Articles written by DL McCulloch

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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Ahead of his time: 2 of 57
He spun tales to me,a child at his knee.Sitting rapt with awe,I would see what he saw;the world so large before me,as his voice spun the story.There were saints and sinners;some losers and some winners,all woven into events and placeswith their own voices and faces.Grandpa's stories, like seeds gently placed,grew in my child'... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Waiting: 8 of 179
In The Moment WaitingHere I stand, in the moment waiting.As this tired heart beats a slow rhythmto the world's mystic voice whisperingunintelligible messages that touchsoft as feathers, falling like snowcold as ice, against my face.My eyes turn towards the darkened sky,searching the silken cloak of blacknessand find pulsing i... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: America: 12 of 66
Slavery of ChoiceBeing American is about having choices.Pick your colorred, white, blue,or greenPick your sizesmall, medium, large,or jumboAmericans have been choosing for centuries.We choose who leads us,how we spend our money,who we pray toWe choose what we readwhat we watch,what we listen toI would say, Americans have beco... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Who I am: 72 of 364
I That I AmWhat is it in a name?That which is I comes into being,But never arrives.This awareness existsfarther than the visible horizon,farther than the point of beginning recalled,farther than any understanding collected.I become with each passing measure of time.In a measure not an absoluteis where this I that I amis aware... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Ant hills: 11 of 52
I watch these small black creatures,as they race to and fro in ordered line;into and out of their well mounded homes,full of some mysterious purpose.In perfect symmetry they go forward,their pace is steady, fast and efficient;wasting no precious time it appears,in accomplishing their mission.Ant hills abound in my back yard,a... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Writing: 119 of 505
A Loss For WordsIf it were possible,I'd create the perfect words;powerful, unopposed,in a maelstrom of experience.Birthing again and again,chaos driven forth, spreading,feverish, uncontrolled,breaking through the bounds of reason's gates.And there, do you see it?Sitting in a blank white space,glimmering, undefined,just beyond... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: The moon: 43 of 174
Cloudy NightI search for the moon, there in the night sky,and find only a misty white glowpulsing strong then weak, strong than weakwithin the moving clouds, a faint beaconmarking any direction upward and outward.WInd glides stealthily through the darkened trees,gently tangling tendrils of my hair,a cool breath against my bro... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Inevitable: 31 of 97
Graceful ImbalanceFalling down drunk again.It seems that is the deja vuI keep having with youin the middle of it.Falling down drunk again.Isn't it just too familiarthat you are stumbling aroundthe same pieces of furniture?Yet, you never seem to break a bonewandering in the dark like you do.No cuts, no bruises.Falling down dru... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Ode: 13 of 39
Ode To NyxHow soft your velvet cloak descends uponthese weary shoulders, tired of day's attacks.Concealment welcomed, harshness shunned; this suna firey ball no longer gives but lacksthe cool and muted salve I seek, unfoundamidst the clamor drowning out my thoughtof soul's sweet flight amid the stars, unbound.A muted whisper,... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Winter: 119 of 194
The Wolf MoonThis hungry cold consumes my very breath,an icey bite within my lungs like death.Its teeth sink deep to feast upon my heattill sated, howling, it runs with snowy feetacross the hardened earth it takes to flight,and meets the wolf moon high in winter's night. More..