The Glass Eye

The Glass Eye

Most don’t seem to mind you
Looking at them, capturing
That moment. But I mind.

Your birth brought something new
And I wonder if your creator would find you insidious
As I sometimes do.

Everyone smiling, posing, snapping,
While I fumble out of the frame, uninclined.
I don’t like you, following me, watching me, looking at me.

Everyone adores you, but
I wish to keep you shut
At least until,
I am happy with my gut.


Tether Ropes

Tether Ropes

In a newly developed suburb, bursting with homes,
Is a dreamy hot air balloon
Filled to the brim with blank tomes
Waiting, waiting… For the stars to align with the blue moon.

The delay is long, arduous, so the balloon becomes occupied,
It makes friends as the weeds and plants grow,
Some of the tomes have verses, so the balloon is mollified,
Still waiting, waiting… For the stars and blue moon to glow.

The plants have grown vines, strong and budding,
Radiant, colorful in all their flowerly glory.
But the hot air balloon bids farewell, for the sky is stunning,
The blue moon and stars are out, so it’s time to fill the tomes
With new stories.

But the hot air balloon finds it hard to leave,
For the vines and friends are holding on
Should it stay with the empty tomes and grieve,
Or leave, to fill the pages with stories and songs?


Writer’s Constipation

Writer’s Constipation

Backed up are vivid concepts

And expressive characters,

A landscape filled with wonder and loss.


I would like a laxative

Or a fiber supplement for writers,

That will cure this dreadful constipation

Caused by my reprehensible environment.


See, I cannot even craft sonnets,

Let alone be my own editor,

When an all consuming darkness is my formidable and constant boss.


So please — a pill, a tonic, anything for a narrative,

Something to make me call myself a writer.

I really would like to get rid of this indigestion,

And reach that pinnacle, writerly enlightenment.







The Five Petal Flower

The Five Petal Flower

The First Petal

His name is Darius,

A lonely man who binges

On his own self misery,

And chugging bottles of Jack Daniel’s whiskey.


One lonely night, wasted and high

He is on his laptop

Perusing the Personals section, greeting each profile with a melancholy sigh.

Self misery awash, who would want him, society’s biggest flop?


An advertisement reads:

“Magic Flower Guaranteed to Find Love.”

He thinks, “This fulfills my needs.”

And he clicks, thanking the gods above.


It takes him to a website that asks for his Credit Card.

A thousand dollars in the hole,

Credit score forever marred,

Loneliness has stolen his soul.


Upon his doorstep he finds,

With morning dew still glistening,

A rainbow colored, five petal flower.

“I can bring two people together, no matter what kinds.

Use when lonely and passions are flickering

I cure relationships turned old and sour.”


A sober mind takes in his purchase with blind panic.

Chair, desk, laptop, walls — broken with a punch.

This is why the neighbors call him a manic,

For he flies into a temper quite a bunch.


In a hurry, flower in his shirt pocket,

Whiskey in hand,

He takes off like a rocket,

To the nearest park where he is unfortunately banned.

But no one is around

So he settles on a bench to

Listen to the sounds of the town.


Distorted face streaming with tears,

Darius enters the cradle rocking phase.

He prays, “Someone please, help me with my fears!”

— A gentle hand on his shoulder leaves him in a daze.


Standing above with bubble gum, pixie cut hair

And luminous blue eyes and freckled face

Is a woman showing some care

In an awkward space.


She sits, moving the bottle away,

And says nothing — yet

Keeps the tears at bay.

Darius says, “I’m lonely, unhappy, and in a lot of debt —

“My neighbors, my boss, the collectors, all they do is threat.”


“I’m sorry you feel this way,

Would you like to talk?”

And Darius replies, “I’m not sure what to say,

“I did a stupid thing today, and I’m still recovering from the shock.”


“We all do stupid things every once in a while,”

Said the girl with the bubblegum hair,

“But it’s best to lay things bare

So you can move on, don’t be scared.”
Convinced, Darius told her his foolish purchase,

And pulled out the five petal flower,

He’s feeling silly, stupid, and worthless,

As the clock tower sang the fifth evening hour.
“It’s a pretty little thing, I’ve never seen anything

Like this before.”

The girl wrapped the vine around her finger like a ring,

And said, “I wonder if you can get more.”


To this Darius laughed a hollow

laugh, Soul full of doom,

“Take it, rid me of my sorrow

The collectors will take everything soon.”
The woman smiled a wry smile, hugged

Darius and dislodged a glistening

petal. Alas, the bubblegum woman released the drug,

And ended up saying,


“Come to my flat,

We’ll get this sorted out.

I know you have your doubts,

But your collectors and I will have a little chat.”


Photo credit: Porsche Brosseau via Flickr

From the depths of nightmares I wake,

Chest aching, head ringing, feet tingling —

I can’t breathe! The world has lost color, I shake

I writhe. I—I—I need air. The bed’s too soft, standing —

Hands brace against the table, Heart —

My heart, precious muscle that pumps my life blood.

The room — It spins, swirls and crackles in black art.

Panic comes in a torrent, clashing with all senses — a flood.


Hands fumble for the latch.

Books fall, chest splits, brain’s impaired —

The result of being in a two week, stress induced rough patch.

Do I have to dial 911?

Please, I don’t want to die.

So many things I want to get done,

Especially with you by my side.

Kind, unsteady hands take me to bed.

The world continues spinning, but I cope.

Fear is blown away, breath evening, mind filled with Dread.

Feeling returns to my extremities, body is on the mend.

But I can’t play pretend,

I turn to my husband, my best friend

And ask, voice a quiver, “Will this happen again?”