Poetry Corner – “Unbreakable”


You walk with that stride
That says you won’t take too kind
To someone jerking you around
But then she comes along
With the one thing that shakes you from the inside

Don’t try to be so hard
You’re not unbreakable
You shouldn’t be so scared
The truth is all we have to bear
Don’t think I’m so fragile
But sometimes I’m breakable, too

You’ve got your armor
Like you’ve played one’s shining knight
More times than the sky’s seen light
And she comes along
With that one thing that makes you want to fight
Once more, just for her

I’ve stood the polite distance to give you privacy
Working on the logic that keeps me from lunacy
You’ve got ghosts and I’ve my own, no lie
But why does she have to matter so much this time?

Don’t try to linger too long
You’re not unbreakable
You should be more wary
She will use you with no caring
Don’t think I’m so fragile
But sometimes I’m breakable, too

Don’t be so hard, don’t linger
Don’t be so scared, be wary
Don’t think I’m so fragile

I can be strong
But not for very long

Poetry Corner – “Janus”


A man stands on the edge of yesterday and tomorrow
To his eye these ruins are grossly incomplete;
From his mind, this is quite not what he divined;
A god of his own world professed he to be–
Greatness was not built in an instant, mon ami!
What gift we better given than time?
Nothing comes until Fate summons it forth
And fits snugly into the tapestry of our existence;
Bitterness sours the supple mind
That takes us through those open doors

So battle that sentiment! Axe it if you will.
Living never comes without obstacle,
Nothing wondrous was won with wondering.

Midnight Moon – “A Gifted Christmas” Scene Two

To all of you out there, I hope you have had a restful Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday!

Don’t dread going back to the norm too much, and I’ll try not to as well 🙂



Sophia Flannery, better known as Sophie, peered at the adults before her. She barely knew them; this event marked the first time the thirteen-year-old had seen all of them since she entered the world in a hospital in Asteria, blessed by the Crown Princess. Judging from what her world had taught her, the people that formed this group were diverse and precious.

The aforementioned Princess now stood at her twin’s elbow, fighting to calm the nerves that Miyori Arashi made awry. Aurora Sanford, Sophie knew, possessed a strength of mind that rivaled a monk; from the whispers, the furtive looks in certain directions, Sophie figured something had sent her off-stride that went deeper than a parlor trick from the resident magician.

The rest of the adults continued the dinner preparations; Moira-Selene Thomas, her lifesaving talents momentarily unnecessary, laid out the silverware with unerring precision. Megami Takumi Hill, radiant in green sheath dress aimed to make Jamie Cook, her date, drool (and certain others burn with jealousy), arranged the table decorations with panache. Sophie’s eyes swept over them and did not stop until she spied Daniella Thomas holding two wineglasses by their stems in one hand and gesticulating with the other. Kaneshi Tsukimori appeared to be the other person in this exchange but held up his end rather poorly. He seemed distracted. He and Aurora both?

“A pretty girl like you does not need to be thinking this heavily at such a moment.”

The melodic voice of her aunt Bridget resembled the presence of the Gifted Nine in its rarity; ever since Bridget suffered the loss of her husband–Sophie’s uncle–she flirted with the outskirts of familial attention; she visited sporadically and never lingered. That made her touch on Sophie’s shoulder ever the more precious.

“I’m just wondering is all,” Sophie responded idly.

“Wondering what, my sweet?”

“Why they’re so sad. It’s Christmas. They should all at least be stumbling around on spiked eggnog.”

Sometimes Bridget forgot her niece’s level of perception; so long had she endeavored to protect Sophie that she had neglected to prepare her for the dissolution of her innocence. She hadn’t had time to prepare herself.

Bridget followed Sophie’s olive green gaze. Ah, she mused. She knew the shadow hanging in the background of this scene–she could almost see the flash of black hair so dark it was blue.

“As much as I wish I could explain to you,” Bridget murmured, “you’ll understand more than I would like by the time the night is over.”

Before Sophie could implore her aunt to elaborate, Isabelle entered the room, blanketing everyone in her gentle peace. Samantha, Gretchen, and Melanie tiptoed in behind her all carrying side dishes, while Miyori stumbled into the room with more than a few battle lumps and the inanimate ham. Jessica escaped virtually unscathed–status quo for the Warrior.

