BrokenEchoes

Progress continues, slowly. I’ve been working on preparing the draft for the 25th Anniversary Edition of Broken Images . The original was lost to moving, growing, replacing computers, and just good old fashioned time, but text capture technology has been a blessing. It’s helped me recover collection one page at a time, I am just getting the words into a file for now, and I plan to edit once it is all there, but it has been strange remembering some of these poems. Some I barely remember writing. Some take me back to the very day.  This week I’m off work. We decided to take a staycation. There are no big trips. I suspect there will be sleeping in, coffee on the porch, and some hikes around the lake. There may be a few short day-trips if the mood strikes, but mostly we will be right here at home. The spotlight poem this week is a lighter one, a small moment of peace. It’s about taking the time to notice the little joys: the comfort of sleeping in, and the company of a cat who knows...

 It’s been four weeks since my last update—longer than I intended. I appreciate your understanding. In that time, I’ve mailed twelve poems into the world and collected seven rejections. That sounds heavier than it feels.  I’m sending the work out where it belongs. At some point I am confident that an editor will see worth in one or more of them. I’ve also finished drafting an entire poetry collection. I don't yet have a title for this collection yet. I have run through some possibilities, but nothing I try sets the right mood or sings the right note. But I will figure it out soon. The past few weeks have held a rare peace for me. The dread and thick lethargy that usually shadow my days have eased. It’s a blessing, but it changes the writing. The words don't flow as freely. They demand more editing and reworking, but I welcome the challenge. Authentic poems should speak from every season, not just the dark ones. There is no spotlight poem for this post, but look for the...

The past couple of weeks have been heavy ones for me creatively. I was in something of a slump, finding it difficult to put words on paper. But Tuesday broke that streak, and I wrote two new poems. They’ll need work, no doubt, but they are on paper now. I can fine tune them later with fresh eyes. I still haven’t started on the 25th anniversary edition of Broken Images , though it’s on my horizon.  Another idea has also been spinning in my head for a few days. It’s still too early to share details, but it feels fun, powerful, and important. It is something that matters deeply to me, and something I hope will matter to you as readers when it is closer to finished. For now, I want to share a spotlight poem with you. This one is about the long journeys we sometimes find ourselves on, the kind where the end may be near, but we dare not get our hopes up too soon.

I haven’t written much poetry over the past couple of weeks. I also haven’t sent in any new submissions. There isn’t anything major wrong, I’m just in the grip of a series of heavy grey days. Writing is hard when the fog sets in. Motivation slips. Words don’t come easily. I remind myself, though, that this will pass. It always does. Still, I hope it passes soon. Even in the grey stretches, I keep looking toward the work ahead. One project I’m excited about is a 25th anniversary edition of my very first collection, Broken Images . I’ll be correcting some lingering typos, creating a new cover, and adding updated front and back matter. Revisiting that early work sparks a strange nostalgia. I can scarcely remember writing some of these poems, and I can see how my voice has changed and grown over the years. Today’s spotlight poem is Cat Feet . It captures a quiet kind of moment, the kind that slips in unexpectedly and brings its own small peace. Cat Feet The soft bright morning Is mu...

  I’ve been thinking a lot about visibility lately. At times I feel both seen and unseen simultaneously. When I share my poetry, I’m visible. My words are honest, personal, and sometimes raw. I peel back layers I usually keep hidden in daily life. People who read my work see thoughts I don’t speak aloud. They see the vulnerable parts I often keep behind a calm, competent mask. And yet, I’m invisible. Not because I hide my writing, but because I’m still learning how to market it. In a crowded world of voices, mine hasn’t reached many ears. I can speak, but if no one is listening, the sound disappears before it’s truly heard. That’s the contradiction of showing your true self to the world while feeling like the world doesn’t notice. This week’s spotlight poem, Swampland , lives in that tension. It’s about being stuck somewhere in-between—between who I’ve been and who I hope to become, between the weight of the present and the pull of the future. Swampland Where I find myself no...

Writing Updates: This week, there’s not much to report in terms of progress. No new poems, no new submissions...yet. I did receive a rejection a few days ago, which always stings, but I will keep submitting. It is only a matter of time before my work finds an audience. I will send out more poems soon. Sometimes powerful work happens internally. I've been watching events happen around me, and the moments linger, and will perhaps in time be ideas, then a theme, then a poem. Sometimes that is how the process happens for me. Reflection: I’ve been thinking about how life just… goes on. Whether I’m writing or not, it doesn’t pause. Moments keep lining up, chaotic, and unpredictable. Emotions rise and fall, weather shifts, people bring their own brand of horror. Even when I feel stuck, the world keeps circling. I try to find some meaning in every day. It is comforting that some days, even when I am not putting pen to paper, I am still constructing stories, still stringing words toget...

