Going Nowhere

Silver and Black Digital Alarm Clock on Table
Photo by Burst via Pexels

Time doesn’t stand still for me. I beg it sometimes. My plea goes unheard. A faint whisper greets my ear, “What are you so afraid of”? I respond, “Now? Everything.”

Time cocks its head back & laughs. It gathers data on me and maintains its surveillance.

I’m free to go nowhere.


Originally shared via Twitter.

The Luring Scent of Fudge Brownies

Flash Fiction

A fresh batch of brownies lay on the counter. We sniff the luring scent, slip on our clothes, and rush down the stairs. I’ve got my heart set on the two middle brownies & my sister craves two from the corners. She’s eager to dash from the entrance of our kitchen to the sweet smell of love and hard work.

Our mom outdid herself this time. We both knew it. The fresh scent travels throughout our home and wafts around every corner of every room. My sister looks at me, I look at her — hesitantly; we measure each other up — lingering in our newfound glory. I nod my head toward her and watch her cherub-like face light up. That’s her cue to take a bite.

We sink our teeth into the gooey goodness of chocolate. Every morsel melts in our mouths — we land on a small slice of heaven. The brownies are both chewy and moist and filled with everything we could have possibly dreamed up if anyone were to ask us.

We take another bite in unison — fudge drips on to our fingers. I lick remnants of evidence from my hands and advise my kid sister to do the same. There’s no hiding the fact that we’ve had our share of this exquisite dessert and we will not deny it if asked, but . . .

How could anyone ignore the luring scent of fudge brownies?


*This began as a response to a Twitter BraveWrite prompt. The prompt word was batch. I liked this so much, I decided to expound on it here.


Originally published in The Weekly Knob via Medium.

we should know, though. shouldn’t we?

people walking on street during daytime
Photo by Clay Banks via Unsplash

we should know, shouldn’t
feel the ache in our
hearts–our bones brittling,
cracking with each pace

this is America
land of the beaten
home of the
lied to & ostracized
bent over & bastardized

it is the #habit of this place
to eat its young
before disowning it


Originally posted via Twitter as a response to the VSSPoem prompt.

the gifted boy and loves past

A Rapid Rhyme

boy in black jacket holding camera
Photo by Zahra Amiri via Unsplash

A Rapid Rhyme Audio Poem

The gifted boy chose his chore,
an invitation to toy with others
who bore the pain
from life’s insane paths

a kid big on master plans
he demands the same treatment
& has no fans
in his misty eyes,
he holds the cries
of loves past

too many to name,
none of them would last


Originally published via Twitter as an experiment. This is the last Rapid Rhyme poem I will do for a while. I have had so much fun doing these! Thanks again Peter for the inspiration!