Just one little thing


I held it all close
but the dues are paid are they not
these words come at last
to eyelashes that never blinked
flotsam with no heartbeat
battling for months, but your
creator was killing you
I was afraid for you. of you
but He knows His business
no, it’s true yet…
two decades later
my heart still knows
I never got to say goodbye
I never got to say goodbye.

The Centurion


I actually won first prize in a Christian poetry contest on the website “www.writing.com!”  My name on the site is “Neeks.”
Here is the prompt and my entry follows:

In the movie “The Passion of the Christ,” during the crucifixion scene they accurately portrayed what would have happened. When the centurion thrust the spear into Jesus’ side, they showed blood and water pouring from the wound and some got on the centurion. We know there is power in the blood of Jesus, pure saving power. In a poem, the form of your choice, show me what the centurion would have felt at that moment. Did he see Jesus as the Christ? Did he see the sin in his own life? Did he realize how unworthy he was of God’s saving grace? What went through his mind? Use imagery and emotion to depict the scene, and what the centurion must have felt. What would you have felt if you were him?

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Moving Day


I don’t know how to do this. Amy Therriot-Winters sat in the foyer which featured, at the moment, fresh flowers on the entryway table and a new crystal chandelier over the stairwell. Her hand smoothed her linen slacks over and over while she looked at each piece of furniture and said good-bye to them. She had picked out each painting and drape herself, even the burled wood that stretched across the mantel. Her fireplace! The new house didn’t have one. Read the rest of this entry

To Grandmother’s House We Go!


Ambivalent, Raccoon, Generation.

Malevolent yellow eyes followed me when ever I walked through the living room. Their gaze skittered off of my shoulders and shivered down my back making my five-year old legs weak. I hid behind my mother when going upstairs; otherwise I pushed my back to the wall and scraped past as quickly as I could. The old stuffed owl on the newel was terrifying. The first time I saw it I touched the tip of the beak and got a nasty cut that became infected, I knew for sure it had bitten me. Hey I was little, what did I know? Read the rest of this entry

Silence in the Swamp


Incorribible, Tranquillité, Doused

Arlie found the girl drifting deep in the Everglades. Shoulder-length dark hair stuck to her face, he figured her to be around 15 or 16. The girl wore a flowered blouse with tan shorts and white sneakers. She was lying all a-kilter in an old boat, with one arm slung over the side and one leg curled beneath her. Her fingers just grazed the water, leaving ripples that quickly disappeared. Nothing disturbs the black water of the bayou for long, nothing that wants to live. Read the rest of this entry