Intruder

They slither in, unbidden, unrestrained,

Whispers sharp as glass, their echoes ingrained.

A shadowed chorus, looping, unkind,

Planting weeds in the garden of my mind.

They bloom in silence, their roots run deep,

Stealing solace, unsettling sleep.

A maze of whispers, no clear way out,

Each seed of doubt grows into a shout.

But in the stillness, I plant my own tree,

Roots of resilience, branches of me.

Against their storm, I learn to stand tall,

A voice of my own to quiet it all.

Porter Pfrenger is a 26 year old poet and writer from Arkansas. He lives with his two partners, their two kids, and an amount of animals on a small homestead. Outside of writing, he enjoys crocheting and singing Broadway musicals with his family.

Loneliness vs. solitude

Loneliness whispers, a hollowed-out tune,

A shadow that lingers beneath the moon.

But solitude hums like a river’s flow,

A quiet companion where wisdom grows.

Loneliness claws with an aching need,

Its hunger devours, it plants no seed.

But solitude blooms in the heart’s still space,

A garden of peace, a soft embrace.

Loneliness cries for a voice to hear,

A hollow echo, sharp and near.

Yet solitude listens to the soul's own song,

A melody steady, where you belong.

Loneliness traps like a cage unseen,

Its bars of silence cold and mean.

But solitude frees with its open air,

A sanctuary found when you dare to care.

Porter Pfrenger is a 26 year old poet and writer from Arkansas. He lives with his two partners, their two kids, and an amount of animals on a small homestead. Outside of writing, he enjoys crocheting and singing Broadway musicals with his family.

Let’s All Walk To Sunshine!

I’m gonna take a walk,

Don’t have no time to play around.

I’m gonna take a walk

People,

I gotta be where prosperity is still found.

I gonna take a walk,

Don’t have no time to frolic

Or for small talk.

I don’t like it but I fear I’m

Big city bound.

Yeah,

I’m not crazy about living in

Any over sized town.

Most I’ve been to are filled with way too many

Plastic people and silly misfit clowns.

I’m gonna shut this cabin door,

Sweet Sunshine here I come!

I’m gonna go where there are pots of gold,

Hey

Sweet Sunshine here I come!

I’m gonna weld and shoe shine for good trade

And get me some!

At least there

I can turn a profit before I’m old.

Sunshine is where the tig-bitties live,

It’ll be a great big bouncin’ party parade!

Sunshine is where them monster tig-bitties live,

I feel when I get there I’ll truly have it made!

I hear

I can find an acre of’ em to wallow around in

‘Neath a creekside black oak shade.

In Sunshine

We’ll have plenty of good ole mountain dew,

Come on now and let’s all go grab us a jug!

In Sunshine

They say we’ll have plenty of good ole mountain dew,

So let’s all go and pull us a plug!

We’ll all go sit around and sip

While them over- blessed beauties

Bounce around in their birthday skin,

And I promise I’ll try hard not to sin.

H.L. Dowless is a thirty five year writer who loves travel, exploring, and living life on the edge.