Author: Simona A. Brinson
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I stopped checking under the bed years ago. The room smelled of dust and warm cotton. The fan clicked once per rotation, a loose screw tapping time. I lay flat, hands on my chest, listening to my own breathing as if it belonged to someone else. You missed something today. The voice did not echo.…
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Every time I see a rainbow, I smile and recite this poem because it returns me to a moment when language first felt permanent—when words learned young took root and never quite left. If my memory serves me right, I memorized it in ninth-grade English, at an age when I didn’t yet understand everything it…
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PEACEFUL REVERIE In the tender light of morning, I find myself on the porch swing, gently swaying to the rhythm of a new day. The air is crisp, carrying the sweet scent of dew-kissed grass, mingling with the faint aroma of blooming flowers. As the first rays of sunlight pierce through the canopy of trees,…
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~by Kent M. Keith People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered.Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.Be kind anyway. If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies.Succeed anyway. If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you.Be honest and frank…
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~by Elizabeth Barrett Browning~ How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of being and ideal grace.I love thee to the level of every day’sMost quiet need, by sun and candle-light.I love thee freely,…
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Quiet Gravity I loved youlike the moonloves the night sky—not loudly,but constantly,by remaining.I suppose that is whygoodbye never learnedhow to leave my mouth.Even eight years on,I am still holding on,knuckles white with memory.I carry the painas if it were proof—a quiet gravitypulling me backwardthrough ordinary days.Grief does not fade;it rearranges the light.Some morningsI wake in…
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My monster is not under my bedShe drapes my waking hours in shameShe resides in my head She plays her careful games unsaidAnd trains my breath to speak her nameMy monster is not under my bed Night turns on night where fears are fedEach thought repeats, each loss the sameShe resides in my head She…
My Life In Word 