“I believe it’s time to eat,” Isabelle announced.

In the back of the room, the aforementioned Detective Michael O’Lara held up a bottle of wine. “And drink,” he added, earning a few chuckles.

As hostess, Isabelle only sat when her guests were seated; she initiated the passing of the food and only received when everyone else had a helping. She smiled at the exultation expressed over plates; her smile only dimmed when she noticed subtle signs of suffering.

Her gazed locked with Bridget’s. Not yet.

“So Mo’s gonna be the DD tonight, right?” Eric teased Mick.

“Believe it or not, I can hold my liquor better than some,” Mick rejoined. His light eyes flicked in Moira-Selene’s direction.

“I cannot help that my post graduate education did not include Keg Standing 101,” Moira-Selene quipped. “I believe drinking is a pasttime better partaken in the privacy of one’s own home. Men are gentler devils under their own roofs.”

“Sometimes I don’t know if it’s coming out of her ass or if she’s quoting Shakespeare,” Danie remarked, already on a second glass of wine. Jessica rolled her eyes.

“All right, gemelas,” Isabelle chided. “It’s Christmas. Save the quarrelling for Boxing Day.”

Danie leveled a jesting violet stare upon her twin. “At midnight I’m coming after you with a Nerf bat.”

“That’s if you can find me.”

Danie sat back abruptly with revelation, eyes dancing. “Oh hermana–are you staying at Mick’s tonight?” She whistled bawdily, making her sister blush.

Gretchen sipped on wine. “Good thing someone’s getting some.”

Samantha frowned. “Gretch, I don’t know why you’re complaining. I know you’ve been having fun with your–” Samantha bit off the rest of her sentence; she could feel the phantom kick from Isabelle. Sophie watched her intently.

“Your floatation device,” Samantha finished lamely.

Megami giggled. “I love when they’re waterproof!” Evident it was then what Jamie gave her for Christmas.

Despite themselves, the adults engaged in mildly mischievous conversation; Sophie, so observant of the looks that passed between her mother and aunt, hardly noticed the subject matter.

Finally, after the meat had nearly been reduced to bones, Bridget gave a nod and rose from her seat.

When she returned, she hefted a canvas framed in gilt that nearly dwarfed her. Conversations dropped off as the attention fell upon this new occupant.

“I know we agreed not to exchange gifts,” Bridget said to the quiet room, “but I believe we can make an exception for this one.” Her hazel eyes hovered on the solemn man before her. “Kane?”

Kane looked up, dark eyes wide and slightly startled. He could barely speak as Bridget presented him with the painting done by his late sister’s hand. The colors sizzled with their warmth. The touch of the artist was deft, showing skill along with care. The movement of the two figures conveyed a pause in combat, the climax of a man and woman sparring: the searing of the man’s left ring finger and the golden eyes betraying the show of power.

“It’s called The Marking,” Bridget explained.

Danie placed a hand over her heart. “The day in Victoria Field when we fought…”

“Where–?” Kane choked out.

“She asked me to keep it for her,” Bridget responded. “It’s been in a storage unit this whole time. I found it two weeks ago.” Kane raised his eyes to hers. “It’s yours, Kane. I know you’ve been missing her lately.”

Kane nodded silently, awed by his gift from the sister thought he had long lost. After a moment, he murmured, “Arigatou gozaimasu.”

After a beat: “Could someone explain what the hell is going on?” From Mick O’Lara.

Moira-Selene all but smacked her own forehead.

Laughter entered again as Angelia, who had been supervising at the time, attempted to explain the context of the picture. Blushing glances passed in-between Kane and Danie; some of the heaviness in his heart had disappeared and it showed in his eyes. Even Aurora seemed a little lighter.

Sophie understood, wrapped up in that moment, the spirits of Christmas and Sakura Tsukimori were vital in this room, and they were as welcome as life.

Midnight Moon – “A Gifted Christmas” Scene One

“A Gifted Christmas”


Bedlam had descended, and it was armed with tinsel, turkey and stuffing.

