Letting Life Lead
When I was 17 years old a girl from my high school that I didn’t know was shot and killed. I don’t remember much, but a few students in my senior class knew her and I remember the counselors coming to campus. I didn’t write the poem until a year later, and though the tragedy didn’t impact me directly it does come to my mind from time to time. This is one of the few poems that I’ve written that I can recite by heart and remember writing. I found one news article dated January 28, 1991: A Sniper’s Shot Brings Death and Heartbreak, Smashing the Dreams of a Girl and Her Parents. It was a time when newspapers were just starting to put things on the internet. Reading it I was struck that the mother was, then, my age now.
Little bird, Robin
With your breast of scarlet
I heard not your cheery song
Before the unsound black Snipe
snuffed out your lighted candle
as you were passing by.
The place where all the things I write live
Writer and procrastinator
Warden of Words // Shaper of Stories
Bewitching Journey of Words to Meaning
This is the story of building a cottage , the people and the place. Its a reminder of hope and love.
The 24 hours Writing Hotspot and Hang Out
Just your average PhD student using the internet to enhance their CV
Every now and then my head is racing with thoughts so I put pen to paper
Vulnerable on main