WHAT WRITING ISN’T

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Sometimes We Think We Know
But We Really Don’t
Because We Only Have
A Limited View
A Preconceived Idea

ALLITERATION ATTACK

By Charles Robert Lindholm

My Words
Will Always
Want To,
Play
Around

With Rhythms
And Rhymes
And Meaningful
Lines

HAIKU: COUNTING OUT SYLLABLES

By Charles Robert Lindholm

 This Is What I’ll Do

ALLITERATION ATTACK

By Charles Robert Lindholm

My Words
Will Always
Want To,
Play
Around

With Rhythms
And Rhymes
And Meaningful
Lines

WHAT WRITING ISN’T

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Sometimes We Think We Know
But We Really Don’t
Because We Only Have
A Limited View
A Preconceived Idea

HAIKU: A GIFT

By Charles Robert Lindholm

A gift from my heart

On Becoming A Writer

Originally published by the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

Sometimes, adopting the names ‘writer’ and ‘poet’
Led her to encounters with the most amazing minds
Connecting her with a larger community

At other times she thought that ‘writer’ and ‘poet’
Were the loneliest names she had ever called herself
Waking up every morning
To unzip her chest, her gut
And bare her truths to the world
Because like others of her kind
She was complex, messy, containing
Multiple truths, not a singular one

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The Most Beautiful Flower

Once I thought,
that the most beautiful flower
grows in the middle of fields.
And among the lush green,
she sways and dances with the breeze.

Mirrors

Mirrors reflect
what we wish to see
Mirrors tell
of other people we’re dying to be

Mirrors speak
what we’d like to hear
Mirrors hide
what we want to see disappear

falling (in love)​

you pushed me 
off a cliff.

i fell 

you giggled 
as I spun, 
trapped in sheets 
of sleep. 

Paper World

The air thick with pages,

words etched on every one.

The emptying of a soul,

like the firing of a gun.

Depression

One more day
One more day you pull yourself through
One more day you search for any clue
One more day you choose to see the light
One more day you decide to fight

Blank

It glares back at me, blank and bare

and I swear I see eyes there, 

‘Three-Ring Circus’

Carnival
music plays
Round and round it goes.
In and out of ears
Washing over brains.

‘Tangle’

Entangled in vices
The tangled webs of vice
Addiction—
clamors
—for our souls.

‘If Life Were a Dream…’

If life were a dream…
Would yours be a fairy tale?
Or something else?

‘In His Face II’

Behold,
magnificence!
Heaven’s image borne
Adorned
in majesty.

‘Enemy Within’

Positioned on the front lines—
primed for battle.
Gaze fixed forward
—focus
fierce.

‘Memory’

Impressed into my shores,
no distant memory.

‘In His Face I’

Scaling your expression
Scrutinizing your eyes
Does your heart beat?

‘Attention’

Concrete-laden, stretched a mile
Wide and spacious, great support.
Sturdy confidant.

‘O, Voice’

Voices come and voices go,
Scuffling sandals to-and-fro,
People scoff in my direction.
Filthy!

‘Letters’

 

Meaning fastened to your characters,
Order demanded in your line,
Capitals are no lower actors,
Left alone you cannot shine.

‘Cutting Edge’

Moment to moment
we live on the cusp of glory
—the cutting edge of life

Create

Poem by Wendy Norman

It’s warm inside with muted song
My mama purrs this is where you belong
I float and twirl not a care in this world
You dream of me to be unfurled

I cannot see but float and twist
Swooshing waves of fluid to resist
I hear your heart pounding deep
My life depends on this drum beat

Haiku: the writer

He sits, rigidly.

Fingers twitch – little girl dies.

Writer’s Block

On this quiet early morning
I search for words to inspire
A mind blank, making nothing
Fingers empty with high desire