Volume 18 Issue 19 – Section 1

Fish Whispers

At home just a half-hour agoan old man, gait wide and arthritic,scuttled precariouslyacross a Baghdad street.The newscaster frowned,as if he knew somethingthe old man and I did not. Here,feet planted solidly in park grass,I watch a woman wearing a blue shirtand camouflage hat loopher bamboo pole toward the skythen water. She strokes the polelike a […]

Honoring Harold (Hal) Grutzmacher

Writing about the Chicago Cubs and studying the Romantic poets: Harold (Hal) Grutzmacher’s literary passions. The diverse personality of the man, the reader, the writer, the poet, the columnist, the critic, the editor, the teacher, and the bookstore owner this issue honors is reflected in the varied creative works throughout the following pages.

At the Station

Waiting on the platforma trembly excitement growswithin us until someone callsHere she comes!and we feel the vibrationsof weight and powershaking the platformunder our feetand far down the linea plaintive, melancholyvoice wails woooawoooawoooolouder and loudercloser and closer asthe monstrous black enginebores down upon usits giant wheelsslowing slowingslowingto a shudderingstopas the metal partsscream and shriekand the passenger […]

Old Quilts

Something there is about old quiltscarrying with them the smell of the pastwooden chests, deep drawers, dark closetsand the slow slide of timelike the resigned setting of the sunor the cautious moving of moon behind cloudfabrics fading and threadbare, bat lumpy,patient stitches come undone: We sleep under soft albumscozy with scrapbooks and hanky drawersfilled with […]

A Nice Place to Visit

She is in aweof city people, admires the easewith which they breeze throughtraffic life while caution lightsturn red Red RED for herlike the dreaded burn of refluxthat makes her whisper a mantrathat no one is strangling her,no one is strangling,no one is. She begs herselfto breathe, Breathe, BREATHEbecause she believesshe is ready to slidein and […]

2012 Prizes

The Peninsula Pulse would like to thank the generous businesses and individuals that donated prizes to this year's Hal Grutzmacher’s Writers’ Exposé and Photography Jubilee.

Still Life with Hands

In the photograph, the child sleepsenfolded in grandmotherly arms.Weathered hands and fledgling fingersreposed from patty cakes and pageshe is learning to turn. Hands, eagerto clap and drum, navigate a spoon. Hands she will teachto pluck dandelionssteer shovels, craft castles.At rest, for the momentfrom her well-worn pastrefueling for his unlined futurestill, in their peaceful present. Bio: […]

When We Played Pickup

Butch captained the team‘cause he could spit throughhis teeth, a handy prerequisitefor guys headed to the major leagues. The smallest kid on our team, Butchcould lay down bunts right and left,scoop spirited grounders at short,shag high-fly balls anywhere on the field. Once, Butch tried to teach me to bunt.Slow to finesse those hitting skills,I blackened […]

The Process

The Hal Grutzmacher’s Writers’ Exposé and Photography Jubilee celebrates the creative process – each photograph, each poem, and each story represents time, patience, and skill from a budding or seasoned artist.

2012 Judges

Meet the esteemed judges of the 2012 Hal Grutzmacher's Writers' Expose and Photography Jubilee.

Skiffing Stones in Ireland

The boy wades into the shallows, pants rolled to his knees,the back of his body sculpted in light and shade. In contrapposto, he calls across time, and I seethe Greek Discus Thrower, that ease and expertise. With shoulders slanted to the universe, he twistson his own axis, movement barely perceptible. Only the voice of the […]

Embracing the Creative Spirit

I imagine dread and anxiety plagued every writer, poet, and photographer as they submitted their respective pieces – stories revealing vulnerability, poems presenting deep fears, and photographs showcasing their interpretation of beauty.

Reading Abigail

Can I read Abby? he asked,a grin spreading across his broad-chinned face. Yeah, I said, eager for volunteers,You can read Abby’s lines. I was a long-term suband we were reading The Crucible aloudtaking parts. He was a high school football player,wide shoulders but flaxen hair a cherub might envy. Can I use my deep voice? […]

The White Bicycle

When everything is falling apartmy friend, when you’re stuckin the horse latitudes,mired in a darknight of the soul,when you’re no longer sleeksexy and smooth, find a white bicycle–climb on thatfat-tired slow beast,pedal and huff andlaugh like you once did,whistle sing shoutand cuss use wordsyour mama told you never to, push that bike up a mountainand […]

My Wife Looks at Art

I find her by a watercolordazzled by the brightness of koithe way a child is drawn to fire. But this is nothing new. Once she stood on my shouldersto climb onto the porch roofand reached toward the night skyin a way Rousseau might have poseda maiden under an endlessribbon of rainbows. When I joined her, […]

A Bend in the Truth

“Y’see, most men, they’ll tell a story straight through, it won’t be complicated, but it won’t be interesting either.” ~ Edward Bloom from Big Fish Much of my free time when I was young was spent wandering the pine forest that bordered my hometown. The stand of white pines that fringed the St. Louis River […]

Personal Archeology

The deep closet under the stairs will be our tornado shelter, we both agree, after watching the heaps and shambles of debris from the most recent tornado on television news. And so I start pulling out boxes to make a space for a couple chairs, a radio, flashlight, bottled water, Scotch. Maybe some snacks? Chocolate, […]

The Raspberry Patch

One summer night, a few weeks past my ninth birthday, my mom announced at supper that I would be picking raspberries for my grandparents the next day. It would be my first job. I was excited about the announcement (I have always liked to be singled out) but was also a little worried: would all […]

The Mickey Play

One of the biggest challenges for adults is coaching kids’ baseball. Keeping fifteen or so high-octane kids focused and out of trouble for two hours without losing one’s sanity is no easy feat. The team I coached was made up of middle-school boys, not fully distracted by girls, but beginning to form opinions on the […]

A Summer Place

To his amazement, the lawnmower started, not on the first pull, but eventually, after many persistent tugs. After becoming warm from the exertion he had removed his jacket and his muttered expletives had gradually gotten louder; he tried not to curse any more, one of the many vices he had attempted to shed, like a […]

A Little Past Freddy Point

I am the only one who’s been on a wolf hunt before so they put me up front. It’s one thing to shoot a wolf that’s gnawing on a sheep in your backyard; it’s another to go find him in his den. The wolves are disappearing and they say it’s a national problem but for […]