Sunday Poetry: The Old Man of the Cape - Edward Lear & Ken Lamug

There was an Old Man of the Cape,

Who possessed a large Barbary Ape;

Till the Ape one dark night, set the house on a light,

Which burned that Old Man of the Cape.

The Old Man of the Cape

Written by Edward Lear

Illustrated by Ken Lamug

Would you like to see your limerick or poem up on Sunday Poetry? Email it to us at junipertreelit@gmail.com and put "Sunday Poetry" in the subject line.

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Don't forget to check out our August Issue

August Issue

Hello everyone! It's been a flurry of activity getting everyone's pieces clothed, brushed, fed and shoved into  our August issue but we did it. Thank you to all the lovely people who put all their sweat and mostly blood into this issue. Thank you again to our Murder of Editors for taking their time to dissect each word. Thanks Tex for restraining of scaring off any contributors with your unappetizing diet.

My pleasure, darling.

Drum roll please!

Drrrrrrrummm roooollllllllllll

The August issue!

Open publication - Free publishing - More dark

UPDATE: To download a PDF of the issue, visit our bookshelf at http://issuu.com/underneaththejunipertree. Open the publication and underneath the issue is an option to download or print the issue. 

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Sunday Poetry: The Cannibal and His Dog - Dawn Pisturino

The Cannibal and His Dog

Written by Dawn Pisturino 

Would you like to see your limerick or poem up on Sunday Poetry? Email it to us at junipertreelit@gmail.com and put "Sunday Poetry" in the subject line.

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Don't forget to check out our July issue

August issue comes out tomorrow!

Blast from the Past: Rats Edition - ONE WEEK LEFT!

You heard right, headless pumpkins, you have only one week to enter your submission for the Blast from the Past: Rats Edition challenge. Haste, friends, haste!

In under 500 words, write us a piece inspired by this photo. Your piece can be poetry or a short story as long as it is under 500 words. If you can think of other creative ways to be inspired by this photo, go ahead and surprise us! The winner (or winners) of the challenge will be featured in the September issue!

Deadline for submission: Saturday, August 6. The winners will be announced Monday, August 8.

With your submission please put in the subject line "Blast from the Past - Rats Edition". 

For the name of your document please put your story/artwork name, underscore and your name. Ex: ToesForEating_MarjorieMerle.doc

You can submit your work as a Word document or stick it directly in the email to junipertreelit@gmail.com and please forgive us in advance if we don't write back to you immediately. Tex is fairly anal about reading and viewing everything we get. With your submission please tell us a little bit about yourself and please send us your website if you have one. If you don't have one, get one. They are free, you know.

For the rest of the guidelines and what should not be submitted, go to our Submissions & Guidelines page.

We look forward to your creative mind-doodles!

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Don't forget to check out our July issue

August Issue Sneak Peek: The Unforgiving Tree

Don't miss our tragic take on Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree. It will sadden you, yes, but it will also throw you from your chair and pull a cry of victory from your mouth. Join us on August 1st to read this tantalizing tale of turmoil and triumph!

The tree was so angry!

The tree was distraught!

The little boy ought to be caught!

And then tied into a granny knot.

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Don't forget to check out our July issue

Zombiemart - JL Martin

Zombiemart

Written by JL Martin 

Would you like to see your limerick, poem or short story up on Underneath The Juniper Tree? Email it to us at junipertreelit@gmail.com and put "General Submission" in the subject line. You can also check out our Submissions & Guidelines page for more information.

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Don't forget to check out our July issue

The Choose Your Own Mystery Winner!

It was a fine, fine challenge this week with a great turnout. Tex and I had to scramble our brains to choose only one person whose piece rose above the rest.

Creme de la creme! Blood de la blood!

So the winner of the Choose Your Own Mystery challenge and the next person heading into fame and victory in the August issue is....

Samantha Kymmelle-Harvey!!!! With her piece Because of Brussels Sprouts. Here is a snippet from her extraordinary piece:

“Greedy girl!” said a little wisp of white. It pulled her to the ground, raining scarlet droplets on her face. “You can’t make me share! I’ll eat you next if you try!”


You'll have to come back August 1st to catch the rest.


Thank you all for sending in your creative babies and good luck with the Blast from the Past - Rats Edition. We await your genius at our inbox.

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Don't forget to check out our July issue

Sunday Poetry: Young Lady of Claire - Edward Lear & Ken Lamug

There was a Young Lady of Claire,

Who was madly pursued by a bear;

When she found she was tired, she abruptly expired,

Oh Young Lady your life is unfair.

Young Lady of Claire

Written by Edward Lear

Illustrated by Ken Lamug

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Don't forget to check out our July issue

New Challenge - Blast from the Past: Rats Edition

Good Saturday, poppets! Today is your deadline for the Choose You Own Mystery challenge. You have until midnight tonight (Pacific time) to get your entries in. Entries that are late will be tossed in the incinerator and made into ornaments.

Now on to bigger and more different similar things!

A shortage of toes!

Quite, poppets, Tex has been rationing his toe snacks. Please donate more toes. 

Yes, the plumpish ones are best.

