Slam Poetry: Resurrection
Wandering blind with no direction, too long you’ve been injecting rejection into my thoughts—correction—my heart….
Wandering blind with no direction, too long you’ve been injecting rejection into my thoughts—correction—my heart….
It’s not enough. There is nothing in this world I could give you to fill the abyss of your suffering. It’s like trying to fill a hole to the center of the earth….
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to meet the character you’d created in a story? Addie is about to find out.
Ancient river curls like a snake unfurling in the morning sun. The fallen angel kneels in silt and strokes quilted reflections….
I have to say the hardest part of writing a novel is not, actually, writing your novel. It’s editing it.
I dwell in the dark. Art is for admiration; no one cares for a blank canvas.
I am in no way implying that depression is necessary or encouraged in any way….
A wood of gold where winds whisper tales ne’er told of young and old. I stand alone. A fork has stopped my wandering feet….
This was the very first “book” I ever wrote, published in my first grade enrichment class. Allow me to introduce you to Spotty….
Writing is a solitary endeavor. That makes the decision to publish all the more daunting.