Tag Archives: poem

Escape Artist


 Escape Artist

Manifestations of manipulation

A simple lock and key

Entangled in contemplation

Zealous to be free

Trapped, locked up tight in satanic devices

Taking God-given desires, shifting them to vices

But an escape artist am I

Slippery, silent and slick

No knot I can’t untie

No lock I cannot pick

Pinned, bound up fast in your misinterpretation

Trying to find my freedom from the exclusive alienation

Contortions of body, heart and mind

Flexing, bending my way loose

The exit not so hard to find

When you already know the ruse

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Posted by on October 10, 2014 in From the Desk of the Author


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We are the only creatures on earth that have an intrinsic understanding of our own demise. We know that we are going to die. Death. The word carries with it an enigmatic chill that conjures thoughts of skulls and such. Yet death is the true constant that links us all. Rather you fear it or seek it out, death will embrace us all. So why do we, who know that we will not endure, ,try so hard? Why do we pour the precious little time we have into jobs and relationships that we will ultimately leave behind? Why try so hard? Why try at all? I don’t think it is giving up on hope, but simply and admittance of my own mortality. I will die. I have loved the way I wanted to love. I have been a friend. When I die, I will linger for a time in the memories of those I love. I will manifest in the occasional tear that may rim the eyes of those precious few. But time will dim the memory and dry the eyes as my presence fades.

A swirling mist of doubt I feel
That chills me to the bone
No matter the joy life brings us
We all face death alone

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Posted by on September 23, 2014 in Penn's Diary


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William Blake


William Blake may very well be my favorite author/poet/artist. His works are inspiring and thought provoking. His religious beliefs, which rely mainly on a relationship with the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and seem to conflict with the structural confines of the church, fall closely in line with my own. However, it is his relationship with his wife that most endears me to the man. They loved each other in a true and deep manner, which seemed to transcend this earth and our short lives on it. This is the manner in which I want to love.

One of my favorite paintings of his, The Ghost of a Flea, seems to show a sort of vampiric creature that he claims to have seen in his dreams.


He also wrote the Songs of Innocence and the Songs of Experience, which clearly show the difference that perception can make in one’s life.

He was petitioned to do paintings for Dante’s Inferno, but died while working on these pieces.


Here is my favorite of Blake’s poems

poison tree


Posted by on March 11, 2014 in From the Desk of the Author


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New Premise for the Kraken’s Wake



My schooling is making it very hard to post the kind of short stories I would like. So, I plan on sharing with all of you my dealings with school as well as my pictures and stories (as I can write them). My hope is that, by sharing my experiences, I can somehow help or inspire someone else.

My goal is to become a high school English teacher. It would be nice to also attempt to coach a sport of some sort while I am teaching, but this not a necessity.

Join me as this journey takes a new path.


Posted by on July 11, 2013 in From the Desk of the Author


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O’ Moon

O’ Moon

Wondrous parasite

Making a name for yourself

By using the light of another

But you have done well so far

For we look upon you with wonder

You conjure within us

Hope, in the darkest of night

Lovers gaze upon you

With romantic lunacy

All the while you remain

An inconsistent reflection

Of what you can never be

O’ Moon

Most clever satellite

Magnificent farce

I admire you still


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A God-given niche of refuge, a solace to reflect

The inner walls are mirrored, acceptance or neglect?

Silken strands of doubt and fear embrace my pupal state

Forced to face my faults and flaws, to identify my fate

Alone here in my solitary shell, my eyes stare back at me

I see my wings unfurling, and what I’m meant to be

The new me is so different, so fresh yet I remain

I find my cocoon affable, the outside could and vain

Parts of me still inside, yet fractions broken free

Never seeming to complete the metamorphosis of me

I find too many still trapped in their cocoons

And I have yet to spread my wings

We are all in unique stages

Of the shift aurelia brings


Posted by on May 15, 2013 in Penn's Diary


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Lamentations of a Snowman (upon the dawning of Spring)


I can see it clearly now

Truth before my coal black eyes

The acceptance of mortality

The realization of my demise

I grasp for a solution

With these simple twig-like arms

Only a broom to shade the sun

And the stinging way it warms

If I could find a magic hat

To keep me safe for all my days

I could defy the stinging sun

And tap dance in its rays

Stranger things have happened

I can’t trust in magic though

I long to trust in anything

A desperate dying man of snow

I can find no shelter from it

The worst pain I’ve ever felt

Does no one sense my torment

As I slowly start to melt

Why am I created

Then left to simply die

Why am I alive at all

Why? I ask you, why?

I can see it clearly now

Truth before my coal black eyes

The acceptance of mortality

The realization of my demise


Posted by on April 17, 2013 in From the Desk of the Author, Penn's Diary


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Henry Game

The Next Testament


Illustrator, Childen's writer, New Yorker


Blog of artist Dean Scheppel

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Rolling the dice. Writing the words. Pushing the buttons. Eating the bacon. Smiling and waving.


A blog for kids (and everyone else) who love dragons.

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know your roll

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My head is full of words...

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Fragments of a vast new world, the writing journey, and book reviews.

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Fear me, he who fails at most endeavours in a flashy and horrifying manner!


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Poetry, stories, role-playing, and ramblings.


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All about gaming, from video to D&D (and other RPGS) to board games.

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Creating magic on the page and in the world

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Stories... Art... Life

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The things that make the world go round

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An exercise in narcissism


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Tech, Art, Music, and Books, that's life.