Now – our New Challenge!

Blast from the Past: Rats Edition

In under 500 words, write us a piece inspired by this photo. Your piece can be poetry or a short story as long as it is under 500 words. If you can think of other creative ways to be inspired by this photo, go ahead and surprise us! The winner (or winners) of the challenge will be featured in the September issue!

Deadline for submissions has changed. We are now giving you TWO WEEKS to submit your piece so they better be good!

Deadline for submission: Saturday, August 6. The winners will be announced Monday, August 8.

With your submission please put in the subject line "Blast from the Past - Rats Edition". 

For the name of your document please put your story/artwork name, underscore and your name. Ex: ToesForEating_MarjorieMerle.doc

You can submit your work as a Word document or stick it directly in the email to junipertreelit@gmail.com and please forgive us in advance if we don't write back to you immediately. Tex is fairly anal about reading and viewing everything we get. With your submission please tell us a little bit about yourself and please send us your website if you have one. If you don't have one, get one. They are free, you know.

For the rest of the guidelines and what should not be submitted, go to our Submissions & Guidelines page.

We look forward to your creative mind-doodles!

And remember that your Time Travel submission deadline is in TWO DAYS!!!!! The winner will be featured in our August issue so let's hear your stories.

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Don't forget to check out our July issue

The Mailbox Monster - Ken Lamug

Little Annalise did not like to go get the daily mail. She begged her brothers to go for her. She saved her allowance to pay the neighbor to go. She pretended to go and came back saying Oh, there wasn't any mail today, Papa.

Truth be told, Annalise knew something no one else knew: the mailbox was alive.

Don't be ridiculous, her father laughed, and don't come back until you get the mail! and slammed the door at her heels. Poor Annalise didn't know what to do.

"If I get the mail," she mumbled to herself through bitten nails, "I will surely be eaten!" She looked back at the house only to see her brother's sneering at her from the window. Annalise's eyebrows dove into a frown, "I will go. I will show those brothers of mine how brave I can be."

She walked down the street and around the corner.

"I will go. I am brave."

 She climbed through the forest and down a long, steep hill.

"I will go. I am brave."

She wound her way up the next hill and found herself face to face with the mailbox.

"I am brave. I am brave. I am brave."

The mailbox stood tall and regal on top of the hill, gleaming in the afternoon sun. From this distance, it looked like an ordinary mailbox. Annalise crept closer. The crisp, metal edges of the mailbox flashed a glint of sunshine in her eyes, blinding her momentarily.

When the red spots faded from her eyelids she noticed the mailbox had changed.

"I am brave," she said again with less enthusiasm.

"I am..."

But as she spoke this time, the sharp corners of the mailbox pulled back to reveal row after row of gruesome teeth sharp and jagged as broken glass. Two black, evil eyes snapped open.

"...br-br-br..."

Now, glowering over her, so close to her face she could see bits of envelopes stuck in its teeth, was the Mailbox Monster. She knew it was real, not just a figment of her imagination! But the victory of being right was short lived as the Mailbox Monster's rancid breath was breathing down into her face; strings of drool dangled from its mouth.

Quick as a whistle Annalise grabbed what mail she could see in its jaws and darted away down the winding hill. She snuck a look over her shoulder to see if the Mailbox Monster was behind her. Close on her heels was the metalic horror that haunted her. Harder and harder she pushed her legs nearly tripping over her own feet.

She reached the bottom of the hill and started up the second hill. Her legs burned! She could hear the snarling growl of the Mailbox Monster chasing her. Faster! she chanted to herself. Faster!

She thought her lungs were going to explode when she finally made it to the top of the hill. The forest wavered in front of her eyes as ink blots formed in her sight. She pushed on.

Through the forest she dodged around trees hoping to lose the Mailbox Monster. She looked over her shoulder again and it was a little further away. A seed of hope blossomed. Twigs scratched at Annalise's legs and stung her face but she pushed on.

She was back on the sidewalk and heard the Mailbox Monster close behind her again. Just a little further, she thought. It was so hard to hold the mail while running for her life. A few envelopes slithered from her fingers and fluttered away behind her. The Mailbox Monster stopped to eat them up. Yes! she cheered and let go of another envelope to distract the monster.

Annalise flew around the corner and saw her house in sight. The Mailbox Monster was gaining on her and she only had one envelope left. She couldn't come home without any mail. She had to keep this one. She could feel the hot breath of the monster on her neck. She thought her legs would give out any minute. If only she could just make it up the steps to the house. But the door! The Mailbox Monster would surely eat her as she tried to open the door!

Good fortune shined on Annalise that day. As she zoomed up the front steps, one of her brothers opened the door. Annalise dove into her brother, grabbing the knob behind her and pulling the door shut. She stood up panting but victorious.

Her Papa walked in and looked at Annalise with a frown. Between heaving breaths she held up the envelope and said, "Papa! I....I got...the mail!"

Still frowning, his eyes wandered to the window where surely he must see the Mailbox Monster.

"Yes, but you forgot the newspaper."

