First off—thank you to everyone who shared. That takes courage. A few gentle thoughts that might help as you keep writing: • Write honest before you write clever. If a line is true, we’ll forgive it for not being perfect. • Let one feeling drive the poem. You can have many ideas, but choose one emotion to carry the weight. • Images work best when they serve the feeling. Ask yourself: Does this image deepen the moment, or distract from it? • Endings matter. A strong ending doesn’t explain, it lands. If you feel the echo after the last line, you’re there. • Read your poem out loud. Your ear will catch what your eyes miss every time. Poetry doesn’t have to follow rules, but intention makes it powerful. Keep writing. Keep sharing. This is real work.

First off—thank you to everyone who shared. That takes courage. A few gentle thoughts that might help as you keep writing: • Write honest before you write clever. If a line is true, we’ll forgive it for not being perfect. • Let one feeling drive the poem. You can have many ideas, but choose one emotion to carry the weight. • Images work best when they serve the feeling. Ask yourself: Does this image deepen the moment, or distract from it? • Endings matter. A strong ending doesn’t explain, it lands. If you feel the echo after the last line, you’re there. • Read your poem out loud. Your ear will catch what your eyes miss every time. Poetry doesn’t have to follow rules—but intention makes it powerful. Keep writing. Keep sharing. This is real work.

I’ve had a few people ask if I offer 1:1 poetry help. I’m opening a few private sessions for anyone who wants focused guidance on their writing, no pressure, no rules, just real conversation and craft. Message me if interested.

I wrote this after my wife passed away There it sits, in shadows cast, Silent keeper of the past, Worn and weary, wood and thread, Holding all the words unsaid. Still it waits, both proud and bare, Memories etched in empty air, Once a throne of laughter bright, Now just echoes through the night. I see you there, though you are gone, Your presence lingered far too long, Stories told and secrets shared, Now just whispers, unprepared. But life moved on, like rivers bend, And fate, it took my dearest friend. Left behind this vacant space, A hollow shape where love took place. And yet I sit and talk to you, Pretending like I used to do, As if your warmth still fills the air, And you’re just resting in that chair. So here I’ll stay, until I find The strength to leave it all behind, But for now, it’s where I dare To dream you’re here, in that empty chair. By Jason Strickland

My dog Monkey don’t say much, But he knows the weight I clutch. With just one look, he reads my soul, And somehow makes the broken whole. He ain’t just fur and paws and bark, He's a steady light when nights get dark. He knows when grief has found my chest, And curls beside me, gives me rest. He’s chased my storms, outrun my pain, Stood with me in the falling rain. When silence hurt and people fled, It was my dog who stayed instead. He’s licked the tears I didn’t show, And taught me more than most will know. No preacher, poet, priest, or man Could heal me like that wagging fan. So if I rise, it’s not alone, Monkey walked me back home. No need for saints or shining skies, I see God’s grace in Monkey’s eyes.