Samuel Moniker

Here to improve. Honesty, please. Criticism is welcome. Changed names on here a lot. Just bored with monikers.

292

Writings

100

Followers

Following

Samuel Moniker

Here to improve. Honesty, please. Criticism is welcome. Changed names on here a lot. Just bored with monikers.

292

Writings

100

Followers

Following

Warmth In The Ice

Samuel Moniker

1 min read

Writing on theme. 4 poems.

1) A Path Through Snow

I pushed my way across the field of snow

but found the path as if I never crossed.

The trees adorned with white and icy clothes

all lost in season’s cold about the frost.

And still, I wait to see the wrong I did

as though the snow will prove the lie in me.

And yet, I see that no one ever saw

the path that was left for me.

No one left a shovel

o...

Poetry

“…and all they could do was cry.”

Samuel Moniker

2 min read

One way to use a prompt. 4 stories.

1) The Return

Danielle came home—skinnier than ever with her jeans torn, her blouse stained from blood and dirt, and a scar on her hip. Later, her mother would ask about the scar, but Danielle would never give her an answer.

None of that mattered now. Danielle was alive, and all they could do was cry.

2) The Run Away

The white death came on without warning....

Undead Notes

Samuel Moniker

1 min read

July 8th, 5:01 AM

Hissing and screaming,

They bring her to the barred cell

and give her a shot.

(He says to me: “Don’t look her in the eyes without these.”)

July 8th, 7:53 AM

Her heart does not beat,

with ivory skin—blue eyes,

I would not have known.

(He says: “Keep her chained to the bed, she’s strong, but not steel strong.”)

July 8th, 11:53 AM

She wakes up all tired,

Puts her hand on her ...

Horror

Poem: Life is like a sharp stick

Samuel Moniker

1 min read

Life is like a sharp stick placed to your rear,

poking the cheeks when you want to stop. Time does not stop. Time will not stop. Does the stick leave you dripping red?

The stick sits firmly behind us, making us keep pace, tiring us as it marches us across a desert—the sand burns our feet, the sun braises our skin, and the dry air parches our throat.

We walk toward an oasis of trees whose locatio...

Poetry

I Love You

Samuel Moniker

1 min read

How many times

will

I say it?

At least once more—

after each time—

I say it will do,

Because saying it once

readies the next time

to be said anew.

And since I will

then say, “I love you,”

forevermore,

I’m afraid I’ll say it

to you more than anything

I have or will have thought

to say before....

Poetry

Lying To Children : The Misguided S.O.C.

Samuel Moniker

1 min read

A younger me, at a — time

when the song I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus played, always thought of how silly the idea was.

A time when a child woke to find their parents lip-locked in the living room, their father dressed in a Santa Claus outfit; their mother kissing her husband through a fake beard.

And at the same time, it’s reminiscent of childhood — of how we don’t know the truth because of s...

Pure Peace

Samuel Moniker

1 min read

Yin wakes up

to find Yang missing.

He wonders the woods,

climbs the mountains,

and searches the skies.

He comes back

to nothing,

and then notices

a little piece of himself gone. ☯️...

Poetry

Secret Curriculums

Samuel Moniker

3 min read

A school yard teaches lessons beyond reading, writing, and arithmetic, especially to those little boys inclined to copy the hardened heroes they see on TV. And no, not your average chosen hero who arrives at the last possible second, but the tried and true boys in blue. Cops. Robbers. The good, the bad, and the indifferent.

That’s where Humming decided to play a little game with a kid who had a p...

Transcription In Clay

Samuel Moniker

1 min read

Erstin’s fingers worked the clay as he wrote letters in the five lined alphabet of his people. They shook so bad he kept stopping. His eyes set hard on the clay. Jakestin came in behind him, but he ignored her presence.

“Erstin, you’ve been at that for hours.”

“And it’s been the best time of my life. Now, don’t bother me.”

“When are you going to stop?”

“When I figure out what happens next.”

S...

Grandma’s “Cookie” Jar

Samuel Moniker

1 min read

Cookie jar

Cookie jar,

The treats are gone.

Cookie jar

Cookie jar,

Where have you gone?

Cookie jar

Cookie jar,

Something’s really wrong.

Cookie jar

Cookie jar,

Grandpa’s urn was gone....

Poetry