Why I Write Short Poems

Short poems help spur my screenwriting, my dreaming, and…

Image result for mtg elf art

Why I Write Short Poems

Each word, a tooth on a key
that unlocks a shadow’s hatch
and allows an elf to escape,

a goblin, or perhaps a small troll
that dashes, between the autumn oaks,
through the ivy tangles, the tall grass,

where I am prone to drop my pen
and lend a hearty chase.

Soon, I’ll Step into the Wood

In a few moments, my son and I are taking to the wood. Here’s a quick thought before we leave.

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Soon, I’ll Step into the Wood

And, I’ll endeavor to discover
the flavor of shadows,
the type that trickle
from tall limbs
after a mist cools an afternoon’s heat.
Sweet, as a sugar powdered
on soft cookies?
Savory, a gravy, rich and dark,
garnishing my steps,
my leap from this stone to that,
as a child might leap,
under the trees,
through their shadows?
These should be questions
that puzzle us all.

Practicality and Logic

Image result for dragon rider

If one is to mount a dragon, he/she must use a proper saddle. A dragon’s scales, to the eye, seem as smooth as song, but they chafe and scrape, as gritty as a grumpy goblin. What seems rarely equates to what is. The counsel these words heft may seem silly, to those crushed by practicality and logic; yet, I’m about to fly with a dragon.

But I Can See Him

This piece simply celebrates the importance I place on one’s imagination. I truly believe it is the stuff of life.

Image result for monster under apple tree

But I Can See Him

The shade that seeps
from the apple tree’s limbs,
slicks the ground

about the fallen fruit,
clustered as forgotten toys,

is enough to hide, from blind eyes,
the ogre napping
in that nook of calm,

his sullied teeth
flecked with rot,

a pimpled chin
whiskered with hair
as thick as apple stems.

In the Village

I’m back. Usually, I post every day, but for various reasons, I’ve been able to post  as often as I am accustomed to, but, as I said, I’m back. Miss me?

I’m really not sure what I’m going to write about today. I’ll let my imagination run a bit.

Here we go!!

Image result for dungeons and dragons troll
In the Village

The trolls have begun to bungle
from beneath their bridges,
slip those shadows
where the stones are iced
with slick and chill.
They’ve uprooted trees,

licking roots as a child
savors a lolli,
and, rumor suggests,
sampled sheep,
puffy and white,
grazing where the grasses grow,

as easily as you and I
scarf a fist full
of popped corn.
The village ire is peaked.
Soon, torches will burn.
Brandished pitchforks

will prepare to poke
the beasts back,
beneath their bridges,
to snore and snot,
behaviors tolerable, expected –
they’re only trolls, you know.