Tag: creative writing

Nobody’s Poet

I lived as Hemingway, writing and drinking
with cats around me.
I’ve sobered and said my, “Farewell to Arms.”
What? Were you expecting, “The old man and the sea?

I was paranoid like Poe, always looking over my shoulder—
and over the facade I wore.
Finding tragedy in beauty, I wrote, and I wrote—
embracing this, “Nevermore.”

I’ve traveled like Twain,
only to stop a few years later.
Sounding artsy to impress the masses,
which came from a guy who tripped over the equator.

I went silent like Frost, my hand interpreting
the voice in my head.
Deciphering things around us, simple and complex,
became the path I chose instead.

I’ve lived the dreams of others, perhaps I found my calling
and didn’t know it.
For now and until we meet again

Forever yours,

Nobody’s Poet.


This is a throwback poem from my first blog. Hope you enjoy it!

A warm December

Silent as December snow,

her shadowy landscape

rests at my side.

Chaotic fingers ease themselves,

not to keep her from her dreams.

Watching her nap in sunlight

makes for a warm December.


This, ladies and gentlemen, is Ms. Momo. She crowned herself as my writing cat. Normally, she prefers sleeping in the closet but when I write by the window, she likes to keep me company. When I’m stuck on an idea, we brainstorm together while looking out for snow…our favorite past time.

She is also one of three Beings I answer to… (she just woke up and saw I was writing about her)

Malt Shop Memories

Remember then
Donna
A thousand miles away

Earth angel
I only have eyes for you
Only you and you alone.       

Why do fools fall in love
Under the boardwalk
In the still of the night

There goes my baby
A teenager in love
The wanderer

Since I don’t have you
Mr. Postman
Save the last dance for me.


I absolutely love Doo Wop and Oldies music. So, I wanted to share an experiment with you. Each line is a song title (if you don’t already know) and making them into a poem. If anything, at least you know some of my favorite songs!

Uncharted Course

When the boatman’s bell tolls
I must answer the call.
The crew, one by one, crossing that brow alone.
The colors of constellations
will remain at half-mast for now.
With an uncharted course set,
a prayer will be enough to help guide us out.
Where we are going
no angels will greet us.
Instead,
we will be welcomed by the songs of sirens
behind a veil of salt spray.
With Poseidon’s back turned,
I can enjoy one last affair with the sea.
Carrying only her scent,
I can set off to another foreign shore,
calling it home.