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Angel
Feathers fall, scattering across the floor like light through leaves. Wings laid bare beneath scrutiny; perfection isn’t perfect enough.
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Can We Call?
Hey, can we call? Yes, you want to say. But you know that it’s too late. But you want to say yes so bad.
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The Beauty of Sleeping
What do you always dream about? Being a little kid with no fears. What I want to be when I’m older.
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The Light and the Dark
Oh, the multitudes in their times wish a prerogative to leave for somewhere celestial
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Sijo Poetry Collection
A collection of Sijo poetry about a variety of topics
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I’m. So. Bored.
The platypus is a wonderful thing So are philanthropy, insects, and toddlers that cling
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The Noble Food Fight
All the lords and ladies stream through the door And onto the royal dancing floor And lo! what assails their eyes But food, meat, veggies, and a lot of pies
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When I’m Mixed
When I’m too black When I’m too white And still get the vicious racist comments When I’m too white for the black kids
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She Felt Loved
She felt comfort as her mom did her makeup in the bathroom as music played. She felt pretty as she put on her first homecoming dress and walked down the…
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In Pursuit of Escape from Today
I always feel so cold, As I am searching for peace. How I wish to find it in a book, Or a black-and-white movie,
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Brown Skinned Beauty
Love and kindness welcomed me with wide-tooth combs and rosemary Love and affection surrounded me with sweet R&B and smells of honey
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No Road is Long with Good Company
I once had a friend who had a sole purpose: To protect and support as I put in the miles. Faded, torn, worn through many trials, For no road is…
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This Summer
The weather starts to feel familiar, Warmer days force me to remember I see us running, barefoot and laughing, Racing through backyards and bushes
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A Vagabond
I come from large airport terminals And loud intercoms. I come from the clanging of suitcases And cacophonies.
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Metamorphosis
I’m wrapped tightly in a clean-creased-cocoon. Isolated and invisible from public-eye
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Living In a Dumpster Fire
The feeling, the sense, the being of despair. Despair of feeling decent, for once in my life. The drowning feelings of disarray.
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Haibun: Between Pink Stained Fingers
There’s a crab apple tree in my backyard. It’s been there for twenty years, four years older than I.
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My Light in the Dark
Maybe I overreact Maybe I’m just sensitive But ever since the third, Nothing’s the same.
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Early Morning in the Ozarks
Table Rock Lake sits below me. Fog covers it like a blanket whispering through the trees,
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Join us for our first annual create-a-thon fundraiser!
Join us for an interactive evening of adult fun through creating!
