Clouds cover the sun so bright

Shutting out the rays of its might

Bringing rain for the world below

When the time is right it might even snow

And below turmoil reigns supreme

Battling the evils of the storm so mean

Too little avail people continue in struggle

No ground does not carry a puddle

In this time so hopeless and dreary

Tomorrow the sun will wake up and shine.

No Longer a Boy

From The Sureshot Rises book 1 of my Sureshot trilogy. Get a copy today and join the adventure!

Durbar asked, “So what do you think? Do you think I should try to compete? I don’t know what to do.”

Znak paused for a moment, took a long drink, and looked deep into Durbar’s eyes, studying them, and began, “Lad, I’m not going to be the one to make that decision. It is for you and only you to make.”

Durbar wasn’t satisfied. “What do you think my father would say?”

“You are not a boy any longer, and it is time for you to make your own way. It’s not going to be easy, but you are going to have to do it soon enough. You want to know what I think? I think you already made up your mind because you came here. If you didn’t want to compete, you wouldn’t have come all the way here before the festival.” Both men were quiet for a moment. The wisdom of Znak’s words was undeniable. It was true that, although in his mind, Durbar was uneasy about meeting with the prince and competing, his heart led him there and would probably lead him to Rothan. Durbar looked down into his drink. Znak stared at the young man, studying his reaction.

“You’re right, Znak. I can’t go back to the cabin. I don’t want to be there alone anymore. I need to do something else,” Durbar explained plainly, as if trying to convince himself more than Znak. “It’s not the same without Father,” he said as his eyes began to mist.

In Flight

A poem I wrote a very long time ago, in high school


through the dark black sky.


over the tiny world below.

Gliding ,

across huge, crushing, currents.


with the endless wind.


past great flashes of lightning.


the thin atmosphere.


on the tranquil white clouds.


everyday, one at a time.


with the unpredictable weather.

It will take you where you want to go.

Slobbered and Groaned

From The Monster in the Woods a Sureshot short story. Get a copy today and join the adventure!

Nearby, an ancient creature sniffed the air and caught scent of the herd. The beast growled low and looked about for signs of the animals but did not find them. Instead, he sniffed again and turned to the direction of the unsuspecting bucks. He squinted his eyes and sniffed some more, confident he had found the source of the smell. He slobbered and groaned thinking about how delicious and tasty the bucks would be. His eyes focused as his hand gripped a rudimentary club in his giant fist, tightly.

Last day!

Last day to get The Sureshot Rises on kindle for free! Get a copy and join the adventure today!

     The cold mountain air bit at the faces of two men as they crept silently toward a young, unsuspecting buck nibbling on some roots. Without any sound, they inched their way closer to the animal. Durbar, a young man of fifteen, watched his father, Adar, very carefully, and mimicked his movements; ever striving to be the great woodsman his father was. 

The large man stopped suddenly and so did his son. He slowly reached for his giant long bow and gently pulled out an arrow from the quiver on his back. The woodsman quickly inspected the arrow to ensure there was no damage to the fletching, notched it and stood up slowly and carefully. His black cloak concealed him in the dark, dense forest. The hunter drew back the string of his mighty bow until it touched his bearded cheek. Holding absolutely steady, he loosed the arrow. The missile twisted slightly as it sailed through the still air, flying past massive trees until finding the unsuspecting buck. The arrow struck the animal’s side, piercing his heart. Stunned and now struggling to cling to life, the buck tried to stumble away, but did not get far.

Maddy’s Birthday Poem

I cannot believe I have a 17 year old!!!

With each passing year

You bring me more cheer

As you grow more intelligent

And even more elegant

Becoming a beautiful woman

Yet growing in wisdom

I can hardly be prouder

Of you my loving daughter

So today we celebrate you

We’ll blow out a candle or two

But I love you every day

Even as you go on your way

Take on that crazy world!

You’ll always be Daddy’s girl

Mother’s Day Sonnet

There is little more amazing than birth.

Motherhood is a special hob from God.

A gift and a burden with increased girth.

Today I want to take time to applaud.

Four times did you endure and sacrifice.

Carrying with care such precious cargo.

So important not everyone sufficed.

A process begun many years ago.

Each time carried them from start to finish.

You kept them free from injury and harm.

A woman so divine and unselfish.

The mother of our children full of charm.

Now we are blessed with four precious children.

I count you the greatest among women.


A joke that turned into a poetry challenge when a student said my good friend is her favorite teacher

Good morning student

I casually greet

I’m so glad you’re here

I’m so glad to meet

You’ll love this class

I’m sure at the end of it 

You’ll learn great many things

And I’ll be your favorite

Wait, what’s that you say? 

That can’t possibly occur? 

You already have a favorite

You say it’s Pullinger? 

Why oh why

Do you insist

That Pullinger

Is your favorite? 

Why do you so enjoy

Inflicting pain on me?

What have I done to you

That you feel so free? 

Why oh why

Do you insist

That Pullinger

Is your favorite? 

You pierce my joyful spirit

And cause it to bleed

Is this some game to you? 

Something you need? 

Why oh why 

Do you insist 

That Pullinger

Is your favorite? 

Have I not entertained? 

Have I not educated? 

Was it all for not? 

Was all my effort wasted? 

Why oh why

Do you insist

That Pullinger 

Is your favorite? 

Do you not see the pain

Etched deeply on my face?

I have no clear idea

How much I can take

Why oh why

Do you insist

That Pullinger 

Is your favorite? 

I’m truly unsure

How I can continue

Now that I know the truth

What am I to do? 

Why or why 

Do you insist 

That Pullinger 

Is your favorite?