In the kitchen of the normally calm house that Isabelle Flannery usually called home, Jessica Thomas stood frowning at the gravy she stirred with a wooden spoon. So deep she existed in her contemplation that she hardly noticed her younger brother peering over her shoulder.

Muttering under her breath about viscosity, Jessica grabbed a measuring cup full of water–just a yelp sounded from the dining room. Whirling toward the clamor, she nearly back-handed her brother and the water sloshed in the cup. Luckily, Eric’s reflexes almost matched her own–or he would have been on his way to the emergency room.

“Dammit–” Jessica began.

“Please don’t kill me,” Eric pleaded. “I was just checking on dinner. Do you need any help?”

Jessica pursed her lips together. “Let me guess. Miyori sent you in here.”

Eric shrugged. “I came on my own. You wouldn’t maim family would you?” A growl was Jessica’s response. At this point, who could be sure of anything, especially fratricide?

A crash preceded the hasty emergence of the man in question with three angry females hot on his heels. Narrowing her eyes, Jessica pulled out her cache of super-quick reflexes and did her allies a favor. Within a blink, Miyori lay on the tile, staring dumbfounded at the ceiling.

Samantha Dunne cheered. The windows rattled at the outburst of energy. “Hell fucking yeah, Jess! I knew you were always my favorite cousin.”

Beside her, Gretchen, Jessica’s little sister, pouted. “Hey, I thought I was your favorite cousin.”

“Not since you’ve got that dubstep shit stuck in my head,” Samantha retorted. This time Gretchen only fumed.

Miyori sucked in a breath before rising; his collision with the floor had been rather abrupt and highly uncomfortable. “I’ll have you know that I hardly deserve such treatment. The reports of my so-called shenanigans are highly exaggerated.”

Melanie Smith crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip to the side. “So says the asshole who decides to turn the tinsel into a snake while we’re putting it on the tree. I really oughta kick you right now and let you bleed!”

“I thought Mo was going to have to do CPR on poor Aurora,” Gretchen added.

Faced with the discomfort of his beloved princess, Eric punched Miyori in the shoulder. “What the hell, man?”

Miyori put his hands up in a gesture of defense. “It wasn’t poisonous. I don’t know what they’re so mad about. It wouldn’t have bitten anyone.”

“That’s hardly the point,” Gretchen said. “I don’t think it would sit well with anyone if their Christmas decorations metamorphosed into a slithery, hissing thing.”

“Real talk,” Samantha agreed.

A timer dinged; Jessica disentangled herself from the scene momentarily to extract the ham from the oven. Miyori stepped forward–only to meet with Jessica’s fist. Unlike Eric’s blow, this one had him staggering a few steps.

“What?” Jessica blinked innocently, all the while balancing the pan in one hand. “It was just a little punch.”

Glowering, Miyori’s mouth twitched; a split second later, the meat blinked up at the bemused cook and let out a distinctive oink.

Jessica’s eyes widened. She thrust the squealing dinner into her little sister’s arms and dived for the already moving Illusionist.

“What is going on in here?” Isabelle asked, looking every bit the part of the Mother with her long black curls unbound framing an expression of exasperation.

Melanie shook her head. “Miyori turned the tinsel into a snake, we chased him in here, and he turned the ham from cooked to spooked. Now Jessica’s pissed at him.”

As Samantha cheered on the beatdown and Gretchen chewed on her lip with the pan in her arms (the animated ham squirming all the while), Isabelle sighed. Why had she volunteered to host Christmas dinner at her house this year? Dios Mio!

Isabelle rubbed her temples, a tension headache beginning to form. “I think we may need to start dinner before someone dies.”

“No worries,” Melanie retorted. “If she kills him we can hide him in her wine cellar. No one will even notice he’s gone until after New Year’s. He won’t even be sober until then.”

No one is committing murder under my roof–especially not while I have one of Gracia’s finest sitting with a Guinness in my living room.” Stride full of purpose, Isabelle picked up the measuring up full of water and dashed it on the dueling duo.


When they peered at her incredulously, fighting instincts to attack, she turned on her best hostess grin. “Time for dinner!”

Awed, Gretchen muttered, “Now why didn’t we think of that?”



