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If you were to choose a tattoo for yourself, what would it be, and where would you place it? For me, I’ve already found meaning in the two tattoos gracing my fingers. One is a King of Hearts, with a crucifix at its center—a symbol of Christ’s sovereignty and sacrifice. The other simply reads “surrender.”…
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The day stretched long, yet held its grace,I toiled in fields, dirt beneath my nails a trace.My back groaned low, lifting burdens high,A job or two I sought beneath the sky. A younger me, with frustration rife,Spoke of bills, of girls, of a carless life.Gas too dear, the reason he was late,I heard his woe,…
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Give me the steel rails humming beneath, my head against the cool window, watching the rolling landscape unfold like a living movie reel. In this theater of motion, I become both scriptwriter and audience. The countryside slides by frame by frame, and I craft stories from each passing scene. A train offers a rare symphony…
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March 16, 2025—halfway through the month, and my birthday looms just weeks away. Fifty-something isn’t a number that demands a parade or a spotlight, but it’s another lap around this vast, spinning blue planet. Lately, I’ve been hearing Frank Sinatra’s I Did It My Way on the radio, its familiar notes pulling me into a…
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Luna, It’s Saturday, and my pen itches to spill a line or two,to bridge the quiet miles and catch you up on this snow-draped day.A foot of white has tumbled down, with six more inches whispering near,and Monday looms with threats of yet another heavy shroud. There’s a hush in freshly fallen snow, a tender…
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“Steps Back” (Song #2) [Verse 1]I’d take a step toward her, reaching out slow,Meeting her where she was, where she couldn’t go.The space she might’ve claimed, I stole it away,So she carved out more, stepped back to stay. From that new ground where we stood, I could see,Every move I made pushed her further from…
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Daily Prompt: A Letter to My Hundred-Year-Old Self Dearest Me, Happy Birthday! Today, you turn 100—a century of breaths, heartbeats, and steps guided by a hand greater than our own. As I sit here, almost 50 years behind you on March 10, 2025, I can only marvel at the life we’ve lived. Half a century…
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You carried wounds you never asked for,shadows that were never yours to hold.Yet, when it was your turn,you chose to fight instead of fold. No one showed you how to heal,yet you learned,through trial, through error,through nights you thought you’d break.Still, you rose. The weight of silence pressed against your throat,but you spoke.The echoes of…


