Tag Archives: Poetry

Fantastical #OctPoWriMo

They gathered round

black feathers slick

drops splash against

stain the skin

wings-spanned mountainside

flutters soft at first,

the furious, furring

sand pulling and spinning

stealing air,

squinted sights so beaks

restrained with golden ropes,

strained but never snapped.

On their backs

through lowered lashes

they are ephemeral

the existence makes hearts

fear to thud, so they

slip a beat to not

compete with perfection.

They are jealous,

you know.

They tower above

the wind moves not a

white robe,

nary a dark hair,

with a gesture,

flippant and unimportant

the lot has dropped to its knees.

Young and old,

knobby and knobbed,

Their homage would be paid.

Their gift would be taken now.

It had all be foretold.

Years ago when the books written in a language

as buried as the long dead speaker.

They kneel.

And they wait.


This poem was influenced by the prompt  for #OctPoWriMo. I have planned to write more poems, but I didn’t have any inspiration until I saw today’s prompt “Fantastical.” And this came up. I hope you enjoyed reading it and tell me in the comments when you hear the word fantastical, what comes to mind? If you want to share a poem, I would love that.

Aloha y’all! 


Also, FYI, I’m giving away a chance to be in the thank you section of Blood Roses and Honeysuckles, which is getting closer to completion. Check out the link here to find out more info.


Filed under My Poetry

It happened again last night | Poetry

Hold the fork just so.

Do not like the prongs scrape against the white

porcelain slathered with the red sauce

that gives you heartburn,

but is his Mama’s recipe.

Do not breathe too heavily.

Don’t make eye contact.


That tension’s back in the air.

Feels hard to breathe it in, like

it fights with lungs for every sliver

of oxygen they manage to steal.


Don’t swallow loudly.

Even though the pasta

sludge in your throat.

Something happened at work

on the way home from work

or in checkout line for tonight’s paper bag filled nightmare.


The 5 Ws are only important

to people afforded the luxury to ask questions.


Keep your face smooth.

If you think quietly,

you could manage to disappear.

Fade into the wallpaper like

the antique roses on grandmama’s walls.

Just yesterday he had given you a rose.

Maybe that was last week.

Chipped counter holds the

curled petals,

their beauty leached from them.


Don’t ask questions.

Don’t frown.

Don’t smile.

Just don’t-


This is response to the poetry prompt for The Reverie Journal this week and Poets on the Page. I thought of cycles and immediately thought of the cycle of abuse. This is  the moment before the abuse starts. After the honeymoon period when things have settled and gone back to stasis.

Is there a cycle in life that makes your fingers itch to write? It doesn’t have to be a heavy topic, of course. That’s all up to you.

Aloha y’all!


Filed under My Poetry, Poetry

Insomniac Song (spokenword)

This is a spoken word piece that I wrote years ago that was about not getting any sleep. I’m posting this piece as response to The Reverie Journal‘s prompt for this week that was about fighting insomnia in some way. I really enjoy this poem, it is a live recording, so hopefully the audience sounds won’t annoy you. Thank you so much for listening and if you’re interested in writing a poem this week, definitely join us!

Aloha y’all


Filed under My Poetry