Tag: dehart

Swig   How many people live their lives balanced on cups of caffeine or, like my recently deceased uncle, fill their trailer lives with brown bottles, windows hazed over with cigarette smoking, deciding it too difficult to rise from the stained sofa, choosing old Star Trek VHS movies instead of walking into reality?

Word Bubbles Travel with me a moment into a place where our thoughts become action.  Yes, this sounds like the introduction to a 60s science fiction series.  Pardon me. There are some ideas I wish to keep secret.  They are my tangle of vines, grounding me in reality.  Reminding me that I don’t have to throat punch someone. All I […]

In the World I’m tired of the high-minded voices I know talking about not being of the world. Like, what does that really mean?  I’m the substance of this known universe. I have dirt under my nails.  I eat from the ground. Get used to it. It’s not that I disagree with their stance on life, the universe, and a […]

Most Recent   I’m making sure all is still alive.  Checking the pulse of the homepage. Routinely observing to see if the rise and fall of ideas is still in sway. I make the most of this room, circle the table, tell my little jokes, and hope that what I’m saying reaches out like a tree limb tapping or even […]

Practice Painting In my mind, it was going to be a perfect representation of the photo taken on our honeymoon. Holy statue figure, light flowing in, a bit of greenery tucked at the side, a small stone wall. But what made it to the canvas was a child’s rendering of a ghost with blots of green.  The light didn’t even […]

Not Another   Not another poem about the crunch of autumn leaves; I would stuff the leaves in my mouth, chew them, and make a collage. Not another poem about pristine snow; I’d mark it with my humanity, trying to write a sonnet in human emotion on an otherwise untouched canvas. Not another poem about the cold of reason; I […]

A Portrait of Wilbur Just as one poet once wrote about a last duchess, so did the poet write about the first Wilbur. The brown clothing, smell of moth balls, scent of age of rows of books that Wilbur rested within. You have to wonder – did he read all those books, are they in progress, or are they simply […]

I Want to Be in a Comic Book From the flashing pages of my youth, I have wanted to be in a comic book. I designed my suit, considered my powers and weapons.  I imagined a damsel in distress. Even thought of my perfect lair. On my swing set, I would consider this universe of my making. I set about […]

Persona non Grata   To the not good enough comments, I say, psshhhhhh. That was last week, a hundred years ago.  Easily. I’m flushing, rinsing down the last backwash of badly- formed words. This week is triumph, so don’t mind that shadow you noticed last week.  He has bloomed like a perrenial and will be back soon.  

The Complication Slide in Problem #1 since the story’s going too easily, way too well It’s a complication just created around the second act, since the author did not realize the story was so simple A bit of a bad baron dropped in from the sky, as in: Why should she be attracted to him? But it will propel us […]