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	<title>Story Institute &#187; entry</title>
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	<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com</link>
	<description>Imagine, Enhance, &#38; Grow Your Stories</description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Holocaust &#8211; Hannah Steadman</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/12/18/poem-holocaust-hannah-steadman/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/12/18/poem-holocaust-hannah-steadman/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 18 Dec 2009 17:02:41 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hannah Steadman]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Holocaust]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2936</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Holocaust © 2009 – Hannah Ruth Steadman The bluebird chirps of love tonight As two form one in close embrace. Love’s power strains beyond all might To ease the ache of life’s hard race. Vain words of hope he breathes this hour; She sobs the more as daybreak comes. A tyrant grasps them in his [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/12/18/poem-holocaust-hannah-steadman/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Poem &#8211; Dour Girl &#8211; Lianna Albrizio</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/12/18/poem-dour-girl-lianna-albrizio/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/12/18/poem-dour-girl-lianna-albrizio/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 18 Dec 2009 16:49:25 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Lianna Albrizio]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[self refl]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[self reflection]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2934</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Dour Girl © 2009 – Lianna Albrizio Every morning she arises to a routine feeling of despair. She picks up a pen to begin to write, attempting to cleanse her mind of self-deprecating thoughts that bite. She puts on a black t-shirt to match her mood, and applies mascara called &#8220;blackout&#8221; to accent her mysterious [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Poem &#8211; Who Are You &#8211; Damien Livingston</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/09/27/poem-who-are-you-damien-livingston/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/09/27/poem-who-are-you-damien-livingston/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 27 Sep 2009 12:29:48 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Damien Livingston]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[self reflection]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2801</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Who Are You? © 2009 – Damien Livingston Sometimes I question myself When I begin to do things, I never done before Is this maturity, am I bettering myself Or is this post teen peer pressure where I following a flock Who are you? Sometimes you have to ask Because people have motives What are [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/09/27/poem-who-are-you-damien-livingston/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Poem &#8211; My Lover, My Friend &#8211; Crystal Robin Rose</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/09/06/poem-my-lover-my-friend-crystal-robin-rose/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/09/06/poem-my-lover-my-friend-crystal-robin-rose/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 07 Sep 2009 02:35:36 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Crystal Robin Rose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[My Lover My Friend]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[romantic]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2736</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[My Lover, My Friend © 2009 Crystal Robin Rose Butterflies, goose bumps, even chills, When I’m with you that’s how I feel. Holding you tight oh so close, Being a part of your life is what I love the most. My eyes sparkle, my face glows, How much you mean to me you’ll never know. [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/09/06/poem-my-lover-my-friend-crystal-robin-rose/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Poem &#8211; The Machine: Time Driven &#8211; Cathy P. Staley</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/09/06/poem-he-machine-time-driven-cathy-p-staley/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/09/06/poem-he-machine-time-driven-cathy-p-staley/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 07 Sep 2009 02:30:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Cathy P Staley]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[The Machine]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2734</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Machine: Time Driven © 2009 Cathy P. Staley Metal pieces, The ocean breeze, An open door, As if to say, &#8220;Hello.&#8221; The blood of man. Stood up there, And through his lips spoke to the world, But throught the world is where his words now lay scatered. Time passes by, An old man died, [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/09/06/poem-he-machine-time-driven-cathy-p-staley/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Story Institute RamblingVerser &#8211; Episode 15</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/05/16/story-institute-ramblingverser-episode-15/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/05/16/story-institute-ramblingverser-episode-15/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 17 May 2009 02:01:10 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[RamblingVerser Podcast]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry contest]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2391</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This week&#8217;s show features other entries to our poetry contest and some general thoughts and prompts for writing&#8230;sit back, relax, and enjoy the show&#8230; Quote &#8211; Isaac Asimov &#8211; &#8220;You must keep sending work out; you must never let a manuscript do nothing but eat its head off in a drawer. You send that work [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/05/16/story-institute-ramblingverser-episode-15/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Poem &#8211; Sickness &#8211; Jamie Lynn Waters</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/05/02/poem-sickness-jamie-lynn-waters/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/05/02/poem-sickness-jamie-lynn-waters/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 02 May 2009 12:10:33 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jamie Lynn Waters]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sickness]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2380</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Sickness © 2009 Jamie Lynn Waters Sickness is a sad thing, Watching the color fade from your face, Wondering how your yesterdays are, Did you live it to the fullest, Or was it just a mistake, regret, or nothing at all, It could be today, It could be tomorrow, I’m not looking for the sorrow, [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/05/02/poem-sickness-jamie-lynn-waters/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Poem &#8211; Waver &#8211; Heather Jo Besley</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/05/02/poem-waver-heather-jo-besley/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/05/02/poem-waver-heather-jo-besley/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 02 May 2009 12:04:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Heather Jo Besley]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Waver]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2377</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Waver © 2009 Heather Jo Besley To move without effort Elegance, ease Wind tossed and light Sweet spray of the sea Perfect or poor To wait? To leave? Decide; abide With a quivering lip As the blue ocean sighs]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/05/02/poem-waver-heather-jo-besley/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Short Story &#8211; Alive &#8211; Cacy Ann Minter</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/04/11/short-story-alive-cacy-ann-minter/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/04/11/short-story-alive-cacy-ann-minter/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 12 Apr 2009 02:20:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Story Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Alive]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Cacy Ann Minter]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[horror]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2368</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Alive © 2009 Cacy Ann Minter I didn’t know where I was when I woke up. I was aware of a pressing sensation on my chest, but couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. I tried to look around and realized my field of vision was limited to the area directly in front of [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/04/11/short-story-alive-cacy-ann-minter/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Short Story &#8211; Kaylee&#8217;s Quarter &#8211; Rebecca Laskowitz</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/04/05/short-story-kaylees-quarter-rebecca-laskowitz/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/04/05/short-story-kaylees-quarter-rebecca-laskowitz/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 05 Apr 2009 12:55:09 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Story Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[general fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rebecca Laskowitz]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2341</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Kaylee&#8217;s Quarter © 2009 &#8211; Rebecca Laskowitz Kaylee grasped her mother’s hand as they made their way up the icy stone walkway. Snow covered the edge of the path where flowers usually blossomed during the spring. She watched her step so as not to fall and ruin her new pink puffy coat. It was her [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/04/05/short-story-kaylees-quarter-rebecca-laskowitz/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Short Story &#8211; The Final Fortress &#8211; Rebecca Laskowitz</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/04/05/short-story-the-final-fortress-rebecca-laskowitz/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/04/05/short-story-the-final-fortress-rebecca-laskowitz/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 05 Apr 2009 12:45:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Story Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[general fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rebecca Laskowitz]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2339</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Final Fortress © 2009 &#8211; Rebecca Laskowitz There wasn’t much time left. Philip knew this. The entire village knew as well. What did they have? Hours? Very unlikely. More like minutes. Minutes that flew by with increasing speed as the enemy drew closer. Philip looked at all they had accomplished. The walls were high [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/04/05/short-story-the-final-fortress-rebecca-laskowitz/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Short Story &#8211; The Snake&#8217;s Slither &#8211; Christopher Brancato</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/short-story-the-snakes-slither-christopher-brancato/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/short-story-the-snakes-slither-christopher-brancato/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 01 Apr 2009 02:18:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Story Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Christopher Brancato]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[general fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2326</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Snake&#8217;s Slither © 2009 &#8211; Christopher Brancato To most people it was just another Monday, but this wasn’t the case for a selected few. The day started like any other for Mike Johnson. Mike would wake up, organize his attire for the day on his bed in a very civil manner, jump in the [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/short-story-the-snakes-slither-christopher-brancato/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Short Story &#8211; The Lady of the Fountain &#8211; Amy Priddy</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/short-story-the-lady-of-the-fountain-amy-priddy/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/short-story-the-lady-of-the-fountain-amy-priddy/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 01 Apr 2009 02:06:21 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Story Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Amy Priddy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[suspense]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2324</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Lady of the Fountain © 2009 &#8211; Amy Priddy George woke up that morning with a splitting headache and found himself in a whirlwind of confusion. He rubbed his eyes and seemed to glare back at the sunlight pouring through the shutters. George hated the sunlight and almost everything else that morning entailed. He [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/short-story-the-lady-of-the-fountain-amy-priddy/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Short Story &#8211; Too Low For Dinner &#8211; Bryan Kaminsky</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/short-story-too-low-for-dinner-bryan-kaminsky/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/short-story-too-low-for-dinner-bryan-kaminsky/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 01 Apr 2009 01:54:44 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Story Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bryan Kaminsky]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[general fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Too Low For Dinner]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2322</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Too Low For Dinner © 2009 – Bryan Kaminsky Dark clouds spanned the early afternoon sky as Edward walked out of the back door of the storage room of a florist. Edward was wearing a black cloak, ripped black jeans, and a black shirt. Edward liked the color black because it absorbed every spectrum of [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/short-story-too-low-for-dinner-bryan-kaminsky/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Poem &#8211; Thoughts &#8211; Jamie Lynn Waters</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/poem-thoughts-jamie-lynn-waters/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/poem-thoughts-jamie-lynn-waters/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 01 Apr 2009 01:13:09 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jamie Lynn Waters]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[thoughts]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2320</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Thoughts © 2009 – Jamie Lynn Waters Sitting here glancing out the window, I see a cow in the field. I watch the lonely cow grazing in the meadow, Chomping away at the freshly grown grass. It is not quite a gloomy day, yet not sunny either. I wonder what that cow’s thinking and what [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/poem-thoughts-jamie-lynn-waters/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Short Story &#8211; The Adventures of LaBertha Johnson &#8211; Akilah C. McDaniel</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/short-story-the-adventures-of-labertha-johnson-akilah-c-mcdaniel/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/31/short-story-the-adventures-of-labertha-johnson-akilah-c-mcdaniel/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 01 Apr 2009 01:00:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Story Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Akilah C. McDaniel]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[general fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2318</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Adventures of LaBertha Johnson © 2009 Akilah C. McDaniel The Beginning Imagine a nice neighborhood with somewhat quiet streets and nice neat little houses with nice, manicured little yards. Now we will zoom in on one house in particular. This house is a small red-brick one with a dark red door. As we look [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Poem &#8211; Watch &#8211; Suzanne Grenoble</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/14/poem-watch-suzanne-grenoble/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/14/poem-watch-suzanne-grenoble/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 14 Mar 2009 19:33:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Suzanne Grenoble]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[watch]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2284</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Watch © 2009 Suzanne Grenoble My girl asks Mommy what’s the time? and I say Time to sled into a snowpile, play Make believe or cookie cop or End the day leisurely bathing with Unimaginable legions of friends What time is it Mommy when the Big Hand touches twelve? Time to stand up tall, to [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Selected Poems &#8211; Timothy Russell</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/14/poem-selected-poems-timothy-russell/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/14/poem-selected-poems-timothy-russell/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 14 Mar 2009 16:33:36 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Timothy Russell]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2282</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Selected Poems © 2009 Timothy Russell They whirled and flurried from the sky. They came to me in the middle of the night, some silently, some clumsily bumping into things. They stuck their tongues in my mouth. Some slunk along the edge of the river bank like feral cats. Some ran ahead of me like [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; The Fifty Things Wrong With This Picture &#8211; Timothy Russell</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/14/poem-the-fifty-things-wrong-with-this-picture-timothy-russell/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/14/poem-the-fifty-things-wrong-with-this-picture-timothy-russell/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 14 Mar 2009 14:33:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Timothy Russell]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2280</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Fifty