BrokenEchoes

 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...