I come home,
feet about to bleed
from angry stomping.
“Boy!” says Mom.
“Quit making all that racket.”
But what does she expect
when, day after day,
haters sling words at me
like jagged stones
designed to split my skin?
I retreat to my room,
collapse on the bed,
count, “One. Two. Three...”
When I get to ten,
I snatch up journal and pen,
flip to a clean page,
and unload my hurt, my rage
’til I can breathe, again.
Letter by letter,
I rediscover
my power to decide
which words matter,
which words don’t,
and whose.
Calm, now, I remember:
I get to choose.
2021
Shorty
Children's
2022
Ars Poetica
Mental Health
Strength & Resilience
Alliteration
the repetition of the same letter or sound at the beginning of words appearing in succession
Dialogue
conversation between two or more people as a feature of a book, play, or movie
End Rhyme
when a poem has lines ending with words that sound the same
Enjambment
a line break interrupting the middle of a phrase which continues on to the next line
Hyperbole
exaggerated statements or claims not meant to be taken literally
Metaphor
a comparison between two unrelated things through a shared characteristic
Simile
a comparison between two unlike things using the words “like” or “as”