Tag Archives: writing

An Update

Hello my few fans,

I’m sorry I have not posted anything in such a long while. I’ve been very busy.

Firstly, I got a job at McDonalds at the beginning of the year. Its been going okay. Its not a career, but it helps me buy diapers for my son.

Second, I found out that I’m pregnant again. Hopefully a little girl this time. I had a trip to the hospital because of severe abdominal pains, and the cause was a combination of dehydration and the discomforts of pregnancy. I’m all right, but now I’m drinking more water, and thus visiting the bathroom more often.

Third, I’ve signed up for another anthology, deadline in December. 10K words to write. I’m a little nervous. I might make it a month goal. Like camp nano, only on my own. I might post my daily word count for that story. Maybe.

Fourth, I’ve applied for the associate editor position at The Sun Magazine. I haven’t heard anything yet, but I’m hoping to. Its going to be a great work for me. Plus, I could do the editing from home here in Virginia. Wish me luck.

Fifth, I’m working on my novel, which is taking a while. Plus the second edition of Murder by the Letters has to be prepared. I have to find stock image to send to the cover designer, and prepare everything so its ready come October when all the stories come in.

Lastly, I’ve been binge watching Call the Midwife, series four. I can’t help it. Plus, father’s day and anniversary shopping.

Thank you for reading.


Writing Update

I’m working on editing a play I wrote some years ago based and inspired by Alice in Wonderland. A theatre friend of mine loved it, so, I guess that I’ll get it edited, possibly published, and maybe offer it for free in a pdf format to college students for their thesis plays. Maybe. What do you guys think?


Doll Maker now on Barnes and Noble

My book of poetry, “Doll Maker” is now on the Barnes and Noble website.

 

 "Doll Maker" front cover"Doll Maker" back cover

The Doll Maker is taking women off the street and turning them into dolls before killing them. Will he be caught?

 

You can find it here.

It is also on CreateSpace, Amazon in paperback and on KindlePowell’s Books, and on ebay.

 

My second book of poetry, “Duskhouse Player” is available on Amazon as a paperback and Kindle.

 

"Duskhouse Player" Paperback cover "Duskhouse Player" Kindle Cover

Life is a series of random events laid out by Fate. Poetry is the paintings of her face. Duskhouse Player takes the random parts of life and pulls them out of a hat to give you a different experience in poetry. Its joyful and sorrowful.


Duskhouse Player

My second book of poetry, Duskhouse Player, has been published through Amazon.

 

 

 

Life is a series of random events laid out by Fate. Poetry is the paintings of her face. Duskhouse Player takes the random parts of life and pulls them out of a hat to give you a different experience in poetry. Its joyful and sorrowful.

 

Purchase the Kindle edition here, and the paperback edition here.

 

 

 


End

The books pile high
and the military
becomes the police force.
Torches in every man’s hand.
I hide, watching.

Skyscrapers once reached
to the heaven.
Now, they are crumbled.
Pictures, not withstanding,
no one remembers.

With no choice, but survival
they turn to him,
the man with the torch,
setting the books on fire.
I watched.


Summerland

Hell is a place for the Christians

after death. That is not my home.

 

My body will lay among

the roots of the fields,

which will grip my flesh,

and worms will break my body apart.

 

My soul will see no fire.

 

Flames cannot harm me,

because I do not believe

in a place where you are punished

for mistakes you are supposed

to learn from.

 

A scatting will let

me pass through

the veil,

 

where I will learn my lesson,

and be reborn.


Untitled

I wish there

had been a physical

slap across my face

 

Don’t talk to your Nana

that way! She’s not a dog.

 

Then what am I?

 

A physical pain

assaults me when the shout

comes without warning.

 

If you break that dryer,

you’ll be sorry.

 

I already wished

I wasn’t born.

 


Nest

There once had been nothing

beneath black wings,

flapping with all my might.

No wind today.

 

An egg lays ready to hatch,

but ruffled feathers

have been plucked before

it arrived. No wind, still.

 

When the shell cracks

and falls apart, squished

face has green eyes blinking

against the harsh light

 

and the beak-mouth opens

wide. Shrieks call out. Breeze.

The larger beak-mouth could

not reach for wailing

 

chick, numbed from surgery

and drugs. The one whose movements

were not hindered reached

for the fluff. There is wind today.


Untitled

The breeze ruffles my hair
like an older sibling,
trying to tease.
The trees dance with leaves,
flitting around on their stems.

Petals from the Sakuras
land at my feet. They
are the rain. I see
why they are honored
every year in Japan.

The snows have passed
away from bright,
yellow light that burns
my eyeballs. I can’t see
the pink downpour.

The Cherry blossom trees’
flowers are gone,
proof that Spring
has come to Roanoke.
Weather be damned.


After Jason Todd

Nice family.

Fixin’ a pie.

All Mistah J

 

and I wanted.

B-man ruined it.

Puddin’s dead.

 

I had to run

for it, escaping

the flames.

 

Lived in hiding,

keeping away

from B-man,

 

had a girl

in a pretty

pink crib.

 

She grew up,

gave me granddaughters,

the Dee Dees.

 

Troubling duo,

twins in the fights,

always in jail.