Black Lily Pad - poem and photo by: Erickson Solo celebratingAs confidence displaysYour name on my phone screen.Unbolded asA cloud. White textFloats on a black lily pad bubble.Loving lightlyWith a weightI plan the date. Thank you for reading "Black Lily Pad", subscribe for more poetry, travel, and creative writing content
American Diner Doors Open and photograph by: Erickson Helter-skelter stainless-steel smearsUpon a bopped-open butter bin.Maybe mapleBut frustrated fructose syrupSpits on signs,Gashes its gallops on paneled oak cabinets.—Across the street?—Bright Groceries.Oranges popping, looking at you like oversized eyeballs Under prices and lettering in bold.Prices in bold.—The street?—Long roadsLittered with signs designed for the American eye.Selling fried... Continue Reading →
Home is... (slipping colors) and photography by: Erickson The sun slips her colors.Orange-pink uplifts gray clouds And green-yellow encourages frothy waves. Home is home is home. Each sunset and sunrise,The waxing and waning,The height of the swing, versus the momentum of a fall,Is a human fingerprint. The city allows us to ponder. Dark towers ending... Continue Reading →
"Untitled" by: Erickson Centuries lay before you.Nude. Scarred, save for thin protective layer-A spider’s web thrown to the wind. It's a whisp that allows us to breathe. Color draws into pupils- Rising sun, crumbling leaves, architecture climbing heights. Squint. Step back. Move forward—trace the design, its slow rotation.An intricate fashion has been made.But does all... Continue Reading →
My breath is a rollercoaster. Do not stand on the side or queue lines, enter. The inhale is the rising ramp;The clanking as the body hums.The trap is set, up to the clouds, but we must hold before the fall. Hold before the fall.We were near the heavens for a moment. There were tears amongst... Continue Reading →
"Masculine Soul" poem and photograph by: Erickson-Free my masculine soul from the cage of my father.Rattle my chains and inject graciousness and goodness into my veins.Pluck me, like a hen, to remove each feather that is my sin.Free my masculine soul from the cage of my father.-
Writing Erickson - Adventure + Writing Blog 