In the beginning when god created the heavens and earth He created the living things which walk this earth But what if each creature was molded like clay The creatures of the deep, before taking their plunge into the kiln of the ocean, Were created to perfection by his hands Like clay of a sculpture,

He places the moldable mass in front of him And lets instinct guide him He gave them fins for ...

The birds crow a weeping melody Trees clean of leaves The air filled with a smoky stream Somewhere a fire burns One fairly close to me

The smoky scent fills my nose And burns my throat Making me feel a pressure in my lungs I feel bad for the life here that grows Because these dry trees and rotten leaves will only promote The raging fire that has sprung

I can walk away Let the burn fade from m...

Early one morning The fog surrounds me A hazy veil Like a cool cloth laying over the hard ground The air is soft and wet The fog blurs the normal scenery If the fog can hide what is there How do we know it still is there? Do we assume it has not moved? Perhaps we move gently through the fog Letting it caress our skin Perhaps we feel for those objects Which should be there

Or maybe Fog tells us s...

The last time I cried, I had fallen on concrete and scraped my leg. The tears pricked my eyes and embarrassment knawed on my heart. My grandfather made his way over to me and lifted my chin. I expected comfort and tenderness. I wanted comfort and stability. But I got disappointment and rage. My grandfather lifted my chin, looked me in the eye and told me as a young boy and asked me if I want to be...

Sugar

My papaw always hoarded three musketeer bars The silver packaging glinting in his dresser The way his eyes sparkled when he saw us I have always had an insatiable hunger for candy The sugar  a poison I can’t get enough of How my papaw would pick me up Swing me around, my giggles crackling in the air Give papaw some sugar I would plant a kiss on his cheek between fits of laughter If he had...

Chapter 1- Once Upon A Time “I need a red velvet pastry from the back!” my mother shouts to me. I toss my hands together, trying to shake off some of the excess flour that has crusted up as I was working. I quickly shuffle over to the sink and wash away the rest. Even in the back of the shop, I can hear the soft sounds of people speaking from the counter. I can make out the timbre of my mother's ...