Things Wrong With This Picture © 2009 Timothy Russell None of this will hasten or delay that dazzling flash astonishingly brief on the horizon. Some of these children have never seen a river or an orchard or a pea pod before today. Poppies and impatiens that make you think “cinnamon” instead of “cinnabar” [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; The Night Was Made for Romance &#8211; Lamar Cole</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/13/poem-the-night-was-made-for-romance-lamar-cole/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/13/poem-the-night-was-made-for-romance-lamar-cole/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 14 Mar 2009 02:39:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Lamar Cole]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[romance]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2278</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Night Was Made For Romance © 2009 Lamar Cole The night was made for romance. In the night our two hearts dance. Under the stars our lips touch. In the garden your embrace means so much. The night was made for love. Our hearts cooing like a white dove. Your eyes sparkling like diamonds [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; autobiographical limerick &#8211; delor e. ferral</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/11/poem-autobiographical-limerick-delor-e-ferral/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/11/poem-autobiographical-limerick-delor-e-ferral/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 12 Mar 2009 02:27:26 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[delor e. ferral]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2265</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[autobiographical limerick © 2009 delor e. ferral The jobs that I&#8217;ve held have been various, My character, sometimes nefarious, Not normally funny, Enough to make money, When nude, women think I&#8217;m hilarious.]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Lemon &#8211; Suzanne Grenoble</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/07/poem-lemon-suzanne-grenoble/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/03/07/poem-lemon-suzanne-grenoble/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 08 Mar 2009 02:24:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[lemon]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Suzanne Grenoble]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2244</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Lemon © 2009 Suzanne Grenoble Sea surge sluicing Salt Citrus Over the tongue Pale seeds Like transparent pebbles, Slipslide longways, Settling in sea algae&#8211; Cool dark underworld green down. Upsideways, Yellow-bright sun pinwheels on high, Over our celadon haven for nests.]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Core &#8211; Suzanne Grenoble</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/28/poem-core-suzanne-grenoble/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/28/poem-core-suzanne-grenoble/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 28 Feb 2009 15:33:33 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[apple]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[core]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Suzanne Grenoble]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2224</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Core © 2009 Suzanne Grenoble Apple Below scarlet skin, White flesh within, Black bugs in snow, Buried cold, slow Apple seeds Sift in and out of sleep. Secrets unravel in the sand of dreams So she must listen, All the way to the center of things, Here is where the silence rings, The hollow shell [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; So Lost &#8211; Michele Lee Moyer</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/27/poem-so-lost-michele-lee-moyer/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/27/poem-so-lost-michele-lee-moyer/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 28 Feb 2009 03:52:20 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Michele Lee Moyer]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[So Lost]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2227</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[So Lost © 2009 Michele Lee Moyer When your away My eyes cry Tiny little tears On my pillow I feel so alone When your not Here I wish you Would come back Home Where you need To be Because I feel So Lost Without you]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Short Story &#8211; In the Blink of an Eye &#8211; Cacy Ann Minter</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/22/short-story-in-the-blink-of-an-eye-cacy-ann-minter/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/22/short-story-in-the-blink-of-an-eye-cacy-ann-minter/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 22 Feb 2009 13:35:56 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Story Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Cacy Ann Minter]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[horror]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2200</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[In the Blink of an Eye © 2009 Cacy Ann Minter Franky couldn’t pinpoint the exact day he first saw the creature. He guessed he’d always had a feeling that something in his existence wasn’t quite right, but he never could put his finger on it. And so he went about his usual boring daily [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Ad Finem &#8211; Jody McMaster</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/09/poem-ad-finem-jody-mcmaster/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/09/poem-ad-finem-jody-mcmaster/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 09 Feb 2009 16:26:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jody McMaster]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[time]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2121</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Ad Finem © 2009 Jody McMaster Today is the same as yesterday. Tomorrow will be the same as today. Misery pushes open the door of desperation. A lull descends upon demeanor, and hopes quickly dissipate. Soon becomes an afterthought. Time passes. Tomorrows come, and yesterdays