August

August burns the grass brown as corn tassels stretch to the sky, sentinels guarding against fall. Sticky hot days beg for autumn. Sweat beads on your brow as you laze in the pool and the dog pants his complaint. Waves of heat radiate on the street and the tar bubbles and sticks to the kid’s…

July

Let’s get drunk and forget our worries. Let’s spill our troubles to the universe in inebriated song. The veil over independence has been drawn back and the face is unknown to us. Let’s not celebrate this myth. Let’s exercise the freedom we have: hushed rebellion against our outrage—if just for one hour, one night. I…

June

the bullwhip of thunder frightens the cat. Cover the grill and bring in the porch cushions. watch the rain pelt the petals off flowers. lightning plays tag across the sky. rain drops dazzle on the leaves, bathed in break-away sun beams through the rushing clouds and the earth smells fresh and woodland I wrote this…

May

the season softens with drips of dew, harbinger of splendor. Magnolia petals billow in a pink and purple breeze as spring yields to the slow crawl of summer’s approach.   I wrote this draft as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect these works for a mixed media/writing piece I am working…

April

April moves as a mountain of clouds, rain broken by sun and unbroken again. April offers a pretentious hope of life renewed, drowns your hope and births it again. I wrote this draft as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect these works for a mixed media/writing piece I am working on…

January

the lack of snow changes the landscape to somber browns the lack of you changes everything else. How long will I be taken with sudden tears at certain images, words, or tones in song?

February

any sense of winter celebration has long faded, yet we are in the heart of the heart of winter. This long lingering feels like cultural failure. I beg for twinkling lights on snow as the days crawl toward longer light. —— a lonely soul sees no celebration in pink and red hearts, only another rejection….

March

If depression were a month, it would be March. The sky is a grayscale Van Gogh, turbulent, bled of color. The light hurts the eyes. The ceaselessness wounds the soul. 31 days drag over shrapnel of dreams of other months. I wrote this draft as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect…

saturday

the garden needs tending. And the soul needs rest. Saturday is torn from other pages. I wrote this draft as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect these works for a mixed media/writing piece I am working on entitled Love Letters to My Brother in Prison. 

The dreams of characters — a brief thought

When writing characters, do we ever stop to consider the characters’ dreams? The things, places, and people that our characters dream about—including daydream—tell the reader so much about the true motivation and desires of our characters. How characters interact with their fantasies tell us much about the character: do they indulge their fantasies, do they…