On The Go- Waiting

Something is going to happen.

There beyond the next bend in life.

An opportunity will rise.

Wings fluttering as it takes flight.

But before I tread or hear a sound.

I wait in an eternity of stillness.

-M. E. InkOwl

By My Side


Love me sweet beneath this falling snow,

As we sit upon this stone.

Lean in close and twine our fingers,

Whisper close so our touch does linger.

Reach my heart with your eyes so deep,

As your heart beats to love’s knowing leap.

-M.E. InkOwl

On the Go- Road Home

Glistening paths winding round melting hillocks of snow.

Dark birches stretch toward the night sky.

Feel a chill as lights sweep into deep places.

Silent prayers utter to the winter air:

“Bring me home safe.”

-M.E. InkOwl

On The Go is a series of poems I’ve written in the short spans of time between school, teaching, working, parenting, and being a husband. Sometimes thoughts come unbidden to mind and I feel the need to write. So I indulge myself for the briefest of moments and write. Enjoy!

Parenthood- Growth

Once I held you in the crook of my arm.

You would coo at me with eyes bright and full of wonder.

I remember holding you in the night wondering if you were even real.

Now I find your head reaches the crook of my arm as you stand beside me.

You laugh at me as your eyes dance with mischief.

I sneak in at night to whisper in your sleeping ear how much I love you.

All the while wondering if you are even real.

-M. E. InkOwl

Sinister Countdown: Tiptoe

Tiptoe between the weeds,

Circle round the foundation green.

Hear the chirp and paper whisper,

Of a secret-keeping sister.

Hiss of cat and creak of stair,

Close your eyes and wish Them here.

Now you’ve lifted forbidden vale,

Seeing the very depths of hell.

Lay your body upon crypt floor,

And wait your doom forever more.

Circle round the foundation green,

Tip toe, tip toe, forever unseen.

-M.E. InkOwl

Sinister Countdown: The Preserve by L. Stevens

The Preserve

Sarah planted both hands on the railing of the boardwalk and peered down at the murky water and ferns. The signs for the preserve had advised to look down at the water as well as out at the trees to spot wildlife. So far, she had only spotted a tangle of wilting pink balloons ensnared in a cypress tree.

She sighed, hoping to spot an alligator, or at least a wading bird before leaving. When she spotted the small, pink sneaker sticking out the mud instead, she leaned closer, fearing the worst. It wasn’t until the little girl sat up from the muck, a crimson gash contrasting with her grey, sallow skin, that Sarah began to scream in earnest.

Author Bio:

L. Stevens lives in Charlotte, NC with her husband and two dogs. When she isn’t writing, she is exploring local sites for inspiration and watching morbid amounts of true crime documentaries.

You can read more from L. Stevens here.

Schooled: Hope

Minds at work shining bright,

Fighting to receive wondrous sight.

Thunders the heart, shakes the mind.

A silent prayer whispers in my hands,

Please, please let me teach this right.

-M.E. InkOwl