pass with no change in incident. Time is no friend [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Changing Times &#8211; Courtney Lyn Blystone</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/08/poem-changing-times-courtney-lyn-blystone/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/08/poem-changing-times-courtney-lyn-blystone/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 08 Feb 2009 13:21:20 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Courtney Lyn Blystone]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[seasons]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2112</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Changing Times © 2009 Courtney Lyn Blystone Seasons change from summer to fall Winter coming with an early frost Plants start to shrievel up and turn brown Grass soon turns into hay Trees begin to lose all the leaves Which turned such pretty colors in the fall. People grow and change year to year A [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Interpretations &#8211; Jody McMaster</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/07/poem-interpretations-jody-mcmaster/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/02/07/poem-interpretations-jody-mcmaster/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 07 Feb 2009 18:02:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jody McMaster]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memories]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2108</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Interpretations © 2009 Jody McMaster I cant suppress all these memories. Why would I try? The past, like a songbird perched matter-of-factly on my window sill. Not to be neglected. Passed down, recorded, each one. On blank pages are penned an account of my life. Etched on my brain for eternity. Each one so vivid, [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Short Story &#8211; The Slope of War &#8211; Yael K Miller</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/26/short-story-the-slope-of-war-yael-k-miller/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/26/short-story-the-slope-of-war-yael-k-miller/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 27 Jan 2009 03:30:40 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Story Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[science fiction]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Yael K Miller]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2046</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Slope of War © 2009 Yael K. Miller He was a scout. He could have been an officer but he made his choice years ago. He had no interest in being an officer and his job as a scout kept him as far away from officers as possible and for a majority of the [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; An Ending of a Similar Kind &#8211; E.D. Arrington</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/22/poem-an-ending-of-a-similar-kind-ed-arrington/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/22/poem-an-ending-of-a-similar-kind-ed-arrington/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 23 Jan 2009 02:50:58 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[E.D. Arrington]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=2027</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[An Ending Of A Similar Kind © 2009 E.D. Arrington I looked into your eyes and saw mine; The countenance on your face sent me traveling back in time; The love that poured from your heart reminded me of another; It was the same love I had shared with my mother; On a hot, muggy, [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Short Story &#8211; Honesty Is &#8211; Aaron Eugene Lee</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/10/short-story-honesty-is-aaron-eugene-lee/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/10/short-story-honesty-is-aaron-eugene-lee/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 10 Jan 2009 18:33:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Story Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Aaron Eugene Lee]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[entry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[honesty]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[relationship]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=1983</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Honesty Is © 2009 Aaron Eugene Lee Frosted Flakes, or Wheaties. Cheerios are all gone: only two little o’s remain. The boxes are full of words like “Best” and “Brightest”. “Be all you can be”, that’s our army’s slogan. Tiger Woods ate the Wheaties, I wanna be like him. The tiger says his are “Grrrrrrreat!” [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Short Story &#8211; No School for My Kids &#8211; Nan E. Fagan</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/09/short-story-no-school-for-my-kids-nan-e-fagan/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/09/short-story-no-school-for-my-kids-nan-e-fagan/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 09 Jan 2009 21:33:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Story Contributors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[education]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[homeschool]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Nan E Fagan]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=1981</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[NO SCHOOL FOR MY KIDS © 2009 Nan E. Fagan Twenty minutes later, after finishing breakfast on a warm and sunny Friday morning in mid-April, Kathy DiScala was getting her kids ready for homeschool, when she suddenly heard a knock on her door. “I wonda who that is this early in the mornin!” Kathy asked [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Our Love &#8211; Lamar Cole</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/05/poem-our-love-lamar-cole/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/05/poem-our-love-lamar-cole/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 05 Jan 2009 16:50:34 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=1962</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Our Love © 2009 Lamar Cole As long as there is love, I will cherish you. As long as there is life, I will love you. As long as the stars shine above, I will want you. As