Dear Depression, I notice that you are hanging around. More than usual. I try to avoid you. Or investigate you, staying in my mind rather than being in my body. But I think...no... I feel that I can't think about you anymore. My brain grows weary of protecting my heart. the walls whither. my secure…
Photo by Dương Nhân from Pexels Here is what I know about grief: It is anger. Rage that stabs at my spine and claws my throat. It burrows into my skull. It lurks just there. Just behind. It visits at night, shuffling, dragging brokenness into my bed. And I know what I need to do. I hear it…
Dad, There is no good way to start a letter to your dead father. I could say that I miss you. I think of you ever day. I wish you were here. But those truths are so obvious they border on mundane. They are truths that apply to many people and places and moments now…
Photo by Danila Popov from Pexels I've been away. Meaning, I've not been writing for public consumption. I keep telling people that "I'm not working right now. I'm writing." Which is funny for two reasons. One, because it makes it seem like writing is not work. It is. And two, because it makes it seem like I've been…
Glue. Tape. Batter. Dough. Honey.Paint sticks to a wall. Lipstick to a cheek. Chalk to a sidewalk.Mud. Wax. Clay. Sand. Moss.Moss sticks to everything. I see it on rocks, in trees. Sticks on the ground. Water is sticky. Oxygen, the third wheel, always looking for a mate. Relationships are sticky. Phlegm. Blood. Vomit. Shit.Death is sticky. It smells and…
I will no longer apologize for...
I can find 30 minutes. Just 30. I can find 30 minutes to take a breath. I can find 30 minutes to take a walk. Just 30. I can find 30 minutes to tell my daughter stories. And 30 minutes to watch my son play. I can find 30 minutes for listening to my partner.…
Breath in. Breath out. She mounted the stairs. Hollow footsteps across the stage eroded her confidence. The air thickened as she approached the center. Then she was there. Sweat sizzled off her skin. Her gut was a kettle. The pressure was building. Weighted silence settled. Breath in. Breath out. Begin.
From November 2006 "From a habitual low scorer" -- referring to my days as a slam poet. Enjoy! I'm happy where i am. and i'm ok with your confused look, how your head shook how you said i took you by surprise...and not in a good way. and why? why would i be happy with…
1 She walked into the restaurant with a toddler tangled in her arms. "Mama! Mama! Mama!" the boy cried. A man trailed behind them, a high chair in one hand and a bulky bag in the other. She thanked the server, then wrangled the boy into the high chair. They all sat. The boy immediately…
Artful Words to Inspire Everyday Living
Self-discovery & creativity.
frightfully wondrous things happen here.
Movie stories
Poetry & Prose...from Prompts
Learn Something New Daily, Teach What You Love
Raku pottery, vases, and gifts
Putting ideas into words.
Charly Slipp 