It is sometimes no wonder whatsoever that my breath is bated and my words spared
A Most Inopportune Time
My muse often visits me at most inconvenient times With two crows making love on a lamppost When one flies into the city to tell Johnny Something of an urgent manner "Finish up your delivery, and we shall move on with our lives" Warm pizza left in front of an apartment Running from the knocks on the... Continue Reading →
Coffee Shop Hours
I promise it won't be long until every sentence breathes
Thank You, Daily Post
From the bottom of my heart, thank you Daily Post for being the springboard for my blog, my emotional health, and my fire as a writer. You will be missed, you have done very well. Thank you.
Bottled Fortune
Scribbled, childish writing on the paper more profound than you grew to be
An Adventure Contemplated
And so, my pulse slowed, fever abated, fingers went numb. Yet there is still a touch of blush in my pale cheeks and blue lips. There is still a glint of the blinding sunrise scintillating in my eye.
Go Dog Go Café: Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge
Good morning friends, As you may or may not know, I am a Barista for Go Dog Go Café. Today, we have our Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge. As someone generally new to writing, I love partaking in these types of prompts, and I encourage you to take a leap and participate. Describe your life story... Continue Reading →
Of Caught-Soughts and Could-Stoods
Tread the world with light-footed dreams Be all that is aught, and a touch of what is naught Do not allow the tempest zephyr streams To knock your block into being caught-sought...
A Second’s Inspiration
Flipping each sheet one by one, he noticed a sparkle from the page he had been working on, which now appeared to be gilded on the edge as well. His eyes widened as he revealed the page, which appeared to be covered in oil-slick except for an outline where his hand and pen had been, which was now a silhouette of plain, off-white paper with a dot of smudged black where the ink had dripped. It bled into the slick and swirled into a mesmerizing, spiraling pattern. He dabbed the page with the paper towel he had been using to clean off his pen to see if the page was wet, but even after smearing and rubbing for a few seconds, the page seemed to be dry as a piece of plain paper could be.
