I walk down empty streets under a gray sky. A crow caws overheard- answered by it's murder's calls. The brisk east wind blasts across the lake racing toward the mountains. It pushes back my black hood, and tangles my long hair. My nose and ears redden with the cold. New buds grow on the bare … Continue reading Autumn or Spring?
Tag: Poetry
Writing Poems at 3am
I don't consider myself a poet. I used to write a lot of sub-par poetry in high school and in the early years of college, but I grew out of the habit. It wasn't a loss, more of transition. The style of writing most natural to me is prose, so I focused more on that … Continue reading Writing Poems at 3am
Mountains
*A very rough-draft of a poem* Mountains: The mountains felt like walls when I arrived in Utah ten years ago. Closing me into the small valley the stony faces confined me to a foreign land. The gray fortresses, so different from the green fields I knew, were my isolated tower. Here, hidden in the valley … Continue reading Mountains
Silent Movie Morning
I walked outside and everything was grey scale. Devoid of color, devoid of time the world was neither dark nor bright, but somewhere in-between. Silver sky reflected in white snow- contrasted by the charcoal shadows and black-tar roads. There was no color. There was no sound. No children laughing, talking, shouting- They are all at … Continue reading Silent Movie Morning
Brown Christmas: A Poem about Growing-Up Southern
Brown Christmas: A Poem About Growing-up Southern It never snowed on Christmas in Houston. Growing up, the December was nippy- and browning grass was crisp with frost. Our breath rose in puffs before our faces- but snow never fell on Christmas day. I didn't mind that Christmas's weren't snowy. We had everything we … Continue reading Brown Christmas: A Poem about Growing-Up Southern
Writer’s Mania
I am convinced that all writers are unstable. The manic energy that possesses us- that thing we call "inspiration"- the frantic need to create- the voices that fill our minds with the words that flow from our mouths, our hands- those muses, those demons, those divine gods or angels- it is a possession. It's a … Continue reading Writer’s Mania
I Cried Tonight
I cried tonight The first time since we broke us The first tears since the last time That we failed to break the curse that keeps us apart. I cried tonight. The first time since I gave up. The first ache since I allowed numbness To replace sharp despair over how close we … Continue reading I Cried Tonight
One Last, One Last Time
*Rough Draft* One last, one last time. You asked me for one last, one last time. Against my better judgement I gave it to you. One last, one last time. I fell for you one last, one last time. I knew it would end- But I loved you. One last, one last … Continue reading One Last, One Last Time
Seven Deadly Sins: Lust
Writing Challenge: Jan 22, 2018 Prompt: Write a poem each of the seven deadly sins. You cannot use their names. *Seven Deadly Sins Part 3 of 7* I need to feel skin- Contact- And connection. Feeding the hunger- With the Taste- Touches- Sight- Sound- And smell of someone else. Filling the emptiness- And satisfying … Continue reading Seven Deadly Sins: Lust
Grandpa’s Stories
My favorite Holiday is fast approaching- THANKSGIVING! In honor of this family-gathering Holiday I thought a little family-centered poem would be in order. A family tradition Of our own making- Grandpa’s stories told at each gathering Tales of misadventure: Of a child, Marine, father, and grandpa, Delight and entertain the growing clan. … Continue reading Grandpa’s Stories
