Two figures have been ever present in my life cloaked with wisdom and filled to the brim with unconditional love. “You are incredible, my wonderful darling.” Grandmother declares with a flourish of her hands. “You make us proud.” Grandfather says, his eyes disappearing behind the wrinkles of a smile. Even as an exhausting youth, filled … More Figures of Inspiration
Different am I, one who is touched by the fire of ink and paper. The world is divergent to my eyes, one moment at a time. Many see it as a fever of the mind, a weakness to be excluded, or ignored. “Oh you write,” They say with an awkward pause, “Why?” But how do I explain … More Creed of a Writer
“Run!” My feet plead as I stand before it all. The sky stretches far beyond my small body as wind tosses grass about. “Go.” Whispers my hands, aching to reach out and propel me forward. Shadows play over a vast patchwork quilt of alfalfa and sage. “Move.” Says the wind as it dances around my … More Between Cloud and Stone
We played upon the gentle graces of Summer’s last breath. Between tree and water, our lives stood still. Before us lay a pool of inspiration, Waiting to be released upon willing minds. The sun warmed our skin, even as a whisper of fall came calling. Around us, leaves began to turn and our very bones … More Summer’ Last Breath
Rise oh bones of yew Drink up dust from yonder earth Resurrect the light -M.E. InkOwl
Home is what I call thee. For as doth my bones ache to be removed from thee, So singeth the blood within my veins. My heart whispers, “Stayeth a while, lest thou wander too far.” For upon my brow is etched a righteous design, To be, forever, cradled within a basin of perfection. Here I … More Home
You captured my heart As our world was set aflame We are but cinders -M.E. InkOwl
Wind caresses me I lean into the daylight The ibis dips low -M.E. InkOwl
Here upon the ground I walk, Between tall grass and sage. In the distance, I spy a lowing form, Chocolate brown surrounded by gray-green. I feel an age pass beneath the sun, Within the blink of an eye. A hawk twists in the sky, And below the lowing continues. For now, my feet must hold … More The Wheel Ever Turning
Sometimes it feels like I’ve stepped from the bonds of reality and wandered through the gates of infinity. I cannot tell between the aging lenses of my eyes if what I behold is a mere figment of my imagination, or solid fact beneath my bones. So close I feel to the Earth that is my … More A Feast of the Mind
The Ink Owl 