Leah and Rachel

Leah is plain

Her tired eyes crinkle with joy

Changing in shape

As they travel with grace across

Jacob’s face

Deemed second place,

The bitterness towards Rachel

Simmers in her heart

Causing a ceaseless burning sensation in her chest

Inhaling and exhaling



Leah is ordinary

Her soft hands crave Jacob’s skin

Desiring to feel the passion that pours from his lips

When he calls for Rachel

When he calls her name

His voice rings through Leah’s ears

Surely reaching the heavens

And creating a new spiritual realm


Leah is simple

Only praying to serve the one

She was told to marry

And carry his babies in her womb

At least this is a gift

And a battle won

To shun Rachel

By birthing more children

But a war of love

Leah will never be the one


Ahab’s Delusion

He loved her so much

He would follow Jezebel

Straight to hell

He would cover his feet

With her fake shiny hair and eyelashes

To protect his flesh from the wicked fire

Allowing the synthetic strings to melt into his skin

He loved her so much

He ignored how much she loved herself

How she fell in love with her own reflection

And the way her siren voice

Rippled through the air

Latching onto any weak man nearby

He loved her so much

He forgot her appearance was temporary

And imagined a life with her as an immortal

She would never grow old

And would always be perfect

He loved her so much

He embraced the turmoil

Caused by other men loving her

Promising he would be the last one standing

There would be no regrets

He loved her so much

He followed Jezebel

Straight to hell

Lost himself in the heat of the moment

Because of her curves

Because of her curse

Because she loved herself



I follow your lead, watching you

Guide me through a dark maze

Stumbling on thickets of roses

With large thorns and prickly stems

I bleed

Dew drops of confusion

I’m lost in your twisted labyrinth

Certain your heart will never be found

And your soul will never return

The Sun and the Moon

The crescent moon weeps

Droplets of tears rain down her craters

Moistening the dry cracks in her deep valleys


The sun grins

Indifferent and distant to her

Laughing and chatting to wisps of clouds

Shimmering through his glorious rays


The moon swells hoping to become full again
To shine her light without his vibrant gaze


My grandfather never chose slavery

It was either working as a janitor

Or becoming homeless

Never feeding his children and wife

His goals and dreams

If he had them, haunted him like nightmares at night

And to ease the aches

There was always a beer can by his side

But he didn’t choose his life

He didn’t choose the ghetto

Or the poor education

He damn sure didn’t choose the constant discrimination

Because of his skin and blood

He sunk down because of his lack knowledge of the world

and even himself

Only a pawn in the system

Temporarily escaping this prison on Earth

By playing dominoes at the park

With a van full of beer

That he did chose to drink

But he never chose slavery from another option

Since money was his savior

Slavery was the only choice

Eve’s Story

A piece of fruit touched her lips

Knowledge of good and evil poured from the tips

The morsel may eclipse her existence

Should she trust a snake she barely met

Rebel and revel in enlightenment?

With no thought process or deeper consideration

She sunk her teeth in without hesitation

And lost all innocence with one huge bite

Her eyes absorb only black and white

A searing pain soars through her side

Now she knows what suffering feels like

Since misery loves company

She turns to him, full of animosity

And offers a small slice.

Pastel: The Hidden Creative

“I’ll steal some bread while I’m at it,” I mumble again, a little taken back by my courage today.

Crackling twigs prompts me to halt. Hiding behind a tree, Premethius’s statue and the promenade are visible from where I’m standing. Two horsemen stand with coconut mouth guards hanging around their necks. Rolling my eyes, I watch them chatting about a few yards away.

‘”Stupid, twits,” I say under my breath, disgusted they were guarding near the glen.

Sighing, I press my hands up against the bark of the tree. I narrow my eyes at the horsemen, unsure of how to distract them. One of the horsemen picks at a piece of food lodged in his grisly red beard and then eats the morsel. The other twit, I mean horseman snorts mucus and then spits slimy snot on the grass. Gagging, I cover my mouth to muffle the noise. My soul nearly leaps out of my body when I hear bells clanging in the promenade. Someone must have broken a law. Impossible. Everyone is in the Arborituary today. The two horsemen scramble to the promenade to catch the law breaker. Probably a creative. My body shakes with doubt. Maybe this isn’t the best day to steal paper. Even though my mind tells me to run back to my birch tree, my heart says keep going. Racing forward to hide behind another tree, my heart wins. As my feet hit the cobblestone of the promenade, I hide behind a treehouse that says, Sheyenne Sioux’s Medicine.

The sound of heavy stomping sweeps past me. Horsemen gallop towards the Arborituary. The law breaker must be heading in that direction.

“This is a lot of work for paper,” I whisper, but I know the thrill of being outside of my tree is worth it.

Moving across the promenade, I slowly peer from side to side.

“How odd, they even stopped ringing the bells.” I whisper again, walking into the middle of the promenade near Premethius’s statue. The wooden tree man statue stood erect in the center of town with his haughty chin pointing up to the clouds. His hands rested on his hips as if he completed an intriguing story and expected applause in return. Shaking my head, I walk past Premethius’s statue towards Grant’s Grocer which is a couple of feet away. Placing my hand on the tree knob of Grant’s Grocer, I push the door to check if its locked.

“Whoever you are, stop before the horsemen seize you.”

I pivot around to find out where the voice is coming from.