Category Archives: Readin’ & Writin’

This Day to Honor: a poem

This Day to Honor                             


by Joel Howard




with taut days of

Flesh and Exuberance

shall pass but once

and then the senses

but dream in wavy-hazy



a psychic once


a shorting of days

to which I answered by way

of living each hour

as if I alone owned

such a thing









poem: On the Precipice

On the Precipice                   by Joel Howard


Living where

worry wrestles with pain and

chaos rules the hours,

I mightily stretch myself tall, yet

my soul never quite touches earth

now nor never did,

with no belief in tales of wine and water

or bushes afire, I’ve no harbor

anywhere here


Better a children’s book of talking

trees and smiling meadows

flush with bunnies in flight for me,

parables never to stifle a dream

but to launch them far into orbits

beyond our given realms


Leave the tamping menace of guilt

of any kind or measure

in a corner dark and impenetrable,

let wishes periscope to the sky

and find counsel there among

countless stars and moons


All might then rejoice in the breadth

of fantastical creations

and bathe ooh and aah

in knowledge of a

river flush with yet dreamt joys.



poem: Upon My Brother’s Shadow Do I Lean

Upon My Brother’s Shadow Do I Lean

by Joel Howard


I cried out for a better life

for you, and now you’re gone I

lie among tears tattered and worn,

as in grief one languishes in days newly gone,


yet soon a longing eye

is dare cast

to life’s ribbon yet unfurled,

where rest memories never built

and upon uncertainty

dreams echo raw loneliness,

‘til pain insists a return to

that shared past, where


valleys laden with the beckoning vision of silver and gold

sent us young aching for all that is regal and vaulted, as

olden rules and immovable legacy swore upon riches  –

that is the why, that is the how, that is the must  –

to attain an existence worthy,

tangible and tactile, as

upon money all

value rests;


later appeared that startling hour, oh

all is exposed, life’s underbelly

disformed with lies,

possessions announcing

themselves in silent mockery as

poisoned appendages lame from greed,


and tired

adages slide fast

to hollow and passing’s breath;


last, I see that

in your death I may now stand in tears whole,

for in such sorrow was revealed your song,

that I might sing to you my small while

as the syllables of your joy yet

nourish my being.