Is it an artistic block or am I simply uninspired? Is it possible for the creative juices to simply dry up without warning? I have done some writing this year, and been published in a handful of places. Likewise, my work with sound has been limited this year as well.

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Poet, teacher and former Washington State poet laureate.

Signing Books At The Speed of High Speed Rail! October 16, 2013. And I will make that happen.

Sunday, July 26, 2015. A Tiny Stab to the Heart. In a flash at a stop sign,. I saw your passing car and your turned head. Doing double takes while I sit and watch. You drive on, a sad acceptance. For your sullen passenger seat. Subconsciously my fingertips touch the car window. In a half hearted wave hello,. Or trace the outline of your shoulders.

Fourteen Principles for Creative Writers. Pay attention not only to the cultivation of knowledge but to the cultivation of qualities of the heart, so that at the end of education, not only will you be knowledgeable, but also you will be a warm-hearted and compassionate person. His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. Author photo by Jennifer Snoek-Brown. Samuel Snoek-Brown is the author of. A novel from Columbus Press. A chapbook of flash fiction,.

I cannot stand, nor walk or fly. Only collide in my barren yard. In stunned moments of clarity. Soil still clutched in my hands. Taste this despair and wormwood. Still bitter on my tongue; I bruise my flesh. On bark, dead roots and cold abuse. Fragile as a pressed oak leaf.

I will be sharing thoughts, poetry, short stories, and notes from some of my favorite books. April 5, 2012 by Kimberley. The innards of my soul. Tears pierced, fury bridled. The innards of my soul. Hope floundered, Grace grasped. Above your door, there is a task. Hope floundered, Grace grasped. Faded blue, trimmed yellow. Above your door, there is a task. Faded blue, trimmed yellow. One less, love lost.

Christmas Song, Poetry Mash-up, Gleefully Snow-Bound. The home where Snow-Bound takes place is today preserved and open to the public as the John Greenleaf Whittier Homestead. Again, I am returning to an older post from Christmas past today, with a few editing adjustments. I still love this song, and I want to go snuggle now with Brian while we read this poem.