Writing has been a life long passion. I got my start in the newspaper biz before manning the mike as a radio journalist, before finally landing in television as a news assignment editor. I earned my Bachelor's degree in English from Northern Michigan University.
+ more bio informationHer vista, on an aging front porch, pans a broadening horizon; sun creeping up, yellowing her eyes, Mama doesn't see the skies. Brilliant, gorgeous morning death carves silhouettes from dusky autos; suits tussled with crooked ties, she knows each hand-sewn guise. The backdrop can't hide their shame. Stealth woman on a wooden...
Poised at this intersection, too tired to write the feeling, endless are these idles thoughts without you to help me remember. Charcoal etches fading grey skies. A forgotten moon hides, pale behind your face - and lies. Return to me again, Summer. A humid night, you held my hand. We walked the hushed avenues, you commanded t...
They have all the excuses don't they? And the boss doesn't appear to be reprimanding that co-worker who consistently shows up late for work. How do they get away with it? To be repeatedly late for work and still have a job takes skill. Some people just don't need an excuse, because the head honcho is too busy playing card ga...
Brown, splintered wood connected by iron rails, winding, bending, unending, is embedded by rusted nails. Crushed, the gravel spreads on shaded country roads, weaving, dipping, unending, where you venture all alone. Turbulent, brilliant water, rushing amid foiled squalls, howling, singing, unending, as we charter nature's cal...
It's hard to understand sometimes why you have suddenly been targeted by a driver with road rage. You could have accidentally cut someone off because they tried to pass you in an outside lane, a blind spot. Usually this person is speeding up to get by you. In my case, it was someone rushing to get to an off-ramp to the inter...
I could never will the sun to shine, no matter how hard I try. I could never will a flower to bloom, if the rain won't fall from the sky. I could never will my heart to die, no matter how terrible I try. I could never make love swoon; no sun, rain or flower bloom can spell me from my doom. I could never promise to promise a ...
Diverted river, streaming into sorrow, dries in vain with rain coming tomorrow. Wash away, silted bed of dead; purge in vain with rain returning fed. Cyclical, dying and yet still trying... Time cedes the minutes of life, aging in vain with rain, ending strife. Carry away ebbing tide of hope; escape in vain with rain rushing...
Smothering swells tumble. Dividing tides of cold grey hurl above the watchful rocks. I fear their misty spray from where I've been lost. Reversing walls carry out my last tender sprout. Voiceless to call out, I'm plied to uncharted water; unbound upon a dreaming sea. White-capped crests lift up. My heart rides, my soul strid...
No gas left in the tank. If Brett Favre was a car, you couldn't push him to the finish line now. Number four said it, "I'm tired." And who can blame him? After playing 16 straight years without missing a game (253 regular season plus 22 playoff), the old man with the scruffy white whiskers is ready to hang it up. But is the ...
It's like having a song in your heart that you long to sing. You could sing it in the shower, but no one will be able hear. Unless you live with someone and then they just tease that you're off key. You need to get out of the shower and find more critics. Writers need an audience to get the fullest appreciation of these song...
Brian Keith Compton
Green Bay, Wisconsin US
Member since: April 2007
Articles Written: 114
Writers Invited: 2