Uncategorized

   Peace is rare to keep. It is the sound the heart sows For silence to sleep. 

   Do you ever write something and worry that you’ll be put into a psychiatric ward after publishing it? Is that the sign of a good story or a strange mind?   

Sometimes little things Make you scream Like mean little pictures About everything.  And the lights of the day Ranging from orange till black Make you hear all the things In the dark Which go CRACK.  …and you know you hear someone At the window? At the door? And you feel some whispering you didn’t feel…

Waking up on a Saturday morning is wonderful. I can get work done. I can smell a fresh cup of coffee brewing downstairs and I’m already hungry and imagining a decadently fluffy stack of pancakes calling my name. And the best part is that I feel so relaxed, rejuvenated, and ready to take on this…

   Ironic Fortunes: Sometimes you ask where your writing road is headed. Sometimes you don’t see the road.  And other times you’re cryptic and the road is a method of philosophic means to get across a deep point that nobody wants to hear.  Happy Friday. 🙂

Have you ever had a deja vu moment? I had one yesterday and it was surreal. Of course, being superstitious (and a writer), I had to figure out why immediately. So I went online (the mother load of true knowledge- forget the Library of Alexandria) and saw everything from para psychologists to reincarnation. Who knows?…

  It’s true. I believe I’m an introvert, at least, I think I am one. I don’t talk much and parties definitely drain me. The only way I can feel outgoing is by drinking two cups of coffee, but then I’m so hyper that I barely hear what I have to say. But writing is so…

  Tell me why the clouds look different. Is it the sky? Is it me? Or is it because I’m wishing I was anywhere else?  Ah well, all play and no work makes Jack a procrastinator. The writing keyboard is calling my name… But homework first. 

Across the world You see people who look And touch and sound Different.  And you know  When you return You’ll have many words To describe what you had seen But almost no words To describe your way home.    Sometimes you get that urge to travel. You look around at the same four walls of work,…