Yesterday-- I went to the drive-thru at Starbucks. As the barista handed me a cup of hot, black coffee-- The tips of our fingers brushed ever so slightly, for less than half a second. And as I took my first bittersweet sip, I realized-- That was the only human touch, I had felt in nearly … Continue reading Worn-Out Wednesday Presents: Coffee, in the Time of COVID19
Where does this poem begin? With a drop of lace, draped gracefully over a gallant wrist-- solicitious fingers brushing an errant lock of golden curls over the delicate curve of an ear most tender pale. . And my mind swirls with such verse as would blush that lily petal red. . Then I-- clasping that … Continue reading Whispering Wednesday Presents: No More Metaphors Required
The sweeping wind slices its way tenderly through the weeping willows’ tendril boughs Like a paper knife carefully cutting out silhouettes into a kaleidoscope of broken shadows, While the rubicund light bleeds in sun-drops through the jagged edges of the leaves To where we repose entangled in our restlessness beneath the shelter of the trees. … Continue reading Wounded Wednesday Presents: A Paler Shade of Truth
[Content Warning: Adult Language, Sacrilegious Burrito, Pig Latin, Questionable Grammar] Am I asleep? Am I awake? Why did I stay up so late? STARE AT THE SCREEN. STARE AT THE SCREEN. STARE AT THE SCREEN. Click. Click. Fuck. Fuck it. Fuck. What? Am I asleep? Am I awake? Why did I stay up so late? … Continue reading WTF Wednesday Presents: I Don’t Even Know What This Is
It wakes in its dreams and finds itself in human form, This is but a brief diversion from whatever it was before. It walks on two feet and swings its flappy hands by its side. It has a head with a face on it, and two eyes open wide. It builds up sandcastles and stomps … Continue reading Wakeful Wednesday Presents: The Insomnambulist
I fear this poem is in poor taste, or worse that it’s a complete and total waste both of time, and of rhyme. I don’t want to say it but I’m not gonna lie. The truth of it is, the reason why I wrote this poem was just to fill space. It began without meaning. … Continue reading Witless Wednesday Presents: A Poem, A Lot Like Life
What is it that drives a moth to the flame?Is it the beauty? Or is it the pain?Is it seduced by the warm embrace of the fire--Propelled to touch by some burning desire? Or does the danger play a part?Does the bliss of agony entice its heart?To kiss the fire but escape the flameand dance … Continue reading Wondering Wednesday Presents: What Drives a Moth to the Flame?
I wonder about the color of your eyes— How it shifted and sparkled like the surface of the lake under the kiss of the sun— As bright and beautiful and uncatchable as the light itself, A mirage I cannot capture in the eye of my memory Blinded as it is by the shifting sands of … Continue reading Wistful Wednesday Presents: The Color of Your Eyes
The Guillotine's Tune C’mon, fly with me and let it all hang loose We’ll tap and sway on the tips of our shoes-- Just swinging to the rhythm of the hangman’s blues. Hand in hand, and we’ll skip down there-- And we’ll shimmy and shake with live-wire flare Just snapping to the beat of the … Continue reading Wicked Wednesday Presents:
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter pads the sound of teeny tiny tripping trapping Tumbling, twirling, twisting, curling, little-little feet a-dancing It’s not the children, oh my, oh no, not the children never they They’re gone forever, flapped their feet and flew away No, no, no, ‘tis just the scritch-scritch-scratch and rat-ta-tat-tat of rats’ attack The squeak-squeak crack and … Continue reading Weird Wednesday Presents: Peter Pied Piper
The Rookery 