little eyelids.

Little legs run through fresh-cut greens.

Silky grass grazes through little toes and tickles little armpits.

The warm air kisses the tips of little foreheads and flat noses.

“Weeeeee,” yells Prince Charming as he slides down the yellow slide

That will take him to the Fire-Breathing Dragon:

A test he must past before he can rescue Princess Peach.

“Cha-Ching” goes the lemonade stand. “Splish-Splash” in the pool all day long.

And in one blink of an eye, the little legs run off to school for the first time, ever.


The sun blasts through the window,

Leaking through magenta curtains –

The ones with glitter and girly assortments.

Shadows cast on boy-band-covered walls,

Revealing the horrid of a mess from yesterday’s first make-up run

Dirty, brown makeup wipes on the dresser and uncleaned brushes.

Strips of light shine through the window on to hot pink Hannah Montana sheets.

The active legs run down the stairs into the backyard,

Glittery pink eyelids squinting underneath a lavender hat that reads:


Walking down aisles of clothes, trying on new dresses that rumple-rumple with every move.

Flick, flick goes the red nail brush,

Coating manicured fingernails and pedicured toenails.

And in one blink of an eye, the adolescent legs run off to high school for the first time, ever.


The sun glares through the white curtains –

The ones with the floral décor.

Its disgusting brightness pierces through the tired eyes of a restless teenager.

And on the counter are polaroid pictures of friends,

Scratched out faces of frenemies, and encircled hearts of cute boys.

A bracelet catches light and shines like gold,

Bestowing promises of love and life.

As backpacks swing onto broad shoulders

And aching arms from yesterday’s rowing practice

Carry heavy books to summer classes,

The hours pass by like centuries, a voice speaking at the front of the class.

Something about Ernest Rutherford? Or was it “Earn this rusted Ford?”

“Ring-Ring,” goes the bell as the teenagers throw their papers,

“Crunch, wrinkle,” deep into the black hole at the bottom of their backpacks.

Was it the beautiful summer air that warmed all these stolen moments?

From the stolen kiss from a boy who said, “I love you,”

To the Lana del Ray sing-alongs.

And in one blink of an eye, they throw their caps into the air,

First time to be whisked away to new dorms and the Land of No Parents, ever.


The sun glares through the blinds, white and monotone.

Slightly bent, but not that broken from last Friday night.

The half empty beer bottle sits beside an e-invitation, as they laugh in pity at

The pile of returned grades beside a break-up note.

Rays of light illuminate from the curtains with the floral designs and

The familiarity hits of waking up in that old room with boy-band-covered walls.

Old memories of the warm summer air that used to kiss little foreheads and flat noses.

The warm air peaked its head out from behind the tree of leaves

Ran to greet its old friend, kissed the tip of a familiar forehead.

Once again, what lasted for only one blink ended,

As the suitcases rolled to the airport, belts got buckled,

And grumpy grown-ups got whisked away to Adult-Land.

The first time they’d wished to go back to the time of translucent pink curtains, ever.

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I’m A Warrior

by Tylia L . Flores

Photo credit: leninscape, pixabay

I may not own a sword

But I am a warrior of my own kind.

Having a condition called Cerebral Palsy

That causes me to have low muscle tone and stiffness

Throughout my whole left side of my body.

Sometimes life gets crazy

Going to specialist after specialist

Only to get the same answer that there’s no cure

But that doesn’t matter to me ’cause I’m a warrior.

Fighting my own battle every day trying to find a way to make it

As writing is my getaway to help me get through the bad days

As I remember that I’m a warrior.

Las Vegas Tales VI

Bryan: the Insurance Agent’s Tale II

by Mark Kodama


Now, as said before, Croesus had two sons.

Atys, the eldest son, the crown prince,

Was an offspring second to none

The model of courage and intelligence

Greatness, generosity and eloquence.

His second son, however, was unfit

A deaf mute, a half wit.


Morpheus visited the king in a dream

Warning Atys was to be killed by iron blade.

King Croesus awoke with a start and scream.

After his dream, all iron weapons he forbade

And his son’s position in the army stayed.

He prohibited Atys from hunting game

And sporting contests all the same.


One day, denizens from the mountain of Zeus,

Petitioned the crown prince Atys to engage

To save them from a wild boar on the loose.

No hero could stop the beast in its rage.

Atys promised to end the boar’s rampage.

Atys was by iron spear, accidentally killed

And thus King Croesus’s dream was fulfilled.


Across the desert sand, Cyrus the Great

Was building  his own spear-won empire

It was decided by the hand of fate

That Cyrus and is army should acquire

By siege engine, war horse, sword and fire

The storied cities of the Middle East

Land of Babylon and the caravans east.


Croesus feared for the freedom of his own land.

