Uproar is now accepting submissions for November 2020. This month, participants are welcome to submit work of any genre or theme. We look forward to reading your work! You may submit your writing here: https://lawrencehouse.ca/uproar/theme/
Astronaut Fears By: Raveena Duggal As astronauts climb into rockets, Nervous feelings devour their mind, They start to check the controls, The rocket is getting ready to blast off, 10, 9, 8, 7, Staff are on their computers, 6, 5, 4, 3, They are making sure everything is fine, 2, 1, Astronauts are holding on,
Tonight is Halloween night There is not a single light Everyone will be in fright I hope it will be alright Kids want to grab a treat The yummiest to eat There are fairies how sweet Halloween is compete Now it is time to go from door to door The haunted house is ready to
FRIGHT The swirls at the foot of the bed have returned. I dread the blanket of sleep. Male, always male, they invade my room masquerading as shadow puppets on the front wall with the incoming streetlight. Rabbit-eared and whispering they congregate in secret burrows. Who to trust. Who to believe. A Roman Catholic priest, a
Fall: to Become the Silence (in the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg) November has threatened to enter the room. We fear exposure with our necks. Boardrooms do not grow pretty words; flat, polished business shoes suffocate us right at the stem. Leaves tremble: mouthing, wordless, they curl into coloured deaths. Outside, the wind has picked
breakage early morning avenues reveal the fragile- before they hide away to their shadows and bleak shelters- the tourette lady screams out good morning to the cripples and the homeless, i can not meet her eyes ignoring her and them into non existence i count the concrete cracks and look away, deaf to her braying-
Fear of Drowning our relationship has never been fluid I remember the first time, I screamed to the point of embarrassment and others screamed back in static echoes over time. Now when you touch me, nausea coats me with blue fear while panic attacks begin their drum roll. It’s the depth I can’t quite comprehend,
the monkeys in the wallpaper are oddly silent slipping among shadows of jungle palms in the night as we sleep unaware under our canopied beds and bed becomes forest floor under leaf canopy and the forest softly creeps into the dusky space as we sleep unaware under our canopied beds dream of dawn and a