long as there are waves in the ocean, I will need you. As long as there is [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Only Love &#8211; Lamar Cole</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/03/poem-only-love-lamar-cole/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2009/01/03/poem-only-love-lamar-cole/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 04 Jan 2009 01:29:41 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=1947</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Only Love © 2008 Lamar Cole Love can sometimes be fresh. Love can sometimes be new. Love can sometimes make you happy. And sometimes make you blue. Love is the light that radiates from your eyes. Love is your image floating in the skies. Love is true. And darling, the only love for me is [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Moving On &#8211; Jamie Lynn Waters</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/12/17/poem-moving-on-jamie-lynn-waters/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/12/17/poem-moving-on-jamie-lynn-waters/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 17 Dec 2008 19:35:53 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry Contributors]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Jamie Lynn Waters]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=1847</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Moving On © 2008 – Jamie Lynn Waters There comes a point in life when we all grow up The loss of innocence, Promises, Heartbreaks, Loss of loved ones, High school, Graduation, It’s all a part of life, Some may experience more than others but it’s what makes you, you Don’t lose your morals and [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Bitter Awareness &#8211; Jamie Lynn Waters</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/12/17/poem-bitter-awareness-jamie-lynn-waters/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/12/17/poem-bitter-awareness-jamie-lynn-waters/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 17 Dec 2008 19:34:12 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=1845</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Bitter Awareness © 2008 – Jamie Lynn Waters What is a dream? The word dream is scrumptious, Like the cotton candy held in the palm of your hand, Realistic and loud, Like the sticky situation if held to long, Self knowledge weighing on you like a twenty-eight pound brick dropped from the sky, Landing in [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Perfect Man &#8211; Damien Livingston</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/12/04/poem-perfect-man-damien-livingston/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/12/04/poem-perfect-man-damien-livingston/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 05 Dec 2008 04:07:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=1504</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Perfect Man © 2008 – Damien Livingston Just foolish, thinking I can be a perfect man Look at my face masked wit incorrect thoughts Or this body of mine… that has been bathed in self ignorance Listen to the words I speak from the depth of my mouth that are not genuine but are instead [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Cole Ridge Poem &#8211; By Joy Sheppard</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/11/01/poem-cole-ridge-poem-by-joy-sheppard/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/11/01/poem-cole-ridge-poem-by-joy-sheppard/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 01 Nov 2008 14:23:06 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=1082</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Cole Ridge Poem © 2008 – Joy Sheppard Blythe gale, Peasants to hail, Why canst thou fling free? Soar over the churning sea in wild ecstasy? Must you always salt my soars? Bitter struggle tasted by scores Inflicted by you, the curses rebound Upon the shipwrecked Sound Enslaving master and taskman alike Oh, wild spirit, [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Life is Rough &#8211; By Kaylee Lynn Gates</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/05/28/poem-life-is-rough-by-kaylee-lynn-gates/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/05/28/poem-life-is-rough-by-kaylee-lynn-gates/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 28 May 2008 23:32:51 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=232</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Life is Rough © 2008 – Kaylee Lynn Gates Life is rough It has its roads Some are hard That&#8217;s a fact that I will always know You see kids getting beaten It is not a lie For every night that I stayed up praying and wishing to die Its sad Yes I know that [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; Ship of Gold &#8211; By Jill Eisnaugle</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/05/27/poem-ship-of-gold-by-jill-eisnaugle/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/05/27/poem-ship-of-gold-by-jill-eisnaugle/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 27 May 2008 22:52:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=231</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[WINNER &#8211; FALL 2008 POETRY CONTEST Ship of Gold © 2008 – Jill Eisnaugle My heart is the captain for a ship of gold Our mission is something special to behold Together, my boat and I span the high seas We ride through the turmoil with the greatest ease Clear skies form to greet us [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Poem &#8211; For What I Know &#8211; By Frank Kilbourn</title>
		<link>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/05/23/poem-for-what-i-know-by-frank-kilbourn/</link>
		<comments>http://www.storyinstitute.com/2008/05/23/poem-for-what-i-know-by-frank-kilbourn/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 24 May 2008 01:36:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Story Institute</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.storyinstitute.com/?p=223</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[FOR WHAT I KNOW by Frank Kilbourn Copyright 2008 For what I know and what I&#8217;ll be I will remember I was he Who knew of what was in the sea, For know I this and know I well That I was on the wall, then fell. And had you seen me stumble on When [...]]]></description>
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