Poetry Corner – “Façade”

I have put on too many faces
Guises to fool everyone on the outside
I’ve got a costume for every demeanor
However I feel when the wind shifts direction
When the charade ends I draw the curtain
Stumble back into the solitude I know for certain
The only thing that ensures my serenity
Too many say they know the real me
But in reality, none of them know a thing

Poetry Corner – “Receive/Give”


He presents a present–a contradiction!
What shall we think of thoughtful gesture?
And she pleaded for nothing, bemused reception;
The meaning of this–shall we find our scope?
Underneath the glass lurks from your vantage
View however you see it–torn by warring sentiments;
So rare an object should not be wasted 
On a companion of little worth–
Ah, but this is not of weight, of consequence!
Merely left over, something he happened to have–
Can’t you see friends, it is hardly more than trifle!
Do not raise your hopes, he’d soon give it to a stranger;
And that she assures herself with the reaction
That she should not lack in generosity.
‘Tis the season for such demonstration,
So she shall partake in the mimicry, fretting
That her offering will suffer ridicule in his regard
And fear that she is making a tower out of a toothpick house.


Poetry Corner – “If You Go”

“If You Go”

If you go
I’ll let you fly
Won’t stand in the way
Because you were never mine

If you go
I might cry
But when you glance at me
Mirth will shine in my eyes

Who has time to be lonely?
To lament
On time spent
I’d rather live

If you go
I’ll pack your socks
To calm the chaos
Ensure nothing’s lost

If you go
I’ll wish you well
Because you’ll be precious
No matter where you dwell

Why make a wish on a star?
They twinkle there
Without a care
I’d rather live

Poetry Corner – “They Were Babies”

No one can take glory in the death of a child.

I have an eight-year-old brother and a three-year-old goddaughter, and I, like countless others in this world, was horrified to hear about what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary. As the caregiver of a child at one time, I cannot imagine what it would have been like to fear that your precious child was murdered. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to have been told the horrifying news. I can’t imagine what it would have been like for the law enforcement personnel to have to care for those sweet little children and the brave adults who tried to preserve them postmortem. I can only hope tragedies like this can be prevented in a lasting manner so no more parents have to bury their little ones.


“They Were Babies”

For the ones we lost and the ones we have

Grief hangs heavy, a pall in the cold
Questions rend the air with nowhere to land
The cherished ones can offer no insight
Because their worldview was awash in purity
They were babies, so they will never know

The coroner gives his remarks, thick with emotion
No one can quite bear the sight
Of little ones marred in senselessness
What they could have been haunts the macrocosm
They were babies, so we will never know

Teddy bears sit in vigil, dolls pose disconsolately
Parents stare at the places they occupied
Hearing the phantom echo of their laughs down the hall
Wondering how the next generation would have emerged

They were babies, so they will never know

He curls into me, wanting security
If ever came that moment
I stood between him and Death I would fight
So that he would walk in my stead
He is a baby, but not forever I hope

She tugs on my sleeve, wanting a story
I assure her the monsters are gone
And yet, they are out there and I have fibbed
So she could walk in sunshine and not fear
Because she is a baby, and I never, ever want her to know

Inner Bitch Moment – “(Do) What I Want”

Ah hell–he unleashed a monster and didn’t even realize it.

A friend of mine sent me an article to read regarding the gender inequality in the hard sciences. If you all did not know this about me, I will reveal it now: I am a feminist. Once upon a time, in that mental garden I call undergrad, I was a Women’s Studies minor. I consider myself appreciative of science and math as well as liberal arts (which will probably incite that whole conundrum of whether or not I should have gotten my Bachelor’s in Science). I don’t believe women are better than men. We should be equal.

But who has time for a rant? 🙂


You say I fail the test
Cite my sensibility
But if you don’t give me a go
I doubt your credibility

Bump your anatomy
There is no academy
That says I can’t do what I want

Mama didn’t work on her hands and knees
So you could treat me how you please

The tool will fit
No matter the size of the hand
But you say I should be baking
Leave the heavy to a man

Screw the status quo
There is no mold
That says I can’t do what I want

My foremothers didn’t stand on the steps
So you could pass and say I did my best