Poetry

Vulnerable. Poetic.

I am a writer. More precisely, I am a poet. I always have been. 11-year-old me would stay up well past lights-out hiding under a blanket with a flashlight, paper, and pen to write. My friends were all reading Tiger Beat Magazine, the Babysitter's Club series and anything by Judy Blume. I was reading Chaucer's… Continue reading Vulnerable. Poetic.

Poetry

Night Before Christmas, Texas Style

'T'were the night a'fore Christmas, when throughout the ranch, Not an oak tree was stirring, not even a branch; Our workboots were set by the fireplace with care, In hopes that Ole Santy Claus soon would appear; The kiddos were bunked-in all snug in their beds, While pictures of candy-canes two-stepped in their heads; This… Continue reading Night Before Christmas, Texas Style

Poetry, Word

King David and Stuttering Metrical Dactyls (just read)

I imagine King David, writing instrument in hand, scroll on one knee, writing furiously - trying to beat the dusk. This is when poets live - as the world falls asleep, poetic minds wake - Imagery marches down the page. Poetic hearts beat iambic pentameter, Thoughts come faster than hands can write... da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM… Continue reading King David and Stuttering Metrical Dactyls (just read)

Word

My Heart’s Overflow

Lord, I know you search me You know all my thoughts You know when I sit quietly Or when I stand up - You're there. You understand me. Close by or faraway you Reach me - You know just when I sleep Or when I'm walking, Nothing catches you by surprise. Before I begin to… Continue reading My Heart’s Overflow

family, Life Lessons, Love, Parenting, Word, Word, Truth, Life, Love

Minutes or Moments?

A new dad waiting for his first baby to be born understands the value of a minute. A new dad hearing that baby's first cry understands the value of a moment. Lately I've been pondering the difference between minutes and moments. I don't know about at your house, but at my house we seem to… Continue reading Minutes or Moments?

Love

When the Day Settles

At the end of the day you don't hear my prayers for the ones I love who are agonizing over broken hearts. At the end of the day you don't feel my tears brought on by self-inflicted wounds. At the end of the day you don't see the ring with 4 corners where the fighters… Continue reading When the Day Settles