Tag Archives: poem

Empty counter

Empty Counter: a poem http://penpaperpad.com

Footsteps echo hollow in
empty shell.
Whispers passed here.
Kisses stolen pressed against counter
while little prying eyes
closed for night’s slumber.
Same counter where champagne flutes were filled
toasting bright promise of a new year.
Marbled tile, shining.
Matching minimal fixtures.
Cold. Metal. Shiny. Empty.
Where the paper left.
What’s mine is hers.
What’s hers is hers.
I always hated this counter.


I wrote this in response to last week’s poetry prompt for The Reverie Journal about a change. For some reason, when I pictured a change it was more of a negative. Instead of a beautiful Spring day, I thought of divorce. Bright and cheery one, aren’t I?

Also, in honor of Poetry Month, I’m doing a different giveaway each week on GoodReads. That’s four chances to win a copy of my poetry collection, The Shaping of an “Angry” Black Woman. I’ve made it easy by putting a link in the column there. Have a click and give it a go! Ya never know .


Let me know what you think in the comments below.


Aloha y’all! 



Filed under My Poetry

Ladies Night- A Poem


The lights were dazzling.
Red, yellow, blue dreamboats
Optical haze.
And the tunes,
Man that music
Gets that junk in your trunk
Moving and grooving.
Seen her rolling past,
Once or twice. Popping bubble gum,
twirling it around her finger.
Roller skates with rainbow-colored laces,
Pigtails flying behind her,
Her Daisy Dukes green with white piping.
She rolls up to the bar and orders a drink,
Spins around, gives that telltale sniff
And laughs at words no one else hears.

I’m just sitting in the corner.
Fingers tapping to that beat man.
That beat.
Just stayin alive, baby.
It got Travolta to give that one-fingered reach to the heavens,
didn’t it?
It gets this club packed every night.
Feeling out of sight.
Bodies are swaying.
Energy high in this join tonight.
Air heavy with expectations, English Leather
And all the booze.

She got her drink now.
Something dark brown
like her eyes.
When she stretches up to hug the man
in front of her,
A thin line of skin shows,
my fingers skip a beat.

Flick my collar
I adjust my shades,
give a nod to this hot mama
wearing those green heels and a matching pants suit.
Her bells rocked while she walked.
She changes directions,
Saunters over,
Hair and hips swinging to that beat.
Always had a thing for busty brunettes.
She settles in beside me,
I hand her the straw
Her hand reaches under the table,
While her face leans toward those thin lines.
I take a drink from my whiskey and Coke.
Leaning back.
Just staying alive baby.

The 70s are back baby! I took up my challenge from The Reverie Journal and I wrote a poem about a specific time from the past. For some reason, the 70s called to me. I guess tonight I wanted to go to Studio 56. If you need a writing prompt, go check it out. It’s good times, good times.

Let me know what you think in the comments. And be sure to swing by my Facebook page this week. I’m going to be doing a cover reveal for the first in my short story collection, “Just One Night.” I’ll tell you more about it over there.

Aloha y’all!


Filed under Poetry

The Quandary of Dreams


I hadn’t made a video in a few weeks, so the prompt for OctPoWriMo Day 22 was right on time for me. Just enough impetus to light a fire under my reluctant self. Then taking that prompt with the prompt I wrote for The Reverie this week, and OctPoWriMo Day 23–well, blend them together and out came this:

I hope you enjoyed this poem. I don’t usually make videos with rough drafts, but why not? Let me know what you think in the comments. If you haven’t already subscribe!


Aloha y’all! 


Filed under My Poetry