Category: Poetry

The tiny cracks too small for the eye to see, too insignificant for anyone to care. When the instrument arrives, only a few will take notice of the fault line. No one believes for long it will happen, and when it opens, they start to blame. The tiny fragile ones seem to notice, they hear…

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That sweet butter, melted that drips from the corn, onto the chin, and onto the napkin: the non-descript white one placed carefully in your lap. There’s no way it will hold ten or more drops. seeping through it. They claim it should suffice and after you are done eating the kernels like a typewriter moves,…

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While I was rewriting and took a little break, I had this come to me. It’s sort of a culmination of things from my past. People I once knew and things I had heard. This is what resulted. No more and no less. Okay, back to rewriting. When I was young, foolish, and stupid, I…

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I suppose this is for all the car enthusiasts out there. While I don’t take credit for this photo, I am using it because one of my family members took it. This old car, old as dirt car is probably more fitting, belongs to my dad. Now that my parents are in their new house,…

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You are not the bitch you thought you were. You don’t cater to anyone anymore, At least not as much and not as openly. You don’t care if people believe you are less than. It doesn’t bother you. For what’s the point When you do what you want to do, And you do it without…

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I reworked an old poem and practically became a new poem. I’d like to try to write longer poems in the future but for now they are short. I’m still working on my novel rewrite despite me wanting to go head first into any one of my other novel ideas. I had a dream last…

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It is not you I have failed But the minutes that have prevailed; Cut into the deep wounds, red, Scars opening again, shall soon go to bed. It is nighttime wrapped inside, As a cocoon does fully provide; My heart cannot take much more, Lean left and stare wide at the open door. That is…

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Dreaming of a money miracle with ten million dollars in the bag. Running toward the finish line and the yellow line in sight. Growing thick barbed wire on the sides as a full blown nightmare. Dropping the bag, the only option and such a shameful sight. Stuffing a few packs down pants and shirt, losing…

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(Before you read my newest poem as it came to me as I was revising my old ones, does anyone know how to select everything on a post in order to make the words black not gray? I’m having one hell of a time with this and it’s highly annoying when I write in Word.…

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Neither here, nor there, in the silence I hear, skipping stones on a lake. Ripples form, then disappear, hazy fog rolls in, covering the hills. I am persuaded, the echoes far away, longing to be heard again.

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From the mouths of despair and the graves of the blind, the great ones who never were all that good to begin with, this is where we land when our minds no longer want to operate, when we feel we don’t exist anymore to anyone, not even ourselves. From the depths of everyone waiting, comes…

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