A jeweler digs Through his glittering wares And desires to keep The fairest of all. His fingers Feel all their crystal faces, Attuned to every bump or blemish Like a spider's leg In perfect sync With every tremble Along its gossamer web. Yet, H finds nothing But glassy bodies Smooth as skin Shaved bare. If... Continue Reading →
Beyond the mountain pass Lies a trail bathed In milky starlight. Mossy trees Hold the road With gnarled hands Clothed in silver And green. Pretty, pink Flowers bloom at your feet. Their soft scent Tickles your tongue. You Taste neither lilac Nor lily. Death Coats every fleshy bud. You hurry Your pace. Flowers fade As... Continue Reading →
Fireflies flit Around the beckoning flames Like paper lanterns, Shimmery and gold, Floating towards the sun. You hum a labored tune Deep in your weary chest. The air is crisp, Your fingers numb. Your voice fails. Your head falls While the scorched logs Hiss, and the smoke Rises ever higher.
The lake sits quiet. Not a ripple stirs The shore. Night is a threadbare Shroud, hung loose Over the cool waters. Stars dance, And the silver moon bares A crescent smile. Scents Of mint and clove Drift on the gentlest Breeze. A single Flower blooms, Its velvet petals dark As dusk. The crickets Trill. The... Continue Reading →
I call myself a collector of sorrows. As a teen, I felt alone and ignored. My classmates bullied me, and my parents spent most of their time at work. They didn’t have the time or care to hear how Brett pushed me on the playground or how Tommy joked about my big nose. After a... Continue Reading →
The second installment of the Ashborne Chronicles is out. Get a free electronic copy this Thursday through Monday. Or start the series from the start with How Black is the Shadow. Shadows of war spread over the kingdom of Norgrad after the untimely death of its king. In the west, Vindan gathers its forces.... Continue Reading →
In my fantasy series The Ashborne Chronicles, Kat hears a song written about a king. It is a song of sorrow sung for sorrow. All who sing it find tragedy one way or another: “Though black and depthless, His eyes couldn’t hide The burning of a matchless ire. His trembling lips Called death for death. ‘Blood,’... Continue Reading →
I dreamt Of an ancient tree Stripped bare To its silver branches. Harlequin leaves Lay in clumps At its twisted roots, Whose frail tendrils Reached ever outwards. I dreamt Of an iron sun In a sky of cold steel. Ashen clouds marched In boundless, black regiments. From far off I heard the crack of thunder,... Continue Reading →