I’ve long read and heard prose authors recommend writing poetry on a regular basis to improve your skills as a prose writer. With that in mind, I am attempting to make a habit of consistent poetry, the results of which I will post on this page.

Running (202301.26)


along a black scar road

through a desolate landscape

of shattered tumble weeds

and lingering snow.

Darkness around

lights glittering in the distance

and the faintest pink streak in the east

like neon bleeding from a cloud.


loud and rattling down a throat

as a north wind blows in

a gathering snowstorm and

the cold air

twists in the lungs

and slicks the sweat the prickles.


footsteps crunch and squeak

alone in the night that grasps

that coming day with desperate fingers.

Coils of muscles

writhe beneath cloth and skin

first one foot, flexing, seeking the launchpad

then the other

calves flexing, eyes darting

freefalling ten miles an hours.


the pounding, breathing, running

each step releasing

the shackles of shadow on a mind.

No ill or gloom can keep apace

nor dark thought gain a perch

upon the running man.

Borivat’s Retirement (202210.04)

A retirement: is it anachronistic?

Re- means back, back from, returning, again, anew.

-Tire from tirade, a volley, tirer: draw out.

So far from that to reach an estate with a view.

What a difficult thing, to live beyond one’s time,

To become a relic, unneeded, unhelpful,

No one of consequence, another “once I was.”

It’s easier, perhaps, to die as Wezzix died.

But no, I live, and I draw not yet useless breath.

A purpose I shall find, what once I sacrificed:

In scholarship and research, I shall stave off death.

In service to myself, and not the Prime, I’ll live.

But wait, the ground shakes!  Wherefrom does this tremor come?

Back to the castle, for my work is not yet done.

Night Attack (202210.04)

Awake!  Awake!  Awake!  The gong reverberates!

The alarm’s out, an attack’s come in the darkness.

With unknown foe, we’ll strive until the hail abates,

Our fortress, it stands strong against the wilderness.

To arms!  To arms!  To arms!  The foe would do us harm!

Us, yes, and all those east of us whom we protect

Civilization, in city, village, and farm.

To defend our peaceful lands, you must stand erect!

Ghosts!  Ghosts!  Ghosts!  Like ghosts they slip through the darkest night.

An arrow strikes here, a slung stone there.  All is dark.

Where go they swiftly now?  I cannot see to fight.

Silence descends, they are fled, but my terror’s stark.

Do you feel the difference?  It comes from the west.

We must learn of this threat, there is no time to rest.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s