Trek through a Thought

Through times of unbalance
We stand on weighty scales
Pondering each side
Which wins, which fails
The sun goes down each day
Like an anchor in the sea’s floor
We graciously abide with less, while needing more
Smiles of momentary bliss flow
Though not many deeply know
One reality from another
In the life of a strange mother



Beauty engulfs the darkness
Moonlight from the sun shines at midnight
Death begets life through your words…

Keep writing, Sean.

A profound piece from Mad Poet Enchained…

Mad Poet Enchained

Sean Michael, July 2015

The attrition is steady,
like water running over rocks,
the ebb and flow of a bloody sea,
as I contemplate suicide.
For what good is it:
Inhaling oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide,
breathing my failures.

This place has rotted my core;
there’s not an ounce of good left in me,
not a drop.
For each day I learn to despise myself over again,
as the darkness plays tricks on my eyes,
and the truth nascents lies.

How could this be?
Once so innocent now ragged and torn,
I’m in tatters.
But there will be no mending I’m afraid,
for many a stitch in this endeavor’s been laid,
the filaments now frayed.
No silver lining in this stained cloth,
Just a soul naked without troth.

Posted for  dVerse Poets, Open Link Night #157, October 2, 2015

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Poetry of Hope, with Purple Hues

I have no words…just very happy, peaceful chills. Here is a masterpiece from Ms. Christy Birmingham. ❤

Poetic Parfait

Happy November to you all! May this month recharge your spirit and bring you closer to your goals. x

Here is a poem of hope, of reaching forward. My inspiration came from a beautiful work of art posted atJem Farmer – The Boi PoetBelow is the artwork by Jill Griffin, titled Summer Dawn Haze, so that you can see where I drew my inspiration. Thanks Jem for providing the prompt!

Summer Dawn Haze, by Jill Griffin Summer Dawn Haze, by Jill Griffin

Wooden Hopes

The leaves scatter around her feet as
She stands at the opening to the purple forest,
With a mind full of broken branches.

The woman looks between the violent
Trunks ahead, hoping to find a
Kind thought (or two) between
Her worn wooden hopes.

As she considers stepping forward, her
Face bears the fruit of reluctance, and
She hears a whisper in the wind.

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One side of life is like Heaven – the other side being Hell.

My road to recovery forks into a fog…Right? Left? – I cannot tell.

This mist covers the east – which leads to Eternal Peace Inns & Suites,

So I take a brief detour through the land of Lyrical Sayings and Imagined Beats.

Each resident here looks just like me –

Same swing, same sway, same spirit – music sets us free.

Until the fog clears, I will continue to enjoy my stay –

My box of chocolates may be empty, but truth in words saves the day.

The sun will soon shine on my road – blazing forth as a savage beast unleashed –

This land will have known me as their own…before I pack up and head back east.

The straight and narrow road is not always comfortable – nor is it nice.

Hearts abandoned to be laughed at, scorned, and singular – frozen in lonesome ice.

But this road will forever direct the soul of one whose mind is for right,

Though darkness may surround, engulf, and cause sleepless nights.

With gratefulness each morning, a new day never fails to dawn,

On the lover of truth – making wisdom, understanding, and peace his spawn.

The music never stops, the beats go on, the word forever speaks,

Until that long awaited arrival at Eternal Peace Inns & Suites.

Blog Tour|My Writing Process

Today, I am participating in the My Writing Process Blog Tour. I would like to thank  fellow blogger and friend Freya Pickard for nominating me. Freya, author of fantasy novel Dragonscale Leggings is also an expert haiku creator whose work can be found at


I am currently working on creating my first book of poetry.  This body of work will be constructed by grouping specific pieces together for the purpose of falling under their own categorized genres such as Spiritual, Inspirational, and Societal. The book will be entitled “The Works of Life” and will display everyday ups and downs that we all deal with regardless of our various lifestyles. Many of the pieces found on this blog will be included in the book along with some new ones. Although the book is still a work in progress, I will happily announce the day of publishing here at Brighter Poetics in the near future.

My style of writing comes strictly from the heart and mind. I call myself an emotional writer which is probably why some of my favorite pieces were created during my saddest, happiest,  most confused, and angriest days or nights. A lot of what I write has a dark feel to it, but in the end, there is usually a hopeful light at the end of the tunnel. Another difference in my style of writing is that I don’t always follow a format. You will find that some of my poems have punctuation, and some do not…some have a specific stanza line count, while others don’t, etc. I simply allow what is in me at the time to come out until I have rid myself of whatever emotion I am experiencing at that moment.

My writing is meant to inspire, uplift, and relate to those who struggle and persevere towards the peace and happiness in life that we all seek. Everyone goes through something and some times can prove to be much more difficult than others to come through, but my belief that ‘there is always a way’ is a message that I am adamant about sending out through my work. Writing this way has been my own personal form of therapy, so it is my intent to put words together that may help others to travel their personal paths with strength, integrity, and final victory.

The process that I go through while writing may seem a bit weird, but hey – you do what works. 🙂 First, I start with a brainstorm for a topic granted that I am not experiencing an extreme bout between my emotions and myself (which makes things easier as stated before). Once I have I topic, I will scribble my thoughts on a piece of paper which is usually a bit difficult to go back and read because of the messiness of writing in a rush, but somehow I always manage to decipher. Next, I will decide depending on topic and category whether the poem should have a rhyme scheme or not. Poems without a rhyme scheme seem to be a little easier for me, but I enjoy the rhyme more, so the weirdness comes in with the imaginary beat that I hear in my head. The words come to me, and with my pen, I tap the syllables of each constructed line on the table to make sure that the words go with the beat. Once I can ‘hear’ the lyrical air exuded in the piece due to this weird little tapping method, the editing process begins with more tapping included with each change. These are the poems that usually are not punctuated. It ends up more like an edited freestyle piece, but upon the last bit of editing, I know that the piece is done and a feeling of satisfaction takes over which is my cue to click the publish button.

