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Ashes In Drury Lane
This poem tumbles through a surreal nursery, where idioms curdle and lullabies unravel. A fair lady shapes gold from dust, the Muffin Man kindles fire instead of flour, and flying pigs signal impossible beginnings. What starts in whimsy ends in quiet ruin—a cradle of contradictions where even patty cakes fall. Here, the rhythm is real,…
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The burden of Shame
Some pain is too raw for casual retelling. A few weeks ago, my son sent a short text saying he was ending our relationship and needed time to heal. No explanations—just silence. In that quiet, I imagined what his heart might’ve said if it hadn’t sealed shut. This poem is my interpretation of that silence—not…
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Ballad of the Quiet Evening
Sometimes the hardest truth comes not from others, but from within. My husband is facing the painful reality that his father—once admired—was emotionally abusive, and he’s seen those same patterns in himself. It’s been raw, but he’s met it with courage and tears. Last night, we watched the sun set in silence. That quiet moment…
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I Was Not the Storm That Broke Us Down
Traditionally, haiku include a seasonal word (kigo) and reflect on nature or a fleeting moment. Mine stray from that path—not rooted in blossoms or moonlight, but in the raw season of survival. These verses speak to overcoming, to resisting the pull of the crystal ball of alcoholism. It’s a different kind of nature—one shaped by…
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The Tree That Grew Anyway
This piece is for those who grew up without safety—not nurtured, but surviving. The Tree That Grew Anyway is a metaphor for endurance, for growing in hostile soil, and for becoming something whole despite the scars. It speaks to the ones shaped by pain, by the silence of support that never came, and the confusion…
Echoes In The Current 