Fiction and Yes, Poetry

Easy to write a story that you conjure up out of your own imagination that involves car crashes or airplanes with engines on fire. Write about the interiors of people by showing - not telling - who they are? Now that requires touch. And poetry? Go ahead and take away my man-card. I don't care. Poetry is the fearless music of the heart, stripped of all pretense, flooding the mind with tears and truth.

June 12, 2019

We all deal with loss. This piece is based on a vivid memory from a long time ago. A backpacking trip to the Sierras had me thinking, without cessation, about a previous girlfriend . . . 

You Were With Me

For five days 

of impossibly blue Sierra skies,

of scalloped waves in a melting snowfield,

of the thick ribbon of fast clear water, 

you were with me.

The mountains I loved

were never part of your world. 

I climbed,

full of random...

June 12, 2019

This is "Flash Poetry" - which is defined as three lines, no more than seventeen syllables. The term "Poppy Moon" has great importance in our family. The night that my wife's father passed away, it was a full moon, and henceforth we now simply call it a "Poppy Moon". He always seem to be there during special moments . . .

Poppy Moon

Father’s passing

Proposal asked beneath

Pre-dawn greeting on her birth

June 3, 2019

This is a Shakespearean Sonnet, usually about love or anything that inspires passion. By design, it is 14 lines long, with each line having exactly 10 syllables, with a rhyming pattern of a-b-a-b, except for the last two lines, which must rhyme.

Sonnet for Allegra

Oh daughter, our one and only child,

nothing compares to the blessing you are.

 How your spirit does move, still or wild,

our gift is opened with your waking hour.

I know...

June 1, 2019

     He could hear their voices before he could see their faces. “Sir, if you can hear me, blink your eyes twice!” He wanted to blink, but he couldn’t tell if eyes were open or closed. “SIR, CAN YOU HEAR ME!” Slowly, they came into focus. Dark blue uniforms with latex gloves passing a penlight in front of his eyes. They were leaning over him, wearing headsets with thin boom microphones plastered up against their lips...

December 15, 2016

     He had been following the coastline now for almost half an hour, working the updrafts that developed on the windward side of the cliffs. Normally, he would've been a little farther inland, seeking the thermal updrafts that came from the sun beating upon the land, but today the sky held more clouds than sunlight, and those vertical rivers of lift would not be developing. The air had a feeling of reverence to it, as the sun...

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About Me

Ever since I knew what an airplane was, a pilot was all I ever wanted to be. Dreams of flying took me to Western Michigan University, where I achieved a degree in Aviation Technology and Operations. . .


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