Composed 8/1/13
Description: This is my response to We Drink Because We’re Poet’s prompt, Love.  As the prompt dictates, this is a Kyrielle Sonnet.  I have not done much with forms since I’ve started this blog, so this is something a little different for me. The form, which stresses repetition, seemed appropriate to express my idea of love — that love is consistency, not a one-time thing.  It’s living life together, day after day.

Let me know what you think!

Love’s the warmth of a bed that’s shared
The feel of freshly shampooed hair
Smells of your coffee in the light
And peaceful breathing in the night

Laughing after a night with friends
Teasing, touching until night ends
Soft spoken pledges after fights
And peaceful breathing in the night

Watching kids as the school bus leaves
Rubbing each other’s hands and knees
Stroking tears when life won’t go right
And peaceful breathing in the night

Love’s the warmth of a bed that’s shared
And peaceful breathing in the night


Composed 7/25/13
Description: My response to
We Drink Because We’re Poets’ Thursday Poetry Prompt: Weakness. What is weakness? There are many different kinds of weakness I could write about, but this one spoke to me this evening….

when ice water shoots through my heart
and bugs bite beneath my skin
you tie me up in puppet strings
and stand me on my feet




you lead me through

but the wind whips briskly still
and your strings
twist and tie and trip
and slip off of my wrists and feet and then




I fall

my arms
my legs
they’re frozen now
my heart
my head
their pain throbs new
when I’m forced to walk on my own feet
my strength starts and stops
with you


Composed 7/18/13
Description: My response to We Drink Because We’re Poets’ Thursday Poetry Prompt #12: “Honor.” What is honor? In response I recorded a  scenario I’ve imagined many times. It’s short, but, I hope, powerful.

A door beat down
A gasp
A gun
A snarled question
A yes
A shot

The most peaceful way
To die

True Happiness

Composed: 7/15/13
Description: I wrote this in response to We Drink Because We’re Poets’ Prompt “Happiness.” The prompt challenged us to write a poem about what makes us happy; so naturally, I immediately scribbled down perhaps the most depressing verse ever. Ha, but it does get better, I promise!

True happiness?
How can one know?
I’ve rarely seen that thing
The glow
Not here
Not on this stone cold earth
We are doomed to sorrow
The moment of birth

True happiness?
I’ve just seen a gleam
In a mother’s bright eyes
A toddler’s glad scream
And then in a book
That speaks of a man
Who loves me so much
When no one possibly can

True happiness?
No, not here
There’s too much sadness
Shame and fear
But the book is a key
To a skyward bridge
True joy awaits
Just beyond the cloud’s ridge

And that joy I can taste
When the clouds rain down
And the man holds my hand
So I will not drown



Composed 1/4/11
Description: A little piece I was inspired to write after seeing this picture.

It is in the region of the Egova in which this tale takes place.  There it is said that the spirits once lived, for the deep slopes of the hills and mountains are cut into hundreds of tiny stair steps which lead to grand, smooth plateaus.   The plateaus are said to be where the houses of the spirits rested for thousands of years until these spirits, exasperated with humanity, destroyed their earthen residences and disappeared into the heavens – a world they created in which they could be alone and truly rest in peace.

However, it was rumored that some spirits stayed behind in Egova.  These few had grown so attached to this place that they would not leave; instead they vowed to stay on Earth forever, to watch over and protect the land.  The Great Spirit, who created the heavens and the earth, looked favorably on these few and blessed them with powers similar to his own.  This way they could protect the earth during his absence.

Humans moved into the mountains once the spirits left, building small settlements directly into the ancient stairways.  In these first days, many villagers witnessed ghostly forms strolling in the distance, circling the communities.  Frightened by this, they built shrines for the spirits to show their good intentions.  The visions then stopped.  However, the villagers kept a wide birth from these shrines, arriving only once a year to tend to the shrines and present gifts to the spirits.  Disturbing a spirit’s shrine on any other day was considered bad luck – not only for the individual, but for all the people of the mountain.

Spirit sightings had been rare since those first days.  Only a certain few had witnessed bizarre or extraordinary events, things that could only be explained as the work of a spirit.  Miraculous healings, massive, destructive fires… Both were considered signs of favor or disapproval of the spirits, respectively.

But seeing a tangible form of a spirit was rarely heard off.  What they looked like was only known because of myths, and even they were contradictory.  Some believed they possessed human-like forms, while others claimed they took form as animals.

Nevertheless, as the years passed, villagers continued to pay homage to the shrines; though, stories of spirits were always told in past tense, as if the species had died off long ago… Continue reading