Platform Dillusions

Sweat slips down my chest.
The saunas heat swaddles meー
I dream amidst snow.

Thoughts while waiting for the train last night. Inspired by Ronovan Writes weekly Haiku Challenge: Sweat and Heat.

Cheers to the approaching end of winter!

Winter Rain

Steady rain blankets the plaza
And shrouds late afternoon with early night.
A torrential downpour of fine droplets
That deceptively make no sound
Above the wind of the winter typhoon.
Only the plod of boots is heard
As they splash through frigid puddles.

The eyes of gods’ down trodden faces
Hover over their soaked leather soles,
Watching the light of street lamps
Dance through the watery explosions
Of each booming step.

Shoulders, as hunched as they are wet,
Desperately cling to the ear lobes
Of the now neck-less masses
Holding on to the remnants of heat
Yet to be drained away by the dreary winter storm.

Why I Play

The sonorous roar of the packed crowd reverberated through the soft koa wood of my guitar, harmonizing, amplifying, and prolonging the death of the final G still bravely holding its ground in the trenches of the third.

The reinforcement of voices wasn’t in time to save the note—who died glorious and pure—and I found myself caught on the banks of an emotional stream whose dam had suddenly, and violently, broke.

The warm spotlight left me with a final, radiant embrace as the house lights came up and I saw no more than a handful of close friends crammed into the shitty dive bar, cheering louder than Madison Square Garden at capacity.

Written for Week 55 of Three Line Tales. It’s been a while, but it’s nice to be back! please leave a like and a comment if you’re so inclined!

Photo by Edwin Andrade

For a similar flash fiction piece I wrote last year, check out Christmas Eve Concert

The Man Across the Street

The other day I saw a man.

He was walking across the street and a few paces ahead of me, such that his face was shielded from my gaze. I wasn’t sure why, but something about the man attracted my wandering eyes. In voyeur, I viewed him at a distance. Read more

Out of Reach

Standing before me,
Your blue eyes pierce my sad soul,
While mine decieve me.

I reach out, but you are smoke
Fading faster with each swipe.

It’s been a while (far too long)! This tanka was written for RonovanWrites Week 136: Eye and Fade. Please read and comment! And don’t forget to check out the other wonderful writings from this week.

White Morning Silhouettes

Ahead, three bikes roll.
Slowly they trudge through the snow
Against the blizzard.

Credit to IceColdChiliPeppers for this great piece. Take some time and think about the actions of our President in his first week (because I’m not sure he’s seriously contemplated his actions yet).

Only one week into the presidency of Donald J. Trump, the United States is already seemingly barreling down an extremely dangerous path. Given the actions taken by this administration, I believe th…

Source: Why the Trump Presidency Terrifies Me

For Grandma

I had planned to write this a long time ago. Alas, the shorter days of December have done nothing to alleviate my agenda. So now, with the salty taste of tears on my lips, I am finally getting to something I should have never delayed.

Today, the world grew a little darker when an exceptionally brilliant light was extinguished. For nearly a century the light of my Grandmother’s love filled the world around her. It came to life before females could legally vote, and continued to blaze through the Roaring Twenties, the Great Depression, World War II, the Cold War, Vietnam, the Civil Rights Movement, the dawn of the internet, selfies, and the first black president.

It’s truly amazing what her little light has shone through. It has flickered through some of the best and worst times in history. Yet through it all, her light remained too bright for just one candle. She kindled the flame of a beautiful family. The home she kept and her three amazing children are a testament to the power and influence of my grandmother’s love. Though they may be drastically different people–whether it is the free-spirited passion of my aunt, the loyalty and fortitude of my uncle, or the mindful caring of my mother–Bertha Storey’s love shines through each of her children. It lives on in them, and continues to kindle the flames of an ever growing family. Grandma’s light, radiant and warm, nurtured her three wonderful children, who in turn have spread their light on, to the next generation.

This thought makes me realize that the light of Bertha Storey has not left this world. In the last several weeks, it consistently pained me to say, “Goodbye,” to end each conversation with her on the phone. Alas, the pitfalls of language hindered me from expressing my true feelings of thanks, and my understanding that our conversation will never end; I can see and hear my grandma in the idiosyncrasies of my mother every day; I can talk to her whenever I need to.

Bertha Storey’s candle has lit those of countless others, while never diminishing in brightness. She was like a buddha, in her understanding that, “Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the single candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” Until the very end, with each life she touched, she gave the full force of her love and compassion, and her light spread. Now, the source of her love may have gone, but her flame still burns strong in the collective lives of the ones she left behind.

Today the world grew a little darker than it was yesterday, but it is still infinitely brighter than before my grandmother’s flame first came to life nearly a century ago. And thanks to her, the world will continue to grow brighter as her flame spreads from her children, to her grandchildren, and beyond. I will nurture her tender flame in the hopes that it will guide me in times of darkness and that I will be able to leave the world a little brighter—as she did.

I will not say, “goodbye,” because she is still burning in each of us lucky enough to have known her. It is comforting to know, all we need to do is look inside to find my Grandma’s warm smile, hearty laugh, and sharp wit. She is not gone, so I will not say, “farewell.” Today I will only say, “Thank you,Grandma, for the gift of your undying love.”

Weekly Haiku Challenge: Sing & Gold

A gold coin spinning,
Singing the tune of business,
Rings the profit bell. Read more


Photo by Sandis Helvigs

Like a falling leaf,
Floating down my trunk
In hypnotic, looping swirls,
Filling my world of cold and decay
With your brilliant ballet of gold,
You made me forget
What becomes of a fallen leaf,
And the tree it leaves
Shivering in the cold. Read more