Though I've been writing a lot less poetry in the last few years, it used to be my most prolific type of work. And, granted, I produced my share of truly horrendous teen-angst poems and even worse sappy love poems; some of the better ones are displayed here, but for the most part, I try to avoid love poetry at this point. I think we all go through that sort of stage, and those of us who stick with writing poetry usually grow out of it (and those who don't often end up making their living writing Hallmark cards, so it all works out in the end :-).

What you'll find here is a chronologically-listed selection of my poetry over the years, a great deal of which is rhyming poetry. I mention this because I know that a lot of people dislike rhyming poetry (it's not the current "trend" in poetry as it used to be in more classical times), so if that description fits you, consider yourself warned. There are some freeverse poems, but for the most part, I tend to prefer reading--and writing--rhyming poetry, so for the anti-rhyming nazis, beware.

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No Sign of Rain

Spring 2002 | Freeverse

After spending my entire childhood in a flood of creativity that seemed to know no end, these last few years of my life have been painfully dry. I feel like the creative spark that used to burn inside me has gone out. And sometimes I fear it may never come back again. This freeverse poem was written for a poetry workshop I had a while back, though I'd been itching to write something similar for a while.


Spring 2002 | Freeverse

A freeverse poem written for my late cat, Midnight. Non-pet people can never seem to understand the deep bond between a person and a pet, and they can never seem to understand the anguish, sorrow, grief, and deep sense of loss that comes from the death of such a pet. Whether you understand the sentiments in this poem or not--Midnight does, and that's all that matters. :-)


Spring 2002 | Freeverse

Another freeverse poem written for my poetry workshop a while back. This one was written in direct response to an assignment, in which the teacher gave us an old poem from a "master" (one of the lesser-known masters, the name of whom escapes me at the moment); we were told to write a poem in similar fashion, describing a room but using as few "romanticized," overwritten attributions as possible--in other words, make it as clean and matter-of-fact as we could, keeping the basic form and line structure as the original, and describing the room in detail while letting the details do the talking, not the descriptions themselves.

The room I chose to describes sounds as if it's meant to be my bedroom as a child or something--it isn't. "Home," for me, is a time and a state of mind, not a place, and it was the former I was try ing to describe here. The room you'll read about here never existed--it is simply a representation of my personal "home" in my mind and heart.

Stripped Book

Spring 2002 | Freeverse

And another freeverse poem for my poetry workshop. Playing off the common phrase "don't judge a book by its cover," I explore some of the judgements that have been made of me over the years, and I explore why these judgements bother me rather than jus t rolling off me like water off a duck's back (to use another cliche:-).

When the Towers Fell

September 2001 | Rhyming

Written for the tragic collapse of the World Trade Center. It was written while I watched the evening news coverage of the tragedy, always weeping at the footage of the towers falling.


September 2001 | Rhyming

Written for the attack on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. I heard the news of the incident in the morning before I left for class. I was very distracted (as was every other student that day), and I wrote this while sitting in class, unable to force myself to put any importance on the class topic. This was written based on my immediate, still-in-shock reactions.

Trickster's Song

March 2001| Rhyming

A fan poem based on the Thief game series. In the series, two religious groups often collide--the Hammerites, who worship the Builder and hold man-made structures and technology above all, and the Pagans, who follow the Trickster (also known as the Woodsie Lord) and hold nature, plants, and animals above all. This short poem is written in the grammatically incorrect Pagan dialect and rallies the Pagans together to fight against the Hammerites and any others who threaten their way of life.

A Murder

Spring 2000 | Rhyming

I didn't realize how similar this poem was to Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds until long after I wrote it. It's a short, four line mood poem that demonstrates how quickly things can happen--literally in the blink of an eye.

If Tomorrow I Wake

December 1999 | Rhyming

What began as a small assignment in a literature class ended as this poem, written for an ex-significant-other.

Thirteen Black Roses

September 1998 | Rhyming

The devotion of ancient Celtic women to their husbands was immeasurable. The strong lady in this poem proves that she's as much a warrior as a wife--especially when someone hurts the one she loves most.

Shiny, Black, and Sleek

May 1998 | Rhyming

This poem was written the morning of my high school graduation. As I sat watching the morning news, yet another violent school shooting had taken place, leaving many dead and wounded. This poem's refrain changes its meaning as it progresses, leading to the sad but inevitable end that all these shootings find. Though this was written before the Columbine tragedy, the poem can easily be applied there as well.

The Magnificent 80's

April 1998 | Rhyming

A cute and fun poem about my favourite decade of all , the 1980's.

Secrets Held in Stone

January 1998 | Freeverse

Written before I realized I didn't want to become a Paleontologist (though I spent 13 years thinking that's exactly what I would be), this poem demonstrates the love I had--and will always have--for the beautiful, mysterious Dinosaurs.

Shadow Sharer

January 1998 | Rhyming

Dedicated to Edgar Allan Poe--my mentor, my inspiration, and I would have liked to have called him my friend.

König des Leidens

January 1998 | Rhyming

Dedicated to King Ludwig II of Bavaria--a kindred soul who lived--and died--for himself (the title means "King of Sorrow" in German).

Dream of the Mad

January 1998 | Freeverse

A freeverse poem exhalting King Ludwig's most beautiful castle, Neuschwanstein.

Your New Drug

August 1997 | Rhyming

At the time this poem was written, I was in a relationship with someone who had had a problem with drugs and alcohol in the past. Though clean and sober while with me, I always felt that he was substituting--instead of drugs, I was his new addiction: he used me when he needed a high, and tossed me aside when I got in the way.


April 1997 | Rhyming

A one-way ticket inside my head, inside my own little world.

Eyes of the Beholder

April 1997 | Rhyming

One man's junk is another man's treasure; one woman's Romeo is another woman's Quasimodo. To some, I am less than nothing; to others, I am everything. One's perspective determines one's reality, and I am determined to determine my own.


February 1997 | Rhyming

I have a need to make a mark on the world before I leave it, to insure I live on long after my death. This poem is my promise to myself to do all that I can to be remembered. I hope one day my works will be remembered and enjoyed long after I've gone on to whatever awaits us all after passing.

Warcry of the Unaccepted

1997 | Rhyming

The small Southern town I grew up in wasn't the best place for people like my friends and myself. In a town where being different branded you as anything from insane to dangerous to Satanic, we four friends--all Gothic, with dark velvet clothing and pallid faces--faced great opposition and many tightly closed minds as we struggled to simply be. This poem was our mantra and got us through many trying times.

This is likely a perfect example of one of those angsty teen poems I mentioned before, but this poem is still very dear to my heart.

Dark Soul

October 1996 | Rhyming

The time in my life surrounding this poem was particularly unhappy; the poem became a standing symbol of me as a person for a while after. Though the phrase "Dark Soul" remains a symbol of me today, the poem itself is no longer valid, save in retrospect.

She's There

1994/1995 | Freeverse

The relationship I was in at the time of this poem was generally good, but was overshadowed by the memory of a love from his past. She was always nearby, in everything we did and said, and I wondered where I belonged in all of it.

Poems | Song Lyrics