The Thinking Read

The Thinking Read

Haiku Poetry Book Reviews Essays *all of them

Welcome to “The Thinking Read”

You’ll find essays on a variety of topics from mental health to politics. Quite a few book reviews are thrown in for good measure. There is a poem or two hiding around here somewhere and stalking the wild haiku is a regular occurence. Not all the writings are serious. Some of them can be downright comical… or, at least, my attempts can be comical.

To paraphrase Papa –

Writing is easy. All you have to do is sit down and bleed.

Ernest Hemingway
poetry Quiet Grace

Quiet Grace

Grace walks a tip toe, andis by nature a quiet soul, notinclined to boastful words. Grace speaks loudestwhere no words are found,in the embrace,in comfort given,in peace and even, yes,in defense of the vulnerable. Grace is gentle, but never mistakethat for weakness. Because it is only gracethat dares to walk…

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The Power of the Eight

The Power of the Eight by Suzanne Rho is one of those books that improves after the fact. If that sounds like I am damning it with faint praise – hold on – I’m not. As I initially read the story I found it enjoyable. It’s the kind of read…

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A Brief Ode to 2020

The one thing certainAbout all this uncertaintyIs that all our certaintyIs now certainly uncertain. And that The only thing certain Is uncertainty. That much is certainly certain.

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Single candle

Bone Deep

We were never meant to carryThe shame that goes bone-deepfor any reason,for every reason,for no reason. It is not ours to keep.

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Poetry - the bingo factory - complex ptsd


So many symptomsLaid outAll grid-like Oh, I see It’s a game.I never chose to playbut I playnone-the-less. Here’s a cardTake the markersFill the boxesMake a lineCan you fill itCan you feel it. Every card’s a winnerEvery card’s a loser. Check off those boxesFill them with glowing neonMark it if you…

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beginning writer writing

The Beginning Writer: ah, humility

I am here at my desk taking big calming breaths as I look at a mountain. A figurative mountain, but still it is impressive and daunting in its size for a beginning writer. I have to climb it. It’s not a question of do I want to or do I…

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At twenty I stood Upon the thresholdTo my lifeAnd I thoughtWell, maybe next year. At thirty I stoodUpon the thresholdTo my lifeAnd I thought Did I leave the stove on? At fourty I stoodUpon the thresholdTo my lifeAnd I thought I should stay, for Dad. At fifty I stoodUpon the…

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Heavy raindrops fallSplashing on my glassesBlinding me to all. Michael takes awayThe lenses that warp my sightWith a tender kiss. Giving me shelterFrom the chaos of my pastI cling to his strength His oak to my ivy. His sun to my rain.

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