BrokenEchoes

 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 ...