Poetry: My Son

I originally posted this piece about a year ago, but I was inspired to repost it thanks to Chelsea Owens' excellent post about writing good poetry. If you have poetry in your blood, I encourage you to take a look at her post, and be inspired to create (or re-create) your own piece. Bring on…

Who’s Guarding Your Word-Gate?

Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth; keep the door of my lips. – Psalm 141:3 That verse was pinned to my cubicle wall at my first job after graduating college. As a proofreader, I dealt with written words all day, but I also dealt with office gossip. I quickly realized that this verse needed…

Poetry: Sponge Days

some days I seem to be a sponge sadly not the sea-born sort that rests now on my bathtub rim there to scrub my skin with suds then lie still again   I’m not even the kind dually designed with sides to scrub and wipe to wash the dishes and clean the counters and earn…

My Son

As always, I appreciate your comments and critiques. Thank you for taking time to read today's piece. He walks away from me. I see my father in his height and stride, Limbs all long and lean, Bones growing exponentially daily, The rest of him struggling mightily To match in depth His sudden length.   He…