📝  News from the week This past week, I wrote five new poems. I was pleased because I had been in a bit of  writing slump. If you have been following my content, you may already know that I try to write a poem every day. You may also know that if the words don't flow, I don't try to force them. After a couple of dry weeks, the words started flowing again.  I also submitted ten pieces to two different literary magazines. Every time I receive a rejection, I sent out two more. Sometimes sending submissions feels like screaming into the void. I'm going to keep trying though. It is just a matter of time until my work finds a home.  It’s been a week of steady effort, small wins, and quiet persistence. But it’s also been a week where I’ve felt the weight of the grind, that pressure to keep going, keep producing, keep submitting to a system that doesn't see you. That feeling is at the heart of this week’s spotlight poem. 

 I was supposed to write this yesterday, but I didn’t. There was no emergency, no pressing obligation. Nothing was standing in my way. I just couldn’t talk myself into starting. And that, sometimes, is the hardest part, getting starting. I haven't written many poems over the past couple of months. The blank feels heavy sometimes. It expects too much. I have however, been toying around with a sci-fi short story. A space heist story. I am not sure if it will turn out to be good, or if I will be able to figure out an ending for it, but it is something that I am having fun with. At least so far.  Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how quickly time slips through our fingers, especially during the moments we want most to hold onto. The quiet ones. The ones that seem like nothing on the surface but mean everything when they’re gone. That’s the essence of this week’s spotlight poem. 📝 Spotlight Poem: "Moment by Moment" You can read the full poem here: 👉 Moment by Moment It...

Lately, I’ve been caught in a writing slump. Not writer’s block exactly—more like a heavy silence.  I'm trying not to force anything. Forcing it only makes the silence more stubborn. I know this will pass. It always does. But when you're someone who uses writing to process the weight of the world, silence feels heavy. I’ve been trying to lean into stillness instead of panicking. To let the poems come when they’re ready, even if that means staring at blank pages for a while. To stay connected with the creative part of me, I’ve been revisiting past poems—some I’ve nearly forgotten writing. This week, I reread “Lost Humanity,” a piece I published in April, and it felt especially relevant. Poem Spotlight: “Lost Humanity” Read it here: Lost Humanity – Broken Echoes This poem reads like a dispatch from the edge of civilization; post-apocalyptic in setting, but emotionally rooted in something very human: grief. It opens abruptly: “All there is now is wasteland / With a few...

 Good evening everyone. Welcome to this week's blog post. 1. Writing/Life Update It has been a heavy week at work. There are chaotic elements in flux that I can't control, so I am trying to be flexible and go with the flow.  I didn't get much poetry written this week, but I did get a few hundred words of a short story drafted. I like the direction that it is going in. I think that I am enjoying the atmosphere. The plan is a sort of cyberpunk heist story, but it is still in its infancy so that may change.  I received my latest poetry collection back from my editor, put in the final touches, and self-published it yesterday. You can find hit here . I also made the front matter, back matter and cover myself. The image on the cover is a featureless silhouette of a person afloat in stylized water. The person could be you. It could be me. It could be any of us who are still trying to stay afloat.   I think it looks good. What do you think? 2. Featured Poem or Excerpt ...

 Hey everyone.  Welcome to this week's blog post. I hope you have had a fun and productive week. I for one am happy that it is the weekend. It has been a whole week of long days, and I am glad to have some time for a writing session or two.  I am also working to polish up the next collection. The working title is currently "Treading Water". It is in the hands of my editor. I think I did a decent job of proofreading on my own, but hopefully it doesn't come back covered in red.  Yesterday was Friday the 13th and I took the opportunity to find a horror short story collection. I am looking forward to sinking my teeth into it.    It seems like it has rained every weekend for months and the sun shines when we are stuck inside. Spring is devious in that way. Sparing one moment and overgenerous the next. It marches on and nature is refreshed. This reminds me of my poem "Waking Up".  This poem was posted on this blog previously and you can read it here . S...

  Opening Reflection: June has arrived with its heavy green and its sudden rains. The air feels thicker, like it’s full of stories still half-formed. Some days I feel suspended between seasons. While remembering the promise of spring, I am bracing for summer’s heat.  Writing Update: I’ve spent much of this past week revisiting older work, not to revise it, but to reflect on it. One poem in particular came to mind after a recent conversation with my wife about small joys: the first blooms of the season, the reappearance of the birds in the yard, or how the light changes across the lake. Spotlight Poem: “Early Spring” Read it here: Early Spring (March 2022) This poem was inspired by a walk my wife and I took through Paintsville Lake State Park. It was still winter, but there were signs of an early spring The trail was still wearing winter’s grey and there was a cold breath of wind off the water. But in the middle of all that stillness, she saw them: the first wildflowers o...

