MY WINTRE POIME: A Throwback to 1st Grade

This blog is not necessarily about creating something new each week, but about sharing pieces of my work that I’m proud of, no matter when I wrote it.

So, I present to you: a poem I wrote in the first grade. My aunt kept it all these years and framed it for me at the end of my Miami University career. She said that she always knew I’d be a writer after I came home as a six-year-old with this in my backpack. Feel free to laugh. This one always makes me smile.



Winter oh winter you

sparkle and glow in the

deep light snow. You are

so cold it makes me

cry. you shimmer and sparkle

in my deep dark eyes.

FEELS LIKE HOME: A Poem, Inspired by an Image

Alien streets

Turned familiar

In just a few weeks

The same steps

Each day, morning and night

Through weather of all kinds

Under a multitude of skies

Green, gray, black, blue

Tracing the same paths

Until they become our own

Until they are ours 

And we can walk them

With our eyes closed

Know them

Like the backs of our hands

The expression goes

But each evening

As the sun sets

I always seem to forget

The way the world changes

And how the ground opens up

To receive the sun

And the way the sky stretches big and broad

To catch the night

And before my eyes

This street that has become normalized,

Mundane and familiar

Puts on a show

For me only

And that is how I know

That this time is mine to hold

That this street is mine to own

That this is home

Outside the Château

Outside the Château

ALL OF MY HAPPY: A Poem/Spoken Word

I was born with all of my happy

Radiating out of my cheeks

In rosy roundness

Aunts and uncles, grandparents

Would kiss them

And I would beam

And I would glow

And I would relish in all of my happy

When I got older

And I would scrape a knee

Or lose a battle

My happy would rattle

And roll off of me

But I was always so sure to go back

To collect all of my happy

Back up into my fingertips

And taste it

Like ice cream

My happy is so delicious

And older still I grew

Losing and picking up

My happy all the time

Until I met you

And I don’t know why

But you became my happy

I poured all of my happy 

Into your cupped hands

And then

When I wasn’t looking

You spread your fingers

And watched all of my happy 

Spill onto the floor

Every. Single. Bit.

And I had been warned

Not to trust someone else’s hands

With all of my happy

My happy is too fragile

Too important

To be tainted

And yet I painted the inside walls of my eyes

With your laugh

And for that

I traded you for

All of my happy

I pumped all of my happy

Into colorful balloons

And gifted them to you

With the naivety

Of pure, innocent love

And I saw you laugh

With that laugh I admire

As you let go

And watched all of my happy

Float up into the clouds, streaming across the big blue

Like they were nothing more than ordinary Party City balloons

My happy does not belong to you


It’s taken me

So. Long.

To pick up

All of my happy

From the floor

To pluck all of my happy

From the sky

To paint over your laugh

That has marked the inside of my mind

And I have realized

Now that I have gathered back up

All of my happy

That it is worth more

Than a lifetime

Of your laughs