Endure (A Poem)

You fall, crashing hard on your knees, scraping them and making them bleed. And a part of you, that tiny voice that asks you in a dark, condescending voice: What’s the point? Does it matter if you fail? You fail all the time.

It’s so much easier to give up than it is to try. But you must endure.

Imagine who you will become.

If you lay there, letting the blood from your knees stain the concrete, you have let all the nah-sayers win. Don’t let them.

You fall.

You stand back up, wipe your brow, and you try again. Raise up your fists to the nay-sayers and the non-believers. Because the only one who can determine if you can do this.

Is you.



Thirst (A Poem)


I am parched

Dry, chapped lips

No one wants to kiss

Throat dried up and dusty

No matter how much I clear it

Nothing changes

I drink and drink

But water does not soothe

It only makes it worse

The thirst is there still

Aching and wanting


I am so parched

Aching and wanting

I scoop the cool liquid into my hand

bringing it to my mouth

Sipping desperately


I could drink the Atlantic Ocean

But it wouldn’t be enough

To get rid of the taste of you

That wretched taste

of salt and rust

Like when you bite your lip

and the blood gets into your mouth

That horrid taste

It makes me gag

My throat closes up

And I try to drown out the taste

But there’s nothing that will help

I remain thirsty

With only the taste of you

On my tongue



Sail (A Poem)

Will you sail away with me?

Far behind the reaches of the iron jungle

and the electric wires that strangle us in our sleep

and the bright little screens that blind us with the

hateful information they show.

Far past all the war and the pain, the blood and tears,

the bombs that kill millions

and the mothers who cradle their dead children,

screaming into the dusty night that it wasn’t fair.

Will you sail away with me?

We can live off the sea, and try to name all the fishes we see.

Perhaps if we sail far enough,

we’ll see the great sea serpent of old.

We’ll race it to the edge of the world,

neck to neck,

and instead of eating us, the great sea serpent

will tell us that our people once were voyagers

before we became afraid of the sea.

Or perhaps we’ll see the churning, roaring

Charybdis and let her swallow us whole,

her sharp teeth not sharp but instead

like the caress of a mother tucking you in for bed.

She’ll take us to a new world

with no war and pain, no blood and tears.

No mothers who cry over corpses.

No iron jungles and wires that strangle us

and little bright screens.

Instead it’ll be us and the Earth,

back to our roots.

Doesn’t that sound nice?

Why don’t you sail away with me?



Elevator Ride: A Poem

Elevator Ride: A Poem 

Once again, I found,

an elevator down

in Stabler Hall 

With careful steps 

we all crowded in

like ten little sausages 

in a row, 

trying not to breathe

We all carried backpacks 

as we pressed against each other 

a bit awkwardly

Strangers became friends – 

or rather acquaintances 

on the elevator

We all laughed at the closeness, 

at the suffocation of ten people

with ten backpacks in a small elevator


via Daily Prompt: Stifle