My Writing
My collection of poetry, prose, and short stories
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Creeping into the backyard from over the garden wall. Her big orange belly is as round as her tip-toeing paws. Orange swirls like cinnamon on her pumpkin rolls. Asking for pets as she stops by on her daily stroll.
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The well ran dry. Where life once overflowed, only a clanging echo remained. Still, the hopeful still came with their pails. They patiently lowered their empty vessels, into the dark below. For they believed that which is empty can be refilled again.
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He’s nothing like you Excerpt for the way he stands. The same height and casual stance- Wrapped in black jeans. He’s nothing like you Except for the way he talks. A shouted voice full of mirth When excited in conversation. He’s nothing like you Except for that face he makes. Dark eyebrows raised, wide mouth…
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*A poem about feeling overwhelmed by life. May be triggering for some readers* I’m drowning in a self-created sea. Made of tasks, duties, and responsibilities. I asked for this. I thought I wanted more, but I’m in over my head. The water’s getting deeper, and I’m too tired to tread. I’m slowly slipping under- anyone…
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I can never go back to Tooele or I might pass that Greek Cafe and remember the afternoon we ate lemon-rice soup and baklava after shopping in the one antique shop in town. I can never go back to Tooele. Or I might drive up that canyon road and remember when we escaped to the…
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Prompt: Write about someone’s eyes without saying the color. You would have thought they’d be cold. Cold, flat, and hard- like a sheet of ice on the lake in January. But, those eyes weren’t cold at all. They were bright. Bright, expressive, and lively- like light dancing off the waves in June. People are full…
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Inspired by the Pintrist prompt: “Write what he said about the coffee” “It’s cold.” He said it blandly, an observation rather than a complaint. It was a short sentence. A mere two words about a cup of coffee after a stony 16 hours of silence. “Should I warm it for you?” I asked, careful to…
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The sun beat down on your face as you lay in the grass next to me. Your right arm rested over your eyes, while your left hand rested on my knee. Next to your head a full dandelion temptingly nodded it’s cotton head. I reached across your sleeping form, careful not to disturb your slumber,…
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In the dead of night, silence dances to the racing of my heart. I sit in my bed illuminated by my lamp’s orange glow. Hours slide past as time stands still- I’m as calm and raging as flickering flame. And I gulp down herbal tea as if it’s the remedy to the manic anxiety in…
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I still think of you when I hear that song. But today, instead of the familiar stab of pain, I smiled, then laughed, then sang along.
Bringing Mae Flowers 