The Mailbox Monster
Written by Martin Shorn
Illustrated by Ken Lamug

You can see more of this duo in the upcoming August issue where they take on The Unforgiving Tree. Don't miss it!

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Don't forget to check out our July issue

Choose Your Own Mystery - One Week To Go!

Just a friendly reminder for all you writerly artisticals out there:

ONE WEEK LEFT for the Choose Your Own Mystery Challenge!!!!

I get to munch one toe for every day that your submission is late.

That's right. Deadline is Saturday, July 23. Don't be late! Winners will be announced on Monday, July 25.

Good luck all you deviously daring drumlets.

And come back later today to read Dawn Pisturino's lively limerick The Man From Brazil. You might want to be sitting when you read it.



Don't forget to check out our July issue.

The Man in Galloway Bay - Dawn Pisturino

A man lost in Galloway Bay,

Cried out in a very loud bray,

"Please come rescue me, 

hungry sharks can't agree,

Am I breakfast or dinner entree?"

The Man in Galloway Bay

Written by Dawn Pisturino 

Don't forget to check out our July issue.

The Crooked Man: Animated Short - Dries Bastiaensen

Our lovely friend and contributor Ken Lamug revealed this gem to us the other day and we wanted to share it with you. It was all I could do to get it out of Tex's greedy little grabby hands.

My eyes saw it first. I was only going to add it to my...selection of...delectables.

We hope you enjoy this animated short before Tex eats it all up.






The Crooked Man
Animation by Dries Bastiaensen


Don't forget to check out our July issue.

Beware Sleeping Kittens - Cheryl Coville

Innocent kittens

Asleep in their cots

Helpless and harmless

How peaceful their thoughts.

But from the depths of

Their slumber, they dream

Murderous scenes filled

With ear-piercing screams.

Visions of slaughter

Of blood and of gore

Torment and terror.

Ferocious! They roar!

They hunger for prey

They catch on the sly.

Crunchy bird dinners

Snatched down from the sky.

They pounce on goldfish

And throw up the bones.

Then tease the dog who’s

Tied up at his home.

Animal ambush.

Mousey mass murder.

Kings of the jungle

Stalk the intruder.

They snarl and they slash.

They flash their fierce fangs.

Merciless mayhem

Is all that remains.

Such are the dreams of

The average kitten.

Better not wake him

Lest you get bitten.

Beware Sleeping Kittens

Written and illustrated by Cheryl Coville 

To see more of this calibre or macabre, check out our July Issue.
Would you like to see your limerick or poem up on Sunday Poetry? Email it to us at junipertreelit@gmail.com and put "Sunday Poetry" in the subject line.

The Wait - Wyatt Willis & Evan Heasman

Adèle sat in the highest bough of the red eucalyptus tree with her tiny, white hands folded in her lap. Below sat the Wolf running its tongue along its pearly, sharp teeth that glinted in the moonlight every time Adèle looked down. The Wolf’s lips curled back into a wicked grin.

I can wait, child. For years I can wait. You will grow weary and I will be here.

Adèle found herself slouching from exhaustion and pulled her back up straight to help keep alert. How long had it been, now? Three hours? Three days? Time cannot not be measured when the moon never moves and the sun never returns. She rubbed her toes that were beginning to tingle from the lack of blood.

She lay back into the rustling leaves of the tree. They gave off a red glow on her skin. Like blood, she thought. She looked up into the black sky that seemed so near for all its darkness. She had to put a hand in front of her face to remind her that her eyes were still open.

“I cannot fall asleep,” she thought, “or I will fall through these thin branches and be eaten, surely.” But her lids were heavy like stones and with each blink her body said, yes, yes it is nice to sleep, isn’t it?

Whether it was a sound or a movement that woke her, Adèle sat up with a start. She was already slipping through the arms of the tree.

Do not worry, precious gem, the Wolf hissed below, I am still here when you fall.

Not ‘if’ but ‘when’. Adèle shivered at the sweetness of the Wolf’s call. She would not close her eyes again.

She looked out over the land that was dotted with murky figures; forests spread out in clumps. She could only imagine what sort of horrors lived in those trees when something so terrible as the Wolf lived out in the open. She could barely distinguish the land from the sky; the varying black shapes seeped into each other. Off in the distance, little dots of light winked. She couldn’t tell if they were a village or the stars.

Adèle looked up into the velvety sky trying to get the image of the Wolf out of her mind but all she could see was its razorback fur and its haunting red eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut but could not get rid of the image. She rolled over and rested her head against the leaves.

“I’ll only lay here a moment and then,” her mouth stretched into a yawn, “I’ll figure out what to do.”

I will be here, child.

It wasn’t long after Adèle drifted off that she realized there were two red eyes looking directly at her. And then four eyes. And then hundreds of red eyes glowed around her. Every way she turned there were red eyes bearing down into hers.

“No!” She screamed. “No! NO NO NO-NO-NO!”

But it was too late.

Adèle’s tiny body slipped through the sparse twigs of the red eucalyptus tree and fell down, down, down into darkness and pearly, sharp teeth.

The Wait

Written by Wyatt Willis

Illustrated by Evan Heasman