In this episode, Tom Occhipinti continues to discuss how to write Historical Fiction.
AmericanWriters.com Podcast by Tom Occhipinti

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Do what I tell you to do
your face is like flour dough
your nose like a slant directionally
unknown like an adverb–
tossed into space.
Your hat is like an angel
wedding gown draped
over vodka body
like a Christ shield
protecting you in innocence.
It is here I kiss your lips as a total stranger;
bring myself closely to your eyes;
camp out on your [...]

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In this episode, Tom Occhipinti analyzes what successful historical novels have done and experiments with some original passages.
Whether you’re writing Historical Fiction or utilizing history within your fiction, there are a handful of things you need to consider. This episode focuses on much of the theory, and we take a [...]

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I see the spring dance all over your face in green
you were arrogant before you viewed my willow tree
outside my balcony.
Now you wave at me
with green fingers
and lime smiles.
You twist my words,
Harvard collegiate style,
right where you want them to be–
lime green, willow tree, and
dark skinned branches.
About the Author
Michael Lee Johnson is a poet and freelance [...]

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Salvation Army and
the Christians arrived today,
Christmas, like every other Sunday morning
feed the homeless, chasing the rats from the bathroom,
basement, kicking the dead flies out of the corner spots
where the cat used to lounge-
clean the toilet bowl, a form of revival and resurrection.
I privately pastor to these desires though I myself am homeless.
I forgot what it’s [...]

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I’m going to take Islam where their God has not been before-
to the garden of Jesus, olive oil presses, Gethsemane–
trees, flowers, fruits, vegetables didn’t poison anyone there.
Passion was sweat on the ground and brow.
There weren’t darts of hate, misconception or terrorism;
children on their knees five times a day brainwashed to hate.
Christ didn’t lead them [...]

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It’s calm.
Too quiet.
My clear plastic bowl
serves as my bird feeder.
I don’t hear the distant
scratching, shuffling
of tiny sparrow feet,
the wing dances, fluttering, of a hungry
morning’s lack of big band sounds.
I walk tentatively to my patio window,
spy the balcony with detective eyes.
I witness three newly hatched
toddler sparrows, curved nails, mounted
deep, in their mother’s dead, decaying back.
Their childish [...]

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