
Mind Sprocket gives voice to simple and honest perspectives. We publish thoughts and experiences on our world. We tell stories.
This narrative articulates the incredulous sentiments I experienced last spring when I came upon the strange, sad trail of a chicken truck that had unfortunately sprung a fatal leak.
Everyone knows the secrets I’ve been keeping, or else nothing is a secret, or else nothing is real.
I know what heaven looks like in all four seasons. I know what it looks like in the summer. I know what heaven looks like in the fall. This is my heaven.
A tortured soul’s free-flowing drift through a drunken night in London.
She doesn’t smile much, that woman. Eyes averted, she is the lone bird left to perch on an iron-wrought fence on a foggy, winter morning.
I don’t want to corrupt another
clean white sheet with a poem.
For Beauty ought with beauty live,
And Beauty is God’s home.
And to the pure the purest give
The purest place to roam.
There is nothing new under the sun, except people, stories, love, and life.
On her return to writing after a lengthy absence, Bethany shares some of the wrongheadedness that can dissolve one’s creative work ethic.
Living halfway across the world in the cosmopolitan center of the Middle East, this new author loves being “Somewhere Else” completely.
There is nothing new under the sun, except people, stories, love, and life.