I didn't write much of anything this week, not even in my journal. It has been a busy week, sure, but that isn't the reason. I always have a notebook in my pocket, so I could steal a moment here or there to write down anything noteworthy--anything that could be tugged at, stretched, manipulated and turned into an idea, a theme, or a poem. I didn't find anything to be worthy of writing down. My days were filled with mundane, repetitive, disinterest. Some days are like this. Some times they group together into larger masses. Sometimes they stand in the way for far too long.  As we finish the week, we also finish the month. Tomorrow begins the bright month of June, and I hope to progress my next poetry collection to publication readiness. I hope to continue these weekly blog posts, and the biweekly newsletters (subscribe here).   I am currently listening to " The Handmaids Tale " by Margaret Atwood during my commutes. It has been a compelling story so far, and the na...

Today slipped through my fingers. I had plans—put this blog post together early, maybe sit on the front porch and read a bit, then put together some poetry submissions—but instead, I found myself getting lost in practicing on my new wood lathe for a couple of hours and then mowing the lawn. Some days are like that: other interests can sometimes take over. I’m okay with that. This week was a slow one for writing. I managed put some notes together about a short story I have been tinkering with. I have a very loose goal of writing everyday, but I don't force it. If I can't write, I edit. If I can't edit, I read. Maybe I will get to those submissions tomorrow. Revisiting my poem "Commander" brought a wave of introspection. Written from the perspective of an unprepared leader thrust into responsibility, it mirrors feelings of inadequacy and the weight of expectations. The lines: "I am the commander of these troops I put on a face of calm strength Of confiden...

This week, I found myself staring into the past—and it stared right back. After pouring out fresh words during the NAPOWRIMO challenge in April, I shifted gears to revisit something old: a tattered notebook filled with poems I wrote over twenty years ago. As I work through the pages of that ancient text, I am surprised to find how my voice has changed. The themes and subjects are unchanged, but I feel that the voice of my poems has evolved. My early poems are raw, bursting with unfiltered emotion—sometimes chaotic, sometimes clumsy. Today’s voice feels different: more deliberate, like a stew that’s had time to simmer. Seasoned, in more ways than one. Both sets of words are important to me, and they both will be represented in my upcoming collections.  Even as my voice has matured, the themes remain hauntingly familiar—loneliness, doubt, the sense of never quite belonging. It’s sobering to realize I’ve been carrying these same emotional burdens for decades. That enduring struggle in...

A few weeks ago, I wrote a poem as part of my National Poetry Writers Month challenge. (You can read it here .) The inspiration behind it was a recurring situation I face—something that isn’t my responsibility, something I didn’t initiate, but something that still has the power to impact me emotionally. It’s a scenario that feels all too familiar. The kind that weighs on you, shifts your mood, and leaves you wondering if things will ever change. For me, it felt like one of those time loop episodes you see in science fiction shows or movies—where the protagonist keeps reliving the same day or moment, but the catch is, they remember the past loops. They can learn, adapt, and choose a different path, right? But what if that wasn’t the case? What if, no matter how many times you relived it, the outcome stayed the same? What if there was no escape, no alternate choices, and no relief? That was the feeling I tried to capture in the poem—the pain of repetition, the hopelessness of facing the ...

For a long time, this blog has been a place where I’ve shared my poetry. You’ve seen my words presented as visual poems, each one paired with an aesthetic image to enhance the feeling of the piece. It’s been a beautiful way to showcase my work and connect with you, my readers. However, as I’ve evolved in my writing, I felt it was time to shift the focus of this space a bit. A New Chapter for My Blog Starting today, I’ll be incorporating more than just poems. You’ll still find my poems here, of course, but now you’ll also see reflections on the writing process, discussions about poetry, and resources for writing and publishing. Poetry has always been a deeply personal practice for me, and I hope that by sharing more about how it’s helped me, I can encourage others to find their own creative outlets. What You Can Expect This Month Throughout Mental Health Awareness Month, I’ll be posting new poems alongside stories and insights about how writing has been a form of emotional release f...

  We field commanders are due at to meet in one month’s time There is a summit to share news, wins and losses To form and adjust strategies I have little to report My small, distant land is poor Our warriors are weak or old or both We don’t have the helms, swords, or shields we need We don’t have the skills to craft them, or gold to buy them. These are strong loyal men Who will defend this land to their last breath But many have never held a weapon And none have been trained I myself am a cook I’m meant to feed men, not lead them I fell into this commander role  At the death of my predecessor I’ve been stumbling ever since I am the commander of these troops I put on a face of calm strength Of confidence and impending victory At the summit, I am the least of many The commander of a tiny remote territory Ignored or forgotten Along with my homeland Along with my people I am failing them I don’t have the skills or knowledge I need There is no one to pass this burden to We will los...