Untitled Poems 1 – 4

Yesterday, I began sorting boxes my parents delivered over a year ago after Jacob and I moved into the house. One of these boxes was a mix of school papers, including some of my earliest poetry. These are the poems I’d forgotten about.

Based on the folder, they were written sometime between 2000 and 2005, so I was between ages 10 and 16. As I go through these some will be hilarious and worth keeping for that reason alone. Some are insights into the mind of an adolescent alive during that time period and the observations they chose to write down.

I’m started with a series of four untitled poems, four lines each. Now, enjoy some childish, painful forced rhyme.


Poem 1

Sometimes I’m jealous
Of those who win
All the things
That might have been


Poem 2

We tend to love
What time we waste
The past is delicious;
Time? An acquired taste.


Poem 3

Oh Glory Be! In times we say
As all hope drifts far away
It is the clouded sea she took
And my heart – a little brook


Poem 4

Sometimes the world just passes by
A shock so sudden we can’t cry
With each candle on birthday cake
Comes regret with decisions we make


Thank you for taking the time to read these today! Without you these posts don’t carry the same meaning. Have you ever found any of your old writing? What did you think of it? What do you think of these? I’d love to hear in the comments!

If you’d like to see more of my forgotten poetry, please like, comment, and/or share this post. It helps me know what content my readers are most interested in seeing, so I can better know what to share here.

New Short Story: The Vacant House

Photo by Sidney See on Unsplash.com

Up now on Coffee House Writers is my short story The Vacant House.

This is an experimental piece I’ve played around with since its first draft in 2015. Since then it morphed into what it is now and I decided that it was time to throw it out into the world for some feedback. My editor didn’t have much to provide, so maybe others can help?

The initial idea:

How can I tell a story from the perspective of something that would normally not be given the benefit of thought and perception?

How would a house try to communicate with its occupants?

I had to make certain decisions that frustrated me, such as the house being able to read and understand English. This introduced a supernatural element that, while I am already pushing things by talking about a house capable of thought and perception, seemed a bit too farfetched.

Another thing that frustrated me about this piece: the house’s existential crisis.

What are your thoughts on the piece? Do you have feedback?

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!

If you enjoy my work, please take a moment to like, share, and/or leave a comment. This helps me know what y’all are most interested in seeing and how I can best engage. Without you, these letters mean nothing -– your brain assembles them in a way that generates meaning and decodes the way my brain encoded this information as I typed this out. It’s viewable on brain imaging studies on language processing!

Free Books And Guest Blogs!

What’s Happening?

From October through December, 2020, I will be making room for 1-2 guest posts per week. These guest posts will be of the following theme:

Critiques of Best Sellers & Famous Historic Authors

These critiques can be silly, serious, sassy, analytical, historical context focused, and, most importantly, entirely up to the choosing of the individual writing it. Each of these posts is a chance for readers to connect with a new and different author or book reviewer’s blog. They should be a minimum of 500 words and of high quality.

They cannot be: excessively rude, hateful, threatening violence, or anything that crosses over the line away from comedy into areas that make this not fun for readers or the person running this website (me).

The Fine Print On Who I Can Ship To: Unfortunately, due to current situations, this is limited to addresses within the United States. I’m sorry 😦 As global conditions improve I hope to offer more opportunities that are inclusive of other countries.

To participate, please follow all instructions. Any emails not following instructions will be deleted.

Instructions:

  • Select a book from this list – I will keep it updated as books are no longer available.
  • Send me an email with the book title in the subject line.
  • In the body of the email provide the following:
    • A U.S. shipping address
    • A link to your website and social media
    • A brief description of your approach – it’s 100% okay if this changes once you have read the book.

Once a critique draft is completed, I will work with individuals on necessary edits for quality control.

Disqualifications:

In the interest of fairness, those that cannot participate are:

  • Non-US authors and bloggers (unless you arrange the remaining shipping from a US destination)
  • Authors I have previously featured or reviewed (if your book is currently in my TBR, you are absolutely welcome!)
  • Authors and bloggers that have previously provided guest posts
  • My personal, real life friends and family (though friends of friends and acquaintances are fine)
  • Clients of my writing services (I love you, but I can’t show preference)

I will ship out all book requests by 15 August, 2020 in the order they are received. I am paying shipping.

American Cultured – A Poem


American Cultured

Cultured like roadkill
On a hot summer’s day
Drive by high speed
18 wheeler fly by
Accents rolling off tongues
Cleaner than a sailors
With the artificial faiths
Of political bumper stickers
The cults of dental insurance
Filtering through Eisenhower’s veins
With flashbulb cameras
And Hollywood trends
They choke on their implosion
Exposed maggots chewing away
The rotten insides
Of the country we mowed down
On our way to a National Park


Thank you so much for reading my new poem today! If you found connection to its words, please consider liking, commenting, and/or sharing it with others. Truly, I am grateful for the time you spent reading my work.