The Insomniac Writer

Don’t know what a fib is (hint: it is a poetry term)? Well, look it up, and try one yourself.
*********************
I
Am
Broken,
Fearfully
Counting the hours
Until, at last, I rest with God.
 
 
Man,
God,
Holy
Love affair,
The crux of the path
That leads us from death unto life

                Lisa Trenton stirred her iced tea absentmindedly as she listened to her sister drone on and on about her latest business coup. It wasn’t an uncommon situation, so Lisa often employed such tactics in order to maintain some semblance of sanity. She would just disappear for a short while, imagining herself in the Bahamas, [...]

It comes to me on Valkyrie wings
this hope to love again
some song of death Brynhildr sings
a call to broken men
 
from Midgard’s mortal mud to bound
up to Valhalla’s hall
where love and Hel can each be found
and even gods may fall

                Spenser Trent planned to kill himself. His reasons were varied and many, but the solution was as simple as it was cowardly. He would step in front of a bus and put an end to himself. He had considered jumping out in front of a cab, but feared harming the cabbie or his passenger. [...]

Far from my best work, but it’s certainly honest! By the way, I found out today that I didn’t win, place or show in the 3-Day Novel Writing Contest. I was disappointed. I was hoping for an honorable mention, at least. Still, I won’t let one failure (or 5000) keep me from pursuing my passion. I’ll keep working – and come Labor Day [...]