Featured Poem
My poem, “Free Fall” showcased by Eber &
Wein Publishing, as featured in their 2025 anthology,
Figments of Fire.
A Lost Home
Other than each of us bleeding red, needing water or food, No one gets to ask for life,
None of us, given a chance to give our personal say,
No barrier or shield to absorb Pain’s stakes.
Maybe a home?
A home will always be home,
Is what the Adam’s family says,
Nevertheless, it’s a phrasal pacifier petulantly popped into un-teethed mouths, at best.
It was only meant to be a first flying lesson. We practiced, prepared our entire lives… where are my siblings? My mother?? My father???
What happened to the throne that held our nest?
They all just need a little test—sings Zephyrus with his whispers and gusts. Sweeping and swirling a vortex of man’s hatchets and nature’s wraiths.
Beheaded by a cold blade, gaze-up at the phantom tax collector. For he comes for a debt you never asked to pay.
Ohhh woah are they who see! Look at this nest and cry.
Poor little bird that just wanted to fly—that flew and survived!! Came back home to say everything they left untold; to a lost home, no longer safe in a tree!!!
Cursed never to rest, and to prepare for inevitable ends. Always roaming, existing by chance, known forever for being alone.
Violet-blue
Face reshaped with war-paint,
Rivers running along your jaw
to conjoin at the base of your chin,
You look in the rear-view to see a purple shroud of pain behind your water colored eyes.
Those eyes that wander, weep, and moan.
They stare, and float,
Reliving crimson memories
and blues deeper than blood.
Tears begin to feel like gems and gold,
Relics from the unfinished rituals of mystical rhythms begun by two.
Imagine…
Blink! You’re daydreaming again, and people can see.
Wipe those glittering eyes.
They don’t see glamor,
It’s a demand, to be fine.
Take in sorrow,
1… 2… 3…
Let go rage,
4… 3… 2… 1…
Look for a sense of relief
And avoid your colorful grief.
Search for the end of all that is visible,
Pause the self decorative thistles,
Imagine the violet-blue, where,
There’s no doom… and dreams really do come true.
A Tea-party in Heaven
Do you see it?
The big big golden gates,
Soft swift angelic wings,
Endless sparks from loves once gone,
Rows of cakes, sandwiches, and sweets,
Triumphant rise of trumpets sound,
Every flower—blooming one-by-one as you walk in,
For you to be,
At a tea-party in Heaven.
A warm sentiment at best,
And a cruel unusual lie at worst.
Heaven’s not the same for everyone,
It’s infinite, individual, and invented.
So what do you see?
You knowww… at the tea-party in Heaven?
Clear sapphire skies above head,
Mountain ranges composed of pearly clouds,
A gazebo built by hand, frame-by-frame,
The beloved silver tray from Goodwill,
The plastic princess tea-set from Dollar Tree,
And a jar of Lipton powdered tea,
Paired with an orange from grandpa’s tree.
Flocks of seagulls begin to sail away,
Your head’s rested on grandma’s lap,
Open your eyes, see,
They’re gone.
You had fallen asleep,
Realize Heaven is always how it will be,
And what you imagine is all but a dream.
Got thoughts?
Feel free to reach out.