Introspection (Page 6)

A lone white and yellow frangipani flower on a cement floor.

Shame, shame, know your name (article)

Shame can be a strong force for positive change. At the same time, shame can stunt my growth.

(333 words)

[continue]. . .

A white, painted brick wall, with handprints, smears, and splatters of red across it.

Bleeding Out (a poem)

Truth runs red.
Flowing
everywhere.

It cannot be stopped,
held back,
contained.

[continue]. . .

A pink, stuffed bunny, with one ear bent backward at the halfway point, and a brown teddy bear, with a red ribbon around its neck, sit side by side on a wet road in pouring rain. The bear's arm is around the bunny's back, and its head is tilted toward the bunny, as if showing compassion and care.

never (a poem)

there are days, seasons
when i am by myself
lost and overwhelmed

[continue]. . .

A dense, green forest with a grove of beech trees and lush undergrowth.

ever lost (a poem)

deep in the green
buried amongst the trees
no discernible path
no place to bed down
I struggle to find
my way

[continue]. . .

The US Capitol building dome is aglow as the sun sets for the evening. The blue sky is partially covered by purple and pink clouds colored by the setting sun. Shot from the water across from the halls of Congress.

It’s a con job (a consistent poem)

A
confirmation
of
CONTROL.

Congratulations
to the
CONSTRUCT.

TW: Politics

[continue]. . .

A woman in mourning, in a black coat and dress, with a black umbrella and a single red flower in her hand, faces a cemetery in Fall.

Shadows and Rain (a poem)

Beneath the black umbrella tops
their hearts beat in time
with each and every falling drop
of rain against the pine.

TW: Death

[continue]. . .

A stork and gulls sit atop the rubbish in a public landfill.

A Mother’s Day (a poem)

I live on land that is not mine.
Her people, long departed,
left not a trace.
Their legacy, a world in balance.

I am not like them.

[continue]. . .

A girl in jeans and a yellow button down blouse, feeling a lack of motivation, falls over to lie on a gray couch.

Motivation (a poem)

Sometimes, it eludes me
when I’m not feeling
anything really.

TW: Depression

[continue]. . .

A small, pink flower grows up between the unfinished, wood planks of a home deck.

Is anyone listening? (a poem)

I flay myself
on the altar of art,
cut down to the bone,
break every last part.

I write it on paper,
type it into my phone,
share it with the world,
and feel utterly alone.

[continue]. . .

A pencil sketch of a man's face. A tin of numbered, black sketching pencils and a single red pencil lay across the art.

Art is Life. (thoughts)

Creating art is an intentional act
of learning about oneself
and the world around us.
Art is…

[continue]. . .

Introspection (Page 6)

Shame, shame, know your name (article)

Bleeding Out (a poem)

never (a poem)

Shadows and Rain (a poem)

Motivation (a poem)

Is anyone listening? (a poem)

Art is Life. (thoughts)

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