Inspiration doesn't always come in chronological order.
A poem must be authentic. It could be flowery, it could have the most brilliant metaphor, it could be bursting with onomatopoeia and alliteration, assonance and consonance, hyperbole and paradox, from...
The only way that your work will truly find an audience is if it is genuine.
Battle scars were not a commodity that I was accustomed to selling, least of all to myself.
Rebecca, we live in a world where darkness seems, in the minds of many, something banished to the world of fairy tales and superhero movies. How surprising it then becomes—even for those of us who bel...
Maturity is so often considered to be synonymous with ‘adult.’ But I truly feel that maturity may be defined by the ability to be both an adult and a child.
Can a rose survive in winter?
Many a year I told her tales. And then the time came for me to watch. And watch I have.
Raindrops lingered in a melody of remembrance cast from the heavens above as I myself cast aside the dryness of the present day.
Caution: Danger ahead. Do not refer to Adriana as little in regards to either her age or stature. If you happen to disregard this most basic of laws, approach with caution. Much, much caution.
The starry night sky echoed across my thoughts, the expanse of my own void filtered in its quiet solitude.
I would travel far and wide...seeing, listening, creating. I would weave tales for an enthralled audience. A song would be heard throughout the kingdom, and I would be a part of that. You would normal...
Like dandelions they flew across the expanse Of desert calm without advance They filtered through the stilled “become” Returning to the land they knew. They knew no more than where they flew. And so t...
You were...are...what I heard. Every note.
No magnetic wombats, no flying hyenas, no catfish masquerading as samurai, and, MOST CERTAINLY, no Duku jam!
The last time I checked, I wasn’t the one who tripped over a glass container of sugar that I had myself dropped... after, of course, having received several bruises from an attempt to retrieve a flip-...
That,” Adriana said, “is a puzzling mystery that must be solved.
The luminescent flow of a sunbathed garden— illuminating the shifting colors of its inhabitants— echoed in my memory as I opened the antique bookstore door in the shaft of window light. The books, lik...
Or, maybe what really mattered was that game of Crazy 8s.
And the shower of roses spun around me, inviting me to take part in their ever-present waltz.