The king met with his closest advisors

To initiate an action plan

The War Council sent an ambassador

To the Delphic oracle to decipher

What defensive measures they should take

To stop the Persian King, Cyrus the Great.


So the Lydians went to Mount Parnassus

To consult the oracle at Delphi

They inquired if they attacked Cyrus

Would the venture be fated in disaster – would they die?

To which the Priestess did reply,

Uttering in a trance in the great hall:

“A mighty empire will fall.”


So Croesus led his veteran Army,

Across the desert sands to Syria

To meet Cyrus the Great and his Army

At the Cappadocian town of Pteria

The Lydian army was superior.

Croesus had the finest cavalry

And a professional hoplite infantry.


But wily Cyrus knew horses feared camels

So he attacked King Croesus’s horsemen

With his swift moving humped backed animals,

Causing the horses to panic and run.

The cavaliers fought as infantryman

And these brave men were defeated in the fight

And slain in great numbers in their flight.


King Cyrus followed Croesus to Lydia

And besieged King Croesus in Sardis

And captured his capital in 14 days,

By climbing by goat path up the precipice

And impossibly capturing his fortress.

And the unassailable mountain town

Was seized and razed to the ground.


Hapless Croesus was bound to a wood post

And set atop a sacrificial pyre.

King Cyrus said his prisoner would roast

The wood from the pyre was set afire.

Croesus’s circumstances seemed dire

He thought about his misfortune, his dead son,

He cried aloud: “Solon, Solon and Solon.”

Cyrus asked Croesus what was his lament.

When Croesus told Cyrus about Solon

And all that his meeting had meant.

Cyrus the Great’s heart was won.

He ordered the execution undone.

But the fire was now a blaze

And could not be stayed.


So Croesus, in desperation, lifted his eyes to sky

And called to the sun god for deliverance

For his infinite mercy he did apply

To save himself from ignominious deaths,

King Croesus said through parched lips.

“If you ever enjoyed one of my fatted cows,

Then please save me now.”


From nowhere, great nimbus storm clouds appeared

And then rain water began to pour down,
And the seemingly fatal fire cleared.

And now that the fire was drowned,

Cyrus made Croesus adviser to the crown

Croesus’s first advice as first counsel to Cyrus

Was to have his soldiers stop looting Sardis.

Now, that the city belonged to Cyrus

All the possessions of the city were his.


Cyrus the Great in a great battle was slain

By Scythian horsemen on the Russian plain.

A dictator threw Aesop, the fabler and seer,

Off a cliff for telling him what he needed to hear.

Solon returned to Athens where he lived in prosperity

And died peacefully of old age, very happily,

Much admired  by his friends, family and posterity.

Read more by Mark Kodama here. Follow Peaks Journal to stay updated on every new article. Join the community on Facebook, and comment on, and share your favorite articles!

Las Vegas Tales IV

Jennifer Faulle: The Young Woman’s Tale
Legend of Dusty the Racer

by Mark Kodama

Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.


Elbows to the ground. Feel the vibration.
I was the rookie racing sensation
My motorbike flies into the turn.
Smell the rubber burn.
The winner’s circle is my destination.
Hear my engine roar; feel the acceleration.
Touch my heart’s palpitation.
I go into my turn,
Elbows to the ground.
See my motorbike’s disintegration.
My dream’s conflagration.
Hear my bones break; see my skin burn.
But I will return.
Know my determination.
I’ll be back. Elbows to the ground.

Bus Driver

Miss Faullé, through no fault of your own,
Your beauty cuts to the bone.
You are every man’s fondest dream,
His repressed fantasy –
And worst nightmare.
Excuse me, if men stop and stare.
You have looks that kill
And a walk that thrills.
When you enter into a room,
Heads turn and grown men swoon.
You are the most beautiful trap,
I’ve ever seen for a start.
You put a spring in a man’s step
And murder in his heart.

The Poet

Every rose has its thorns
But no flower is more beautiful.
Every true love sworn,
Has a single soul.
Limits of my love is yet unborn,

On my heart is its emboss.
So crown my head with your thorns
And let me bear your cross.

Bus Driver

One day my mother bought a cockatiel,
Oh, such immense pride did my brother feel,
He purchased a brass cage that very day
Clipped its wings so the bird could not fly away,
Every day he changed the paper in the cage,
He obtained bird seed by his own wage.
But my brother Matt the bird chose to ignore,
For it was my sister it did adore.

My sister would take the bird on walks,
And they would have frequent talks.
The more the two friends would engage,
The more my brother became enraged.
One day my sister took the bird for a stroll.
She freed it from its string leash I am told.
To her amusement, the bird began to run,
When he took flight, it was no longer fun.
When my brother learned it escaped, he screamed,
The bird was gone so it did seem.

