-
The Twenty-fourth of August

The road is paved with sunflowers, Sprouting from the pockets of the enemy. An invasion was ordered in just mere hours, To secure Kyiv and steal your identity. But like the myths of the Greeks and Romans before you, You stood aloft on your defensives, head held high and fear unbecoming, Because the blood in…
-
Ink and Paper

None withstanding the light of the dark, The sword, the armor, and the Knight’s Mark. Across these few trampled plains. The wind weepers and the ghost’s chains Dancing across the white banks of papyrus. Inkling shadows from a written virus. The sun, the moon, and the stars. Under the point of a pen they shine,…
-
Wooded

A poem a day Among the withered light. Through the blossoming May, Cherished is those deep in the fight. For by the wind taken, Evening rafts drifting over the water cape. The howls of the night awaken As the woodland bowls scrape. A poem a day Shiver through the haunting storm Through this tumble—the lightning…
-
The Author’s Arsenal

The Gap between lines Some open paper, and a curious thought The autumnal kaleidoscopes and the weathered signs. The dust-riddled artifacts, ideas reinvigorated and caught. A pen, its husk battered and its ink freshly fused, lies in wait, These are the indicative warnings of a literary storm. Books along the mantle, papers thrown across the…
-
March 12, 2014

The wind howls at the evening twilight The ceiling lamp flickers above the last minute laborers As the sun settles, the moon takes flight All through the blustery night. The stillness goes uninterrupted, Woven from those quiet workers, Even from the night’s lurkers. Photo by Doug Walters on Unsplash
-
Oil and Water

The age old battle continues, Along the many levels of terrain The soldiers, fighting out the war without restrain, Two sides clash, like oil and water. Over and over, a victor has not yet been met, On this waring hillside, soaking wet; With oil and water, the two opposing sides. A battle that will not…



