fb
Poems
Midnight Thoughts

Midnight Thoughts

Midnight thoughts surround me, messy and monstrous, so I tread carefully. I slip between the forests built of whispers of words, searching for possibilities.

read more
Spaceless Race

Spaceless Race

I run a race that no one can see, but too often I lag behind. I watch the leaves glide on the wind and wonder what it’s like to bide time. When I pause to take a breath, the wind shoves an unchecked task list into my clenched hand.

read more
The Stars Are Singing

The Stars Are Singing

Earth, an infant of giant size, rocked gently by the ocean’s rise; calm, unpeopled, its surface lies. Above are spread the lightening skies with all the joy of the planets ringing; together the morning stars are singing.

read more
The Idea of Flowers

The Idea of Flowers

Each bee that’s crystalline with spring’s golden frost (each filament gleaming with the idea of flowers) carries with it the possibility of true abundance—the hope of things not yet seen by the manifold eyes of the wild world.

read more
Mosaic

Mosaic

They say these years are where you find yourself—but mind yourself, they don’t tell you where to look. I tried to search in mirrors, but I fear they seem far fiercer when scattered scars and freckles are the only baited hooks. I’ve watched the windows of my soul to catch a glimpse beyond their gates, but the eyes that watched me back were quick to bicker and deceive.

read more
Fearful Wonders

Fearful Wonders

I am fearfully made in this garden of wonders where sun dapples down upon bench and bed, upon creeper and crocus, with shoots lancing quickly up, defiant through dampened earth.

read more
Red Ink

Red Ink

In case you’ve ever wondered what goes on in an editor’s brain, her desire to conquer syntax can cause an awful strain. A typo, a misspelling, a hyphen out of place will etch a deep, deep crease upon an editor’s face.

read more
Pain Well

Pain Well

That sunny day I stepped upon a shell, its bitter clam’s edge digging in my sole. I remembered why we pain, remembered well. So I dug in deeper, dug deeper still, my foot on the shard in the fleeting hole, that sunny day I stepped upon the shell.

read more

Article Categories

Poetry Isn't Just for Poets

Poetry Isn't Just for Poets

It can also help novelists write better stories!

Get our Harnessing the Power of Poetry e-book to learn how techniques used by skilled poets can enrich your storytelling.

Congratulations! Redirecting you to the eBook in one moment...

Pin It on Pinterest