Images of Sweet pinkness of cheeks, Searching mouth, the Smell of newborn breath, Bursting forth of joy, the Overwhelming need to protect, Prayers for an easy delivery… A stifled scream, A final push… “He is coming, and I am here.” –– this last line is…

I am not okay Some of the hardest words to say When all I want is to see you smile Just a little while Before I walk away and close the door To find myself surrounded by my fears and sorrows once more The momentary…

Lightning (Hour 4 – Half Marathon 2021) By David Hirsh However you conclude We will applaud Some will stand Others will stay sitting The sound of your voice Carries across the hall Built for acoustic marvels I, myself, am in awe This is the third…

It follows the sun like currency striking the sadness like a match it will crawl into your new into places never wandered into your blank space quilting upon your imperfections making you see more than what was intended troubling your mirrored reflection you search your…

“If we meet—“ and then he faded again, and kept on fading, until there was nothing left of him to hold back the Great Dark descending on the world, except his words.1  And the Great Dark did descend, has descended, again and again. Each time…

Needed someone so badly that you swallowed your pride and called them despite them not feeling the same Been in love with someone that you can’t have, because someone else already got to them first Went out of your way to spend time with them,…

Text Prompt Grab a book from your shelf. Read the last line in it. You have to use that line as the first or last line of your poem (with credit). “A Last Note From Your Narrator: I am haunted by humans.” — Markus Zusak, The…

plant seeds of joy and blessings will rain let them fall in and around you like mulberry’s in early summer  

a photo of an image, green rises above what is night inked dreams

Is the unnamed narrator also, inevitably,  An unreliable one? Reader, you only know  the world that she lays out like cards  on the table before you. Who knows what  she hides? Certain ruptures,  Tuesday afternoon traffic jams, the inevitable boredom of 3 or 4 a.m….