I Hear Your Name
I hear your name, The softness of it. In dark hours When I and my restless wandering Are breached by still waters. I see your face And follow it. Sense your lim...
Author: Brad Severance
During the day, I develop websites using the latest technologies. At night, I write fiction. I bake gingerbread cookies, too.
That’s Her
That’s her. That is her. Time doesn’t spoil the spirit. It cracks the cocoon That is her body open. That’s her. That is her. The wind won̵...
Year 2015 365 Photo Journey (Feb. 1st – Feb. 8th)
I spent Saturday in Columbus, IN, and Sunday in Nashville, IN and Bloomington, IN. For a winter weekend, the weather was marvelously warm. I’m pleased to ...
And Now I Remember
And now I remember. It’s like the first breath. Past troubled lives. Over shards of painted idols roughly hewn By a dumb craftsman. I’m with you now...
Lunchtime Poetry
Wash it all away. Into the quiet … Hush. I stand before my God. What else was I seeking?
Six Word Memoir For the Past Six Months
It was fun. Then it wasn’t.
Lunchtime Poetry
A train passes, cries. Sobbing new life throbs within once quiet hills.
Year 2015 365 Photo Journey (Jan. 28th – Jan. 31st)
Apparently, this is a thing. Consider it a challenge, a journal, or a journey (I prefer journey). Take a picture a day and post it to your blog. Here are some r...
Lunchtime Poetry
Geese tread icy waters. They don’t shiver, But I think they’re cold. Their little brains cannot plumb Man’s artifice. But neither can Man. &nb...
Lunchtime Poetry
Rain falls. Even these words are wet and soaking. A fog rises and obsures the past. The crust of past experience. But sometimes I remember how it used to be.