Secret Stash-Ideas for Writing # 1
Make Way!
Even the clock holds its breath
in my moment of freedom.
The horn cracks the hot air,
and as I dive in, cold fire
wraps around my skin.
Each stroke pulls me closer to
something I have never touched.
Reality blurs into silence.
Lungs burning, heart pounding like
my life depends on it.
My body refusing to let go of the
fear, it fuels me.
I break through the door.
Poem Exercise #1
half-hearted
I like being kind in the way that
costs nothing—
I offer my smile as if it were bread,
baked warm and handed to you without
expecting return.
But stillness grates against me.
The dragging minutes, the swelling
silence, I demand patience!
My fingers drum the table, counting
each tick of the maddening clock.
My heart rattling against my chest
like someone is trying to break out from within!
My last ounce of courage shrivels into
a whisper, never quite crossing my lips.
How can I offer kindness with one hand
while the other trembles behind my back?
Poem # 2 (Every Day poem)
Pulsation
I listen.
Words cut like steel through the air.
Drums hammering my body, the sticks
slamming on my ears.
I follow each note as if I am tracing
a river.
Every note a fracture.
Every note a scar.
I surrender to the storm,
and the storm owns me.
A Picture is Worth a Trillion Dollar$ Poem
seasons’ threshold
The water lies still,
a pale mirror watching
the sky’s slow dissolving.
Trees lean,
burning with autumn,
holding shadows that
are deep and bottomless.
A fallen trunk is stretched
across the silence,
not as a barrier,
but a marker for where the world bends.
Not yet winter.
Not yet summer.
Nothing asks to be hurried.
Ideas for Writing # 6
unbroken trustworthy
Beauty draws attention
but it does not promise safety.
Every smile rehearsed
Every gentle hand begging
Trust becomes a puzzle with
missing pieces.
It only sharpens the question:
Who means their words,
and who hides a blade behind them?
Beautiful people never know who to trust.
Ideas for Writing # 3
Like Insects
It is like walking into a hive,
every voice buzzing,
the air thick with wings.
Like larvae curled under the skin of silence
their stares burrowed, feeding on my gaze
soft, blind, persistent.
Like beetles overturned
I kicked at explanations
legs failing without traction
Like a moth trapped in a jar,
I beat against the glass of their words,
Like ants spilling from a broken nest,
my thoughts scattered, frantic,
And when it ended,
I was a husk on the pavement—
emptied, brittle,
still humming with what had passed through.
Free Poems
unknown waters
Silent river flows,
into the vast endless sea
no one knows the shore
Hollow Hands
Evil is not a flash or a scream
It is the slow erosion of flesh into thought
The taste of iron in the mouth before the act
It seeps into sleep
Crushing the ribs
It is the weight in the stomach when kindness is offered
the recoil at empathy
a hunger that whispers it was always yours to claim
It aches of pride
Tastes of envy
Coils in lust like a serpent
It is the weight of gluttony,
sleeping slothfully in the corner of your heart,
multiplying in greed
An echo of sin
“Bad things happen when good people pretend nothing is wrong“
-Corey Taylor
Free Verse Rhyming Poem (ABCA/DEFD)
how the frost whispers into your ear
The husk of night lays silver air
As rooftops fade in drifting white,
Bare branches bow without sound,
while snow reclaims the world in care.
Each breath becomes a fragile ghost,
frosted panes hold fragile light
Footsteps vanish where dreams have been,
and silence stands its watch the most.
Anniversary Poem
under a tree
Have you gone mad?
She sits there, blind
to your love
How desperate are you?
She is a tree while
you are just a mere root
Do you really believe she
would notice an ugly duckling,
a swan shrouded in the leaves
of her tree?
Dream Poem
I Forgot My Dream, It Waterboarded Itself
I dreamed of water rising in my room,
quiet, patient,
slight ripples at the edges of the bed.
It climbed the dresser drawers,
drowned the clock,
blurred the photographs into pale ghosts of faces
I almost recognized.
When I stood,
the surface held still—
so still it felt alive,
listening.
Then it began to move,
slowly lifting my reflection
until it leaned down from the ceiling,
its mouth where mine should be,
smiling as if it knew
how long I’ve been waiting
to breathe beneath it.
Suppose Poem
Suppose
Suppose you wake to find the moon
tucked under your arm,
whispering a language
you almost remember.
Suppose the stars have moved into your kitchen,
spinning slowly in jars,
your shadow drifting across the floor
writing letters that curl like comets.
Suppose one word glows bright enough
to life you from your chair,
through corridors of planets
that hum with history.
Taking notes is impossible—
the ink runs like starlight
and the sentences stretch into constellations
So, suppose you let your hand
follow the orbit
as the universe folds itself gently
upon your quiet face.
Free Poem #3
Rising smoke, Rising men
Ash and sand cling to lungs
The Mount looms,
a black tooth against a gray sky.
The mud swallows boots and blood,
flags curl in the wind, their cloth
heavy with courage,
stained with every fallen soul.
Every breath is a prayer,
even when their rifles are
heavier than the hope they
wish to carry.
For the Sleepwalkers Poem
ode to slugs
Praise be to the slug,
the slow traveler of wet earth,
the belly-brushed witness to rain,
to leaves fallen like soft sighs.
No one sings of you,
yet you etch your signature anyway.
Here is what I dare:
sometimes, the moon is just a sloppy pancake
flipped in the sky by a sleepy god,
and slugs, armored in mucus, are the only diners patient enough
to taste it fully without demand.
Return, gentle slug!
you teach us speed is a vanity,
that we have forgot our grace,
the art of yielding with collapse,
that you are able to do in
every slick, trembling inch.
American Burying Beetle Poem
A Light That Shouldn’t Be
She lives where sunlight dies—
a mile of water above her head
but alas, the sea cannot crush her.
Her spine juts from her brow,
tipped with a glow,
a trick of bacteria,
a promise to the blind.
She waits motionless.
The water holds its breath.
Jaws snap, turning prey
into a silent bloom of bones.
Down there,
even shadows drown,
but her lantern keeps breathing.
Letter Poem
Peanuts
Dear Charlie Brown,
Do you remember the summer that never ended?
When the days were stitched together with sunburns
Like time couldn’t touch us,
the hot pavement sizzling beneath our feet,
music leaking from someone’s open window.
Now the songs sound smaller.
The pavement’s cracked.
Time flows through us.
Maybe that’s what growing up does—
turns memories into echoes,
echoes into dreams,
dreams into goals—
either blooming across the river like lily pads
or crashing deep into the fiery flames of the sun
while your aspirations bleed gold.
Free Poem #4
thread of light
a bee hovers at the edge of a thistle,
her body furred with sunlight,
each bit of pollen vibrating against her wings
the flower bends under her weight,
petals trembling,
pollen lifting in a faint, golden cloud.
you can almost hear the field buzzing
in the quiet between wingbeats,
her small shadow carrying
the grain of her future kin.
Emergence Poem
Not Every Spider Climbs A Waterspout
If you have seen a spider weave its web,
Each strand pin-pointed into place
Spun around a limp, soft branch
Its tender legs fluttering all over
And after some time you see it,
the glossy tint glowing
in the moonlight
Until a breeze blows it all away,
leaving the spider to start again.