There, you have it!

Thanks again to Freya Pickard for the invite! 🙂







Change of the Abyss


Long time no read, but hi!! 

I am glad to say that I have enjoyed an actual vacation with my family this summer with a trip to a family reunion in St. Louis, MO and yes – we had an unmitigated ball! Although the trip entailed a lot of planning and work throughout, I have thoroughly enjoyed myself and am back to the drawing board, and back to workin’ it!

It is now Saturday afternoon on July 12, 2014, and I have some words to share today, Yay! I associate this poem with how my writing consistency (sometimes lack thereof) plays out on a regular basis – emphasizing on some time before and immediately after the vacation trip. However, this piece can represent any walk of life for anyone.

I hope you all enjoy!

“Change of the Abyss”

Smile, and the world smiles with you – that’s what they say;

But what about when nothing goes as planned – what about that day?

When apprehension shows up in every place where courage should reside;

What direction leads to home? At what residence is pride?


When at sea, a simple smile is not quite enough – or so it looks;

Breaking chains, leaping bounds, and evading pirating crooks;

This journey can sometimes prove to be an abyss of sheer overwhelm;

While still in search of contentment – my main goal is location of the helm.


Each sailed mile of my life lacks reception of understanding – being clear;

Much like a deep sea urchin, there is no there – nor here,

Very small, long, patient, yet hurried moves towards the initial goal;

When suddenly, my ship sinks into an unending eddy of unfold.


Which way is the way back to the top – afloat?

In which direction should the helm turn to avoid the urchin’s sand-bottomed gloat?

He is so slow, so simple, so content;

He moves – he moves not – he patiently waits – for what is meant.


Until, at last – the time comes to devour;

All in his path – until nothing is left to scour;

Now satiated, and on his way back to the cubbyhole;

Where silent, satisfied stories of fulfillment are proudly told.


Does the urchin smile, or does he breathe a sigh of relief;

From not being caught in the net of regret…grief?

Like a miracle, that once hard to control helm, shall I surely steer;

To and fro from there, ’til at long last – here.


Now, at land ho, I can clearly see;

How a simple smile can make the world smile with me.

For, in spite of apprehension, fear, and  confusion – peace unfolds;

Into the urchin’s revealed story of silent victory, which by mankind – is forever told.






Menstruated Relevance

It’s birth was a self-proclaimed excitement of newness from the very start

But what ejects from the mouth surely comes from the heart

I don’t know if you know that I happen to know

That seeds planted in the moment will flourish and eventually grow

Into a thing expected, but certainly not hoped for

Sometimes, we pray for a disengaged cap-off

Or a magical hinge which closes the door

On negativity, complaints, and unrealistic hopes for

Ungracious favor –  amenities; those things realistically not in store

For you? Me? No!

When unable to take the heat, one must pack up and go

Inside of self to find and oust the true yet vicious culprit

The answer won’t be found inside a gurus spirit, nor a sanctimonious pulpit

The guru needs to breathe and the preacher has his own life

Which is also filled with possessiveness, the God complex, and strife

But as long as I know that I know what I do know

You too can learn this way to evade being tossed to and fro

Through the thick and profuse forest for that very tree

Which stands in your way, though you refuse to humbly look and see


The one and only one who truly understands

The plight of a queen, the fight of a man

Through the blackness of our blood, sweat, and unceasing tears

Though none go with, we remain adhering for years

Coming out and going into the sweltering furnace of death’s hell fire

Toiling, blistering, and carrying the dead weight of an anvil’s desire

There is always an insidious calm before the impending storm

When she is weary, debased, and facing a hope forlorn

It is by pure faith that dreamed hopes will one day be one

Until then, this pillared woman’s work is now done

She patiently waits for that grand day of relief to finally arrive

When menstruated relevance cedes, lays down, and

For the time being




Consummated Arrogance

The anguish of pride is a virginal bride

Willingly walking over  the threshold

Of disaster…

Refusing to be carried through to modesty

For she will have no master


She deserts the purity of humility

Leaving it slain as a permanent stain

Wrapped in defiled marriage bed sheets of deceit

Though the proof is now there

The anguish of pride keeps her blind… unaware


Will she ever learn that her mate will forever yearn

For the pleasure of a true coexistence – with much persistence

Daily longing to kiss her lips and fingertips

While in a strong embrace

Graciously savoring her would be sweet and humble  taste


If only she knew that as the morning dew

Falls and eventually evaporates

So would the anguish of pride

Gently drop…then gradually





The Tempest

The mind knoweth not

Where the heart doth go

As a lovesick breeze of eagerness

Carries it to and fro


Having no knowledge of where or why

That former blissful wind came

The mind is not at fault

Only life is to blame


For this tumultuous storm rising

Leaving sheer destruction in its path

And a desperate longing for peace

To replace that which razed from wrath


Whilst shards of glass crumble

Under thy very feet

Thou too dost tread

Upon reconstructable debris


Forgiveness is an everlasting mortar

Well mending fragments of a broken heart

The mind now knoweth whence it came

And surely now, where to start



In the Heart of…


It resides in meaningful places, but

Empty facades of what could have been –

Yet cannot be are strained from

The solidity of


Preferring the brilliant glow of

Honesty, but facing


From the other side of the

Facts of


Wandering aimlessly…searching for


In one’s own

Reality – suddenly

A loud shout from the


Brings fruition



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