Premonition “Once you can name something, you’re conscious of it. You have power over it. You’re in control. You own it.” – Robin P. Williams, author Of the forming crystal we must never speak. Something resides at distant congregation of… Continue Reading →
Thanksgiving Laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite, pumpkin pie crowned in whipped cream, aunts and uncles linger, trade stories, fresh baked comfort hangs in the air. A cousin complements the cook on the giblet dressing and sweet… Continue Reading →
American Crossroads For nothing now can ever come to any good, now that justice is dead, swept from the stage of this farce we call America, where manhood is white and carries a gun fired in rage, where guilt is… Continue Reading →
Prisoner Their eyes, a torture of unendurable beauty, ravish with sidelong glances, promise more than can ever be consummated. Flame to my moth, they burn away oxygen, mock the inspiration of my lungs, allow only an eternal sigh. Their eyes… Continue Reading →
Billie Here is a strange and bitter crop – macabre scene of hanging black bodies, ghosts roused by sultry lament to hushed silence of offended pale faces come to be entertained, not embarrassed. Hers a voice that knew bitterness. Long… Continue Reading →
Happiness It asked a crumb of me and nothing more. Even that I could not give. Joe’s value wanes once cellophane is stripped, scotch tape cut, cardboard lid pried open, and he becomes a GI maimed in the sandbox wars… Continue Reading →
The veil shall be lifted – nevermore! Forever the bride on cusp of matrimony caught in nervous pause before “I do” when love’s confidence crashes headlong with reality’s fear. Promises of happiness and better times – empty as the local… Continue Reading →
Can it be that Which sets us free is what we fear most? We demand the right to do as we please, no matter if it pleases no one else. To ridicule deformed bodies; invent our own reality when facts… Continue Reading →
Let’s Make a Deal The door of compassion is ours if we wish to keep it – or do we want door #2 instead? Monty Hall wants to know. We come costumed to deal, would-be saints wield holy books, old… Continue Reading →
Writer’s Block, or On Being Indecisive And Fearful When It Comes To Just About Everything So I just listened, my pen in the air, for the muse to speak from silence. A character in a movie once proclaimed “the poem… Continue Reading →
© 2025 The Timid Poet — Powered by WordPress
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