The Excellent Writer Within

The secret to excellent writing is to enjoy with ecstatic abandonment each letter and syllable we put down on paper. The pure joy of writing makes us successes; nothing else will. Those who tell us we have to struggle and sweat have not grasped true meaning in their lives. We need no approval of any human to be a success.

She Comes in the Night

She comes in the night, sleek and evil.

Beware of the Night: this beautiful killer,
exquisite predator, demon.

Wolves roaming, blood thirsty.

She is waiting to devour your soul and your children.

On My Knees

When I am on my knees
& my head is bowed,
don’t count me out.
I am trying to decide
if I am coming back
as fire or ice, but
trust me,
I am coming back.

The Real Question

Could you will to enquire where we are caught,
And why the ball of fire has not touched us?
Give it some time, give what’s been said a thought
Before you put your questions, making fuss.

Goldfish Doesn’t Envy Cat

Yet here we are, we fuss and fight;
We shout at dark and envy light;
We push we pull we play the game
Of right and wrong; the blame and shame.

The Perfume River

Gleaming entropy through decaying eyes,
Whimpers not howls, gasping shade, not fury,
Slowly, swollen, sour sweetly, grimly we go, grimly,
Down the perfume river.

‘Writing Is Art, a Calling’

Author T C Weber is a morning person, and he begins his day with what he loves doing most: writing. In an exclusive email interaction with The Literary Juggernaut, Mr Weber, who is a member of Poets & Writers and the Maryland Writers Association, says when working on a novel, his goal is to write one scene each day, schedule permitting. ‘I ensure that I write something every morning, even if it’s just random thoughts or a few paragraphs. Long scenes may take several days,’ explains the author, who also knows to speak Spanish besides a bit of Russian and Japanese.

World of Play

The stars greatly glowed when the night was young,
And the moonlight gleamed, glistened upon seas;
It looked as if the stars were lights well strung
By men who would prize nothing but calm, peace.

My Wolf

Why does such a powerful wolf as he,
seem almost shy in this game he plays?
So close yet just out of reach.
Listen, to the beauty and sadness as it resonates
throughout this night and my soul;
as he throws back his head
and opens his soul and song to this winter moon.

Tricolor Profaned

Pretentious men sat, watched the harm,
Recalling to word their dead thought;
Observed was chaos; there was no calm!
Farm laws were blamed and farmers bought.

Pandemic Plagiarised

Pandemic plagiarised plagiarised plagues
Plagued pure places, preyed ‘pon poor people
Plotted, planned, plunged persistently
Placed plain pain, pessimism, pricks
Plundered positivism
Pained planet proudly
Pauperised peeps
Pressed paupers
Provoked
Pawns

Conversations With Ghosts

“I do.”
It’s a whisper in the touch of his nose
on mine & the way it collides
with my skin;
how he feels like a phantom even
when he’s within
reach. Then again, he’s never
within reach anymore.

Gone With the Wind

The morning did beam when the sunlight flared,
Awakening worlds then asleep in men;
It made them alight from their homely den
While raging winds clavered, determined, dared.

Deriving Strength and Courage

What gives us pure pleasure is after all loving those who do abhor us;
So you and sure I shall esteem those who hate us but not once defeat, trim
The strength we’ve attained hitherto by just being loved by those we’d hate, cuss.

Reigning and Feigning

Oh, he reigned in the field, fooling those watching him,
And he feigned innocence, made us believe his lies.

The World Is But a Speck of Dust

Hence, worlds that exist in our very small vision
Are just lies mirroring truth;
But what the true truth does is work illusion
Thus causing pain, agony, and ruth.

Stilled Waters, Serene Scene

The waters of the seas are stilled
And the serene moon
Casts its benign regard
Over the placid scene below
Dispensing blandishments
Upon the seascape entire

Love and Hate

Each who has wronged me does deserve to be abhorred.
And so, not once will I ever want to think that
No one’s my foe and that world’s friendly, lovely, great.
For I’m quite strongly of this sound opinion that
There’s no mates in the real world that we dwell in.

Testimonials

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Jesse S Frankel

To the owners and operators of The Literary Juggernaut, I’d like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to express my thoughts in an interview I recently did for you. Many authors try to get some form of public recognition and publicity for their efforts; you have given me both. I only wish that more blog sites would do the same!

As a writer, it is never easy. We spend long hours writing and rewriting, advertising on Twitter and other forums, chatting with fellow writers on techniques, and just plain doodling around until inspiration hits. It is good to know sites like yours exist that help us spread the word about our work.

Once again, my greatest thanks!

Erich von Hungen

Having been interviewed by Vatsarah Stavyah (you can read the interview here), I can say that The Literary Juggernaut is AHEAD OF THE PACK. It is perceptive, astute, caring. It is curious, interested, unafraid, committed. It is there. It is all that you would most want from a literary journal, especially now with so much overload. It is a path, that is, to something new and true and real. Of all the journals out there, The Literary Juggernaut is just that, a juggernaut, and it is worth your time. Trust it. Read it.

Kelly Miller

I wanted to thank you for interviewing me on your e-gazette, The Literary Juggernaut. You posed a number of interesting questions, and it was a wonderful experience.

Without the support of a big publishing house, indie authors must find every opportunity they can to reach new readers. Your efforts to spotlight indie authors and their work, introducing them to your readers is much appreciated!