One stuporous winter, tinged with blood

You whispered my name forlornly

As the streets froze over.

I knew I only had one chance to say goodbye

But even then I could not reach for you.

The snowflakes had settled on my skin

Piled in drifts around my heart

That turned tar black

When I tried to clear them away.

Finally, the winter was showing us

what we couldn’t discover in languid summer




Another unique and beautifully written poem by Jacob Ibrag over at ‘eyes plus words’!

Eyes + Words

Written by Jacob Ibrag

Organ transplants.A frozen

space filled with refraction. We will

have lived in a moment stretched out to

its brim.Simplifying the abstract, exposing

the colors of an emotion. Rejection pills

in a world still adapting in prime.

Photography by Matthew Henry

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Coming soon!

Dear readers, Halloween is just around the corner, and I simply could not contain my joy, so I have to tell you now…. *drum roll* I have an amazing Halloween short story for you guys!!!

I’m so excited that I’d post it now, but then it wouldn’t be a Halloween story anymore : (

Anyways, now you have something to look forward to, other than lots strangely dressed children banging on your door repeatedly, threatening to chase you through the town with lit torches unless they receive candy.

I’ve also finished up the last of my short stories for my ‘three threesomes for the price of one’ book, and am sending it out to some beta readers this week. It’s been a monumentally satisfying process putting this little collection together, and I hope that the finished product will be thoroughly enjoyed by anyone who takes the chance and downloads it. I wanted each and every one of the stories to be humorous and fun (as well as weird as heck). I think that makes the perfect sort of first self-published book of short stories : )

So blessings to all of you, and check back on Halloween for some fun!


How to Sharpen the First Sentence in Every Chapter

Very good writing advice from Carolyn Dennis-Willingham!

A Writer's Path

by Carolyn Dennis-Willingham

We all know that the first sentence or two in a novel needs to, not only grab a reader’s attention, but flip them out of bed, melt them into their recliners, or make them forget the lasagna in the oven.

Like you, I’ve written so many first lines for my novels, I could add them up and the page count would be the same as the novel itself.

They, editors, agents, writing experts say:

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The Witch’s Bookshelf: Letters to my Oldest Friend by: Janavi Held (book review)

Oh it’s been soooo long since I’ve posted a book review, not that I haven’t had books to review, I’ve just been lost in my writing, head over heels. Isn’t that such a good feeling? Well I’ve shaken myself out of my own imagination long enough to review this nice little book of poetry by Janavi Held, called ‘letters to my oldest friend’.


I first read Janavi’s poetry here on her blog. One of my favorite poems of hers is Time unhinged. So I decided to spring for the book. I love supporting fellow poets whenever I can, and I’m always looking for another magical book to transport me into someone else body.

This book of poetry is paired with a lineup of beautiful black and white photos, which makes for an impressive layout. The poetry itself is carefully written out and filled with pain. It returns often to the search for the divine and the shedding of the mundane world.

I’ve become (have been for a long time) a non-deist, which means I don’t believe in any Gods/goddesses at all. It’s not solely a matter of my mind, but also my heart. So there were times when I was reading this book that I struggled to connect with the feelings. I guess those corners of my soul are cold and full of shadows of yesterday. But if you (as most people do) have any belief in the divine, whatever name it holds, then you will certainly find this book compelling and inspirational.

I hope you will mosey over to Janavi’s lovely site and read some of her wonderful poems, whether you buy her book or not. She really is, in my opinion, a very powerful poet!


Many blessings!



Blank pages

Of a blank city

Filled with blank stares

Cluttered over bus depots, and humming food hubs

A blank being coiling out into urban sprawl


Inertia is in the wind

Howling down the empty fall pavement

A sudden arresting thing

I slow my steps

And listen to the familiar sound of its’ blank lullaby


Let’s try to sleep tonight

Without twisting the sheets

A restless caffeination

A guilty stagnation

And maybe tomorrow, inertia will slip away