Delay of Autumn

a free verse poem of the season Image by Gerald Friedrich from Pixabay Delay of Autumn The Autumn wreath with plastic applesaged pine conesresides in closeted bin Temperatures dipdays shortensignaling yellows, deep reds, bursts of orangethe ushering in ofpumpkin — everythingnot this year the corn has been cuthusk-less stalks, sparse, driedscatter the field in muted … Continue reading Delay of Autumn

Epiphany– a free verse poem on the creative process

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay Epiphany I can attach my entire existenceto the golden bleed of sunthrough the whisp-staccato edges of a cloud Such moments steal my breath. I can spiral into cornersand come out of them painting with words. I can feel the energyflowing from life breathing lifeparalleling, combining, releasing. Epiphany moments, what … Continue reading Epiphany– a free verse poem on the creative process

On the Outskirts of the Blue Ridge

a poem about an afternoon drive through the beautiful foothills of the N.C. mountains Image by Christian B. from Pixabay Hilltop mobile homes parked in rows with weary cars and tufts of unruly grass. They are weathered, as am I. Collections of scrap-metal, small gardens boasting late tomatoes, plump red flashes on the vine. Corn … Continue reading On the Outskirts of the Blue Ridge

Excavating a Poem

a free verse poem celebrating the process Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay Excavating a Poem Some, a breath exhaled slowly into life-giving words. Some, an excavation with bristles firm, then soft and careful. Some, roots gnarled and half-buried we trip over them and follow them to trees. Some, grains of sand to be gathered … Continue reading Excavating a Poem

the skin i am in

a free-verse poem, “Human Prompt” Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay The following poem entitled "the skin i am in" was written in response to Medium's Human Parts weekend prompt and is published here: https://medium.com/@fnfwriter/the-skin-i-am-in-93fc77d6ba7b?source=friends_link&sk=6d40596a9ef6f7ebf0846cefc782ae46 the skin i am in watery wombmy cells gatherwrapped in the skini’d be born inwrinkled, noisyerupting into air concrete burningtiny feet runningjune bugs dartingin … Continue reading the skin i am in

Tea and Memories

a free verse poem Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash Hot tea, infused with sugarwhite, granular, swallowed-up.Powdered creamer swirls, slips inside, a marriageof “Good Morning” and “Wake up”to me, sleepy on the couch.Pungent warmth to tongue, to throat,to the insides…a dissipationto soothe the memoriesaway. Some days they come.A survivor, me? The multi-syllabic mess of me?You have so much to offer, she said, with a genuine smile.She was … Continue reading Tea and Memories

Circles and Stones

a free verse poem Photo by Halanna Halila on Unsplash You cast stoneslift your curses high,chanting carried away,to hide and wait for you…its return three-fold?I think no goddess hears you.It is a barren place,your circle. It is my pleasure,to wipe your sweet nectar fromproboscis and pen,parts of your souldigging into mine. (I use it!)I abuse it, this loving … Continue reading Circles and Stones

The Poetry Paintbrush Can Write Your Life

it began for me with Sylvia Plath’s Edge Pixabay, No attribution required I am thinking of my favorite paintbrush — poetry 🖌 My first experience with loving the poetic word was in a high school literature class when my teacher assigned us to choose a poem and deliver a short speech about it to our class. The poem I … Continue reading The Poetry Paintbrush Can Write Your Life

Learn to Write Better Poetry

a lesson Image by Ulrike Mai from Pixabay  If there’s anything I’ve learned about writing poetry, it’s that you’re never done learning how to do it. Anytime I find a new angle, a new inspiration, or technique, it feels like my first day as a poet all over again. I pick up my imaginary feather quill, dip it … Continue reading Learn to Write Better Poetry

Swallow Me Whole

a poem of Contemplation Image from Pixabay Beneath this earthso many souls. In this groundright where I stand,my bare-heeled ache on the grit;do they linger here? Do their solemn hazes pass me by as my breath drifts meone day to the next?Am I aware ofthat chill, that pressure in the airshifting, disturbing,a moaning whisper to myhuman ears?Does it shift me? I … Continue reading Swallow Me Whole