Poetry and Prose

  • Joshy in Big Sky Country,  Poetry and Prose

    Joshy

    I wrote this poem in honor of my son, Joshy, which was read at his memorial service on April 16, 2022.   Your smile continues to echo across the shadows— A haunting remnant of the pain that once marked your brow And a fountainhead of light in the darkest midnight. Seeking the Audience of One, you journeyed toward the long tomorrow, A worn and weary traveler now at rest. Parting ways in the depths of night, rejoining in eternal day.   Sweet affliction, burdened beyond your tender years God, in grace, entrusted me to walk beside you, Through paths of bittersweet valleys, in thorns and wildflowers. He gathered our tears…

  • writing
    Poetry and Prose,  Writing

    Writing for the Long Tomorrow

    I wrote this piece for the Colorado Christian Writers Conference contest, prose category. Although it didn’t win, I view it as the reason for and a reflection of my desire to write for the Audience of One. Writing for the Long Tomorrow Darkness licks at the remnants of a once proud city, the wind whispering lamentations through its corpse. The fragrant stench of death permeates every square inch, ruling over the ghosts of long-gone gods. Inhibit truth and life ebbs, awash in despair. The Audience of One points me here, a daily reminder on my journey toward the long tomorrow. Through tempests and deserts, barren winters and silent chasms. Through…

  • poetry
    Poetry and Prose,  Writing

    Ink of Affliction

    I wrote this piece for the 2019 Colorado Christian Writers Conference contest with the theme of “Write His Answer”. Inspired by Octavius Winslow’s quote, “David’s pen never wrote more sweetly than when dipped in the ink of affliction,” and my own experiences with adversity, I poured my heart into this poem and was awarded first place in the Not Yet Published Writer division. Ink of Affliction In tempests on the heels of one another, I am emptied, Barren with parchment and nary a thought of You. Adversity presses on the midnight of my soul To the call of Your glorious morning. Beads of sorrow gather into my dry inkwell, Drenched…

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