Category: Poetic Prose
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Becoming Before I was a tree, I was a secret.I slept beneath the earth in a coat of darkness, small enough to be overlooked and quiet enough to be forgotten. Above me, the world carried on without knowing my name. Rain tapped softly against the soil. Worms tunneled past me like old neighbors. Roots from…
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The Common Man The common man survives quietly.He rises before the sun has decided what kind of day it will be. He pulls on yesterday’s tired shoes, carries tomorrow’s worries in his pockets, and goes to work beneath the weight of bills, promises, and mouths that must be fed. No trumpets sound for him. No…
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To Be—Anyway To live or give up—that is the question.Is it better to keep taking every hit life throws,or to finally say, I’m doneand end the pain for good?Dying sounds like sleep—quiet, peaceful, no more stress,no more heartbreak, no more pretending everything is fine.But what if death is not the end?What if something comes after,and…
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Barren of Leaves He stood like a tree winter had forgotten to finish—all bone, bark, and bitter silence. Once, perhaps, something green had stirred inside him. A tenderness. A small mercy. But he had starved every soft thing at the root until nothing remained but twisted branches reaching toward a sky that no longer answered.People…
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For Susan Sue stands at her kitchen counter,cutting a piece of cheddarfrom the block she keeps there—not cold from the refrigerator,but soft beneath the knife,warm enough to releaseits sharp, familiar scent.She lifts it to her mouth,and before she can finish chewing,the kitchen fades.She is a little girl againin the early seventies,standing beside Mydaddyon the front…
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My Joy My joy begins where the first light slips through the longleaf pines of North Florida, painting the forest floor in ribbons of gold. Before the roads awaken and the world remembers its hurry, I find peace in the hush of creation—in the rustle of palmettos, the chorus of songbirds, and the gentle breeze…
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A Flower of Radiant Beauty She rises where the quiet light is born,not asking permission from the morning sky,but opening anyway—petal by petal,as if the world itselfhad called her name.The wind moves around her gently,as though it rememberssomething sacred it once forgot.Even time slows here,hesitating at the edge of colortoo vivid to pass without notice.She…
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Mending A heart can break from death,from the empty chair at the table,from a voice you still expect to hearwhen morning enters the room.It can break from rejection,from hands that let go too easily,from being almost chosen,almost loved, almost enough.It can break from loss,from dreams packed away in silence,from names you no longer saybecause they…
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Gravitational Pull We are all broken in oneway or another, though some of uswon’t admit it, and we gravitatetowards the brokenness in others.We gravitate to those people, placesor things in which we see pieces ofourselves.A cracked laugh.A tired smile.A silence that sounds like home.We recognize the achebefore anyone names it,feel the pull before we understandthat…
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Even Seeds Split Stone You ever feel so smallThat even a mustard seed appears mountainous,and no one noticeshow hard you are fighting just to stand?Like the floor has swallowed your shadow,like your voice has folded itselfinto the corner of your chest,too tired to ask for room.You smile because people expect sunrise,but inside, clouds keep gathering,heavy…
My Life In Word 