Years later, I met a boy who lived blocks away.
In his room, our cockatiel lived in a cage.
I did not say the bird belonged to my brother.
For now I could see it belonged to another.
Love is like a bird. You must set it free.
If she stays by choice, a good wife she will be.

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Profile: Simi Sunny

Simi Sunny is from Philadelphia, and is a published author of several novels. She has five solid years of creative writing experience, and published her first novel at 18. She loves writing, but she also loves to read. She enjoys watching anime and drawing anime-like characters when she isn’t preoccupied by a story.

IG: simisunny18 
Twitter: simisunny1.

She has credited reading and writing as being some of the more influential activities in her life.

She writes, “I have suffered from anxiety and depression, and I still try to manage them. It’s not easy, but I try to cope by doing what I love most while spending time with my loved ones.”

Her favorite genres to read are young adult, fantasy and historical fiction, with fantasy being her most favorite. The most common genres she writes in are fantasy, mystery and young adult. However, she believes that writing is an experience, so she refuses to stay within the parameters of these genres.

It’s always good to experiment with other genres when you’re having fun. If you don’t love it, then that’s ok. Part of this writing experience is to learn more about yourself.

We asked her about her upcoming  novel, The Serpent Girl. She says she got inspired to write the story after seeing a Hindi TV show called Naagin. The word Naagin comes from Hindu mythology that refers to a creature with snake powers. She’s incorporating this mythology, along with some engaging themes she’s sure readers will love. Her upcoming book is a young adult and fantasy novel about Anvi, a woman who lives in a forest as a result of being cast from home due to a deadly curse. Anvi is alone and thinks of her powers as a curse until Drishya, a 15 year-old, helps and befriends her. The story follows Drishya and Anvi as they meet various obstacles and trials.

“This is unlike other Fantasy and Young Adult books you have read recently.” 

The Serpent Girl will only be available online, in ebook form. However, Simi Sunny will distribute printed books once it becomes widely popular.

If you’re wondering about her other works, then no worries! We asked her to tell us about her first ever story, and here’s what she had to say:

I wrote fanfiction. The first one was called “The Ghost Inside.” It was a Michael Jackson fanfic, to be specific. It was based off of the mini movie that Michael created, but I made something so original. I cannot remember exactly what it’s about…

Michael is trying to escape from his mansion, since the Mayor is trying to hunt him down. He comes across a girl, who has a secret of her own. They both have some kind of connection and they bond overtime. It was an odd story, but it was no surprise that MJ fans loved it. It’s still on Wattpad, and everyone keeps talking about how that story was amazing.

She has another published book that she shared with us as well. Here’s what she had to say:

It’s a mystery novel called The White Sirens. It’s about a woman named Eliza Thorne, who wanted to start fresh in life after being released from jail. In order for her to clear her name and earn a living, she has to aid the police, thanks to great knowledge and strength when it comes to serving justice in her community.

Simi Sunny has come a long way since creating her first story. As all writers know, improvements are bound to be made as time goes on. Simi Sunny explains that her job as a writer never stops. She has never stopped actively learning how to improve her writings skills.

We asked her to tell us more about her upcoming novel, The Serpent Girl.

I want people to, not only enjoy my work, but also learn from the themes that I have
alluded to in the story. I make sure to put them in because I know all people—young and old—are struggling in life. They never had guidance, nor did they ever get any advice from people. Plus, I want to reach out to tell them that they are not alone.

There are also pieces that come from my personal experience. So I hope readers can catch that. More importantly, I do wish that they recognize that some of the themes resonate with the social issues today. I bet they can catch that as well.

Her upcoming book, as well as her other published works can be purchased on Amazon. For those who would like to read excerpts of her works, you can find them on Wattpad and Goodreads.

For writers who have doubts about publishing, she has a few words for you:

I can understand the pressure you have been going through. I have seen that with other writers, so I will say that you are not alone. I remember when I attempted to publish my first book. I was having doubts about my work. But I told myself that everything is going to be ok and “just get it over with.” Sure, it’ll be both scary and exciting, but just know that you’re doing this because you love to share your work with the world.

Q/A with Randy Mallory–A Professional Drummer

The following Q/A is with Randy Mallory, a highly talented professional drummer. His story is by far, one of the most inspiring. His story will motivate you to take the leap, despite the distance.

He's currently based in Los Angeles, but frequently travels. He's currently on tour with a Grammy nominated blues artist, but if you wish to book him...

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A Song of Seeking Within the Shadows: Discovering the True Shape of Vulnerability

Very rarely can you come across a unique piece like “The Vulnerables”. The Rapper who goes by Lafu Maton brought us to a new level of a dark, soul-crunching experience, which truly showcases the level of beauty and capability of musical expression. A special take on poetry and hip-hop, “The Vulnerables” is a song that explores on music format, pushes boundaries with lyrical content and expresses creativity in production. 

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