A Break from Prose

I think a lot of people have at some point in their life written poetry. Maybe they were short rhyming couplets they composed for an English class, or perhaps they jotted down some haiku one night camping after everyone had fallen asleep and the embers crackled in the dark. Some people have secret notebooks with scattered thoughts they have compiled over the years with little order or apparent beauty. Expressing ourselves with words is such a powerful thing, but sometimes it only comes in a burst. This, for me at least, is often when poetry is birthed. I’ve rarely shared my poetry with anyone; not because I’m ashamed or embarrassed of my work, but mostly because they are often deeply personal, and I don’t really think of myself as a poet, though I’ve written many and rather love writing them. So maybe it is time to share a few.


Be it forever?

Even on the blue shores of Alaska

I think of her

Alone in the cold, with wild memories near

Her heart moves on in the wilderness

Mine stays put in the city

Beneath the golden sky and under the endless night

We stare at the same sun

We hope on the same moon

A vast lake separates us

Be it forever?

Grandpa Howdy

The tears are fleeting, the fathers speaking

In remembrance we sit, fighting feelings

Our eyes swollen, our hearts too sad

Saying bye to a grandpa, a friend, a dad.


The moon seemed eternally shy and devastatingly bright

As it peaked its forehead over the mountain peaks just to my right

It was a sight that stuck with me

A beauty indelible and awesome

Reminding me of the scared yet indestructible light within ourselves

break from prose