I pace, thinking about all the possibilities. The ticking clock teases me as her seconds pass, And each hour draws me closer to a reality Eagerly waiting to be revealed. I see signs that mean a million things, And a thousand “what ifs” flood my mind. But I don’t give in to the uncertain air. ...

Red brick and weathered stoneCreate the halls of my prison.The shadows speak in riddlesAnd sunlight is a dim memoryWithin these hallowed halls. Inmates pass like ghosts,Their discordant cries echoingIn the oppressive silenceThat settles onto my bonesLike steel chainsAnd keep me rootedIn my misery. I watch them go,Knowing that my destinyIs to follow themInto the unknown ...

paddling in time, tracing tranquility’s lines.  rowing upstream,  or flowing downstream– no matter.  time floats in no direction. time hears no commands. time flies in the sky. time is not a passenger. time neither says hello nor goodbye. time never dies.  Editor: Erynn Crittenden

What will be the meaning of life, If you never jump, If you never take the leap? Will you leave all your dreams Dying in a heap? The choice will be yours to make- To rise above, To accept your mistakes And set them free. Life will be a journey Full of lessons. Lessons that ...

  Before I could feel my fever rising.My head was screaming,and I was freezing-despite global warming. Sharp sheets of rainswept through my fuzzy brain,with a little picture of everything. Between Perhaps it was the fever.Perhaps it was the mist.But it felt surreal to be on cloud nine,above the World’s awesome alpines. Beyond I had never ...

How far is night from day? Not far! It’s a golden flash right before my eyes.   Seems like seconds ago, you were a tiny baby, So helpless, needing my every minute. Now, adorable ‘coos’ of growth fill the air. Little fingers curiously grasp life’s essence.   Oh, time has passed, my dear. Only, I ...

An ordinary man, unafraid, unashamed, cherished by humanity, Bold to proclaim truth on rooftops, regardless of cost. A man once asked, with sincerity, like talking to a friend. “If you could be associated with one thing, how would you want to be remembered?” And without hesitation, spoken from the lips of one honest and loving, ...

Is it really poetry if we're forced to create it? Only the poet knows.

I miss the days where my world was filled with bursts of color, sparkling and bright. What was once a cacophony of life and joy has been sucked dry by a society full of expectations and boxes. Trends must be followed, personalities squashed to fit in with those around us; individuality missing. I used to ...

Sometimes I feel her. A gentle nudge on the invisible thread that links us together, pulling me towards her. Sometimes I hear her. The melodic voice that puts me into a slumber luring me closer. But I say “No!” My son’s not grown yet. I haven’t traveled the world yet, and my writing’s not known ...