What’s The Weather?

Texas is drowning,

California is drying,

the Midwest is freezing,

the Arctic is dying,

and you sit in your box

plastic, oily, and gray,

waiting for them to tell you

what’s the weather today.


365 Poems: DECEMBER 31ST, 2014

The End

My journey is through.

On this cliff, a new

last bow.

Skies turn black to blue,

and for once, I knew


that I’d love this view.

There’s nothing left to

say now.



365 Poems: December 30th, 2014

Wasting Away

The world’s still moving forward

and I’m sitting like a snail,

walking down the forest pathway

with no real good place to be.

Taking in the last of this year

as the stars climb through the sky,

breaking sticks and brushing branches

’cause I don’t know where to go.

But that doesn’t matter here

in this last hour of the day.

Why not take in these last moments,

breathe the air of newer years?

Yes, I’m walking down this pathway

and I’m not sure of my name,

but I’ve got some time to find it

’til this year turns round again.

“A Walk Through the Forest”

365 Poems: December 29th, 2014

Life’s Puzzles

I can watch my brother solve

a Rubik’s Cube in thirty seconds.

I can navigate the map

of Minecraft servers any day.

Logic puzzles and crime novels

offer nothing much of lessons

and when she asks, “Where’s the homework?”

I have learned just what to say.


But life’s puzzles

aren’t as easy:

every choice I’ve had to make,

competitions, conversations,

every smile that I’ve faked.

There’s no limit to the troubles

that so few have ever won…


If only writing these poems

was the hardest thing I’ve done.

365 Poems: December 28th, 2014

These Last Days

There are only so many seconds

until this dream ends,

and still I struggle to find the right words.

Still I scour my head

for something deep and meaningful:

a last hurrah or a resolution

that will leave you all clapping.

But my mind does not go there

during these last days.

Instead, it reaches for the simple things:

a friend,

a gift,

a love,

because it does not wish for this to be an end.

This is not an end.

More importantly, it’s a beginning

and I know that when the last word is written,

I will be able to smile and look up

and see where these days will take me.

“Our Last Days as Children”

365 Poems: December 26th, 2014

The Gift of Time

All these sweet seconds wasted

on gifts that we give,

waiting for those great days

when it’s easy to live.

On those weekends so grand

that fulcrum our whole lives,

it takes something quite strong

to give us a surprise.

And it comes in the cloak

of a gift made of time

where the thought that’s put in

is more than any rhyme.

Every fingerprint pressed,

every key swiftly clicked,

every ribbon that’s wrapped

to keep prying eyes tricked.

Sure a speed boat is good

or a ring made of gold,

but there’s more worth in things

that we can’t really hold,

’cause time is running out.

It’s never been a myth,

and this world’s greatest prize

is who we spend it with.