You Wouldn’t Live In A Cardboard Box, Would You?

Posted July 26, 2016 by Ari Augustine in For Writers / 0 Comments

Imagine sitting down with your favorite book. There you are, sitting in a comfy chair, peeling the pages apart hungrily. You’re into it : the plot, the dramatic climax, and even maddening suspense clinging to each line. No doubt, the story you are reading is a great one. Its opening line sucked you in and now you cannot escape – not that you want to.You’re  gripping to every word, every line. But the characters fall short. The male romantic lead turns out to be shallow and two-dimensional. Or maybe it’s the female protagonist who doesn’t quite live up to the […]

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21st Street

21st Street

Posted July 20, 2016 by Ari Augustine in Blog / 0 Comments

  She’s sure he didn’t mean to call her boring He was probably joking, even. Yet, as he turned away from her And announced it Loudly to the small audience of their friends, She felt a little piece of herself  chip, A small sensation she has come to recognize As her feelings being hurt. She sat there, hands clasped in her lap, And waiting. And waiting. She hopes he will say something to her Take notice, care. Yet, all she want is to leave; she wants to cry. She wants to cry.

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‘Ornery’ in the Pittsburgh Post Gazette

Posted July 2, 2016 by Ari Augustine in Blog / 0 Comments

For those of you who have not seen it, my poem ‘Ornery’ was published in the Pittsburgh Post Gazette June 18th, 2016.  I am still incredibly excited about it and I want to share it here, among all my other hopes and dreams. You can read it by following the link below: http://www.post-gazette.com/opinion/2016/06/18/Ornery/stories/201606180019   Bon Appétit   xoxo

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Gasoline

Posted June 23, 2016 by Ari Augustine in Blog / 0 Comments

I don’t know why I remember the smell of gasoline. Sitting on the garage floor in nothing but my short corduroys, grease smeared on my knees, I watch Papa curse over the truck engine. Gasoline, sawdust, and grease was all over the garage, painting it with the leftovers of hard work and, often, failed attempts. Carved wooden projects were stacked against the shells of cars, which were bursting with old, odd bits from the house. Shelves in the corner held an assortment of paint and were lined with Folgers Coffee cans overflowing with nuts, bolts, and nails. I sat, leaning […]

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