Sunday, May 9, 2021

Poem: bricks

Hello, dear readers!

I know I’ve been neglecting my blog lately, but I have been writing a lot. Just not here. I’m recently finished rewriting the climax to one novel, and I’m trying to finish the second draft of another before the end of May. Oh yeah, and I’m also thinking about submitting some poems for publication, and I’m developing a short story which may or may not turn into a series. *cue distant screaming*

Soooo, I’m taking the summer off from blogging, maybe longer, until further notice. In the mean time, here’s a poem I wrote during a writing sprint with friends.




brick-red, the russet hue

that clung to calloused hands

and corroded like crumbs,

coated fingers like chalk


brick-yellow, the sunburnt shade

that smelled of asphalt and wind

on a summer’s day—petrol

and the singe of a magnifying glass


brick-gray, the mind’s matter

that can’t quite recall

the thrill of the path i carved

when i scaled these walls


brick-white, the bleached blanket

that coated the face like foundation,

but didn’t quite belong where the dirt

stained its skirts brick-red




Let’s chat! What did you think of the poem? Do you have any writing friends you can do writing sprints with?

Similar poems: The Smell of Earth; Seeking the Song of Time; and Concrete Forest, Paper Meadows

Looking for more reading material until I’m back from my hiatus? Check out my books: Dandelion Symphony and Last of the Memory Keepers.

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