Moore Forgiven

A young man  entered a gilded elevator, and pushed the button for the top floor. In his hand, he held a small package. To be honest, he was surprised he had made it so far. “What could have induced Robert … Continue reading


Friends in High Places

On a cool December morning, Dustin Tanglewood awoke to find bright whiteness outside his window. Overnight, his quiet suburban neighborhood had transformed into a snowy paradise. As he took a closer look, there was only one thing out of place, … Continue reading


The Eagle Float and Mr. Austin

"Eagle Float" by Alex Schattner

The week before Thanksgiving…Mr. Austin, a high school art teacher, was told that his funding was being cut in half due to budget cuts. The athletics department wasn’t being cut, just the arts. “Why?” Mr. Austin asked. “Because sports build … Continue reading


Haiku: Giving Thanks (Black Friday?)

On the day of thanks,
Why are we told to want more?
Can’t Black Friday Wait?

Don’t spend Thanksgiving
In a gray, cold, parking lot.
Discounts won’t cut it.

– Alex Schattner (11/19/12)


Stay Tuned: Thanksgiving Week!

All this week, I will be featuring a cornucopia of Thanksgiving stories, poems, and illustrations for you to gobble up. Have any prompts/suggestions? I would love to hear them. Happy Turkey Day!



Saturday Hiaku: Time

“Knight Rider” by Coda2

If you could choose a
Time in which to live,
Which age would it be?

Maybe ancient Rome
With g’ds, gladiators, and
The myths of greatness.

How ’bout the middle ages
Filled with princesses and knights.
Castles and glory!

Or is the jazz age,
With its glam gals, and gangster,
more preferable?

Before you answer
Think of power, plumbing,
And the great depression.

If  you want to be
Cold, smelly, and destitute,
Then the past is yours.

I’ll stay here.

– Alex Schattner (11/18/12)


Inspiration: The Works of Maxfield Parrish

“Maxfield Parrish (1870 – 1966) was an American painter and illustrator. Born Frederick Maxfield Parrish in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, he began drawing for his own amusement early in his life. He went on to pursue a career that was to last for many decades and effectively shape the Golden Age of Illustration, and the future of American visual art in general. Launched by a commission to illustrate Kenneth Grahame’s The Walls Were as of Jasper in 1897, his repertoire was to include many prestigious projects such as Eugene Field’s Poems of Childhood (1904) and the traditional Arabian Nights (1909).” –


Loving Detroit

Bertram Mead drew his first building at the age of five. To be honest, the “building” was little more than a few scribbled lines in a silver-blue crayon, but his parents were impressed by his imagination. They encouraged Bertram to … Continue reading


President Cerulean

On a warm summer’s night, the pregnant wife of a U.S. Senator went about preparing dinner for her husband. She was carving a chicken cutlet when the knife slipped and cut the surface of her pinky. Two drops of crimson … Continue reading


Sandy, The Storm

*I’m sorry I took so long between posts. I’ve been without power for a week. This poem might give you a glimpse into how I feel about this.

“Euphoria” by H. Kopp Delaney

At night she attacks
Spilling water over the city’s shore
The water rises over cars, paths,
And everything more.

Over the Atlantic—near the equator
She was born like anyone else.
And bestowed the name Sandy–
With a choice of smooth or coarse.

She chose coarse.
And I can only imagine “Why?”
Merely to shout her name
Upon the infinite sky?

Or…does she express pain
With a perturbed mother’s call?
Has she lost El Nino?
Somewhere in the squall.

Why then does she terrify the kid down the hall,
Whose voice echoes powerless
Like the ambient light of “exit”
That paints us red and garish?

Sandy keeps us in the dark…

Outside my window
The clouds define
A tower not often ominous,
But now castle-like in profile line.

The structure stands solid
Against the lower climbs
And swaying trees–
Like a relic of our times.

If Sandy destroys us,
The tower will be the marker of our tomb.
If she takes that down,
There’s unending doom.

If Sandy takes me in her cold embrace
And out where debris is swarming,
I’ll blame those who came before me
Who didn’t believe in global warming.

And next year she’ll be back–
New name, worse temper.
The city better be prepared
For another natural disaster.

– Alex Schattner (11/1/12)

Tags: alex schattner, america, american folktales, art, storm, belief, confidence, folktale, inspiration, lesson, moral, poem, poetry, value, wisdom, hurricane sandy, sandy, frankenstorm