Hi, readers!  In these poetry spotlights today and in the future, we will be showcasing poetry by some very talented poets.  These poets have graced us with their presence.  

With us today is poet and author J. Rose Alexander. 

Here is a little taste of her poetry.


In the darkness, a candle burns

teaching those who'll never learn

They see the light and watch it grow

And I learn from those who do not know

As the light grows slowly brighter

It makes the darkest shadows slighter

My lesson, now, I know what 'tis

To teach the truth as truth is

The light rides upon the black

And at morrow's night it shall come back

Without the dark, the light is not

Nor is all for which we fought

And in the dark, my lesson's learned

And as thus, my candle burned.

 Silence Screams

Silence screams

A deadly sound

No earthly ears can hear

They bring forth tears

In angels' ears

A single note resounds

A discordant note

Just slightly out of tune

Sour to a listening ear

A hateful note, flat and sharp

As silence screams inside

The angels' cry of silence

Resounds in blinding dark

What pain does inside the heart

Scars the silent souls forever

Silence sounds never quite right


sometimes, you can't see the sun
it is blocked by the clouds
or perhaps blocked out by you
and then there is night
you sit and you wonder
if you will ever see day
the moon sheds no light
the stars seem dull
the trees stand too tall in their
naked Glory
the grass is too brown in its
winter slumber
and you are left to think
will I ever see the spring?

 "Fast Enough"

If I wake up Fast Enough
Will I see myself standing?
If I run Fast Enough
Will I see myself standing?
If I scream Loud Enough
Will I hear myself whisper?
What will I feel
If my hate is Strong Enough?
What will I know
If I learn Long Enough?
How much will I have
If I work Hard Enough?
Can you Hear what I say?
Can you See what I've seen?
Can you Learn what I know?
If I dream Hard Enough
Will I see reality?
And if I die Fast Enough
Will I see myself live?

Have you thought of Death

Have you thought of death?
How dare you? How dare you?
To think of descending into black
to never come back or return
Cheating yourself out of life
While we struggle through?
Have you thought of death?
Don't dare you! Don't dare you!
Black swallows you whole
But you don't escape, not yet.
You come to the surface
and gasp for air once more.
You have thought of death----
You dare you will! Then go---
Let the black swallow you away
from the world you tried to escape
Then go--- I want never to see you again
You think of death---
Oh How I hate you---
Ihateyou! Ihateyou! Ihateyou!
You run away, a scared little child
So, have you thought of death?
And how dare you do so?
The Black opens its arms
As you descend down and down
Try again-- one more time
And so this time you do
Success and demise at once
You thought of death---
And went------


I feel my importance amid New York crowds.
I am one among millions who shall be preserved.
I fear nothing on the deadly New York streets.
I am! I exist! See me! here, and now!

I feel taller than the buildings by which I am awed
And nothing, NOTHING could make me feel small.

But when I stand in a fallow field,
Not 200 miles away,

I my importance dwindle amid the grasses
I am one among millions whose reason to be is not clear.
I fear every rustle of wind in the trees.
Who am I? Do I exist? Can you see me? where, and how?

I feel less than the dirt on which I stand,
And realize everything is larger than I am.


Could it be?
All this is over?
Shall I say amen?

I remember
Waking up before the sun
to help with your lunch
We went all over
to deliver cake and cookies

There were a hundred rooms
it seemed, to a little girl.
But I could always find you
no matter how many rooms.

The car was green,
the driveway narrow
the car-port home-built
in your enormous yard.

I remember
The books I have
were as big as me!
The bench at the front door
welcoming company

A little girl’s imagination
went wild on those benches,
on those back porches
in that huge yard

I remember
It seemed like hours
to a sandy barren place
Live there? But how?
There’s no roof, no walls.

At first, it was a cement block

Then a collection of wood
I don’t remember walls
There were no trees.

I wanted you to stay
not to move so far away
Retirement was a blessing
“Idle hands....”

I remember
The lawn was plush, green
carefully trimmed.
getting wet
We’d bring our bathing suits
and run through the sprinklers

There was always something
for us to do there.
A garage full of things
of memories, of junk

The bicycle with a skipping chain
The taped-up jump rope
The ball-bearing balanced rope
The harmonica

I remember
You always went out to hide
out Easter Eggs to find
Out came your harmonica
and the songs we knew

There were Christmases spent
at my house
You slept on the pull-our bed
Or were supposed

You left that night
We didn’t know why.
Memory made you go
Pride forced you home.

 I remember
There was no one downstairs
to sneak around
How come you left?
Did we make you angry?

If only we had realized....
Many more times would you go
Memory forcing you to go
Pride forcing you to keep going

It was the first time you asked,
“Who was that?”
For someone you had known
all your life

I remember
Your hair grew greyer
Your gadgets less original.
This was the third time
you had taught me that problem....

More and more you watched
Less and less you moved
The chair was a sanctuary.
A safe haven for retreat.

You no longer remembered
Who I was, who you were.
The stories became jumbled
The memories crowded.

“I’m Jennifer, your granddaughter”
“I’m Stephanie, your wife”
“I’m Christine, your daughter”
“I’m Paul, your son”
“I’m Chester, your brother”

For just one moment she turned
Just a moment, there was no eye to watch
And the next moment, you were gone.
The eyes had nothing to watch.

The forest--
cold, dark
The memory--
cold, dark
No one is around to tell you
where you live
who you are.

A bed of pine needles,
ten miles from a place you do not recognize
as home
serves as a bed

It was on that bed you died.

Stubborn body lived on.
No one could say you had
not been healthy
Your body clung to life.

I remember
They had found you,
cold, alone, half dead
A shriveled and drawn man
cold, alone, half dead.

Trapped in a body which wouldn’t die
Trapped in a mind that couldn’t remember
Were you aware?
Did you know?

You walked for a while.
You rode in a wheelchair for a while
You stayed in a bed for a while
You stayed in that bed.

I remember
Your flesh rotted before
your heart stopped beating
A shriveled, dying man lay there
this was not you

Sicknesses they could not name
ate you inside out.
You would not eat anymore
except for yogurt

The first call was a nurse
“Should I call a priest?”
“Has it come to this?”
I went back to sleep.

I remember
I was seeing you die
and I wished it sped along
This should be over
no one needs to suffer

It was quick and quiet.
The way it should have been
on that bed of pine
so long ago.

You hung on stubbornly
every day forgetting
another piece of yourself
‘til there was nothing there

I remember
How I would miss you!
How unfair--
Peaceful and dignified
you lay there

Perhaps it looked like wax
But it was peaceful there
And finally, you were given
your dignity back

As much as we will miss you
it is better this way.
The grandfather I once knew
died on a bed of pine
and pined away on a bed

A slow




I remember mourning.

Poet Bio

Author of a few poems here and there, co-author of "The Faction Stories", "Penumbra:Equinox", and contributor to "Heroes & Villains" Anthology, she lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and three cats. Chatter box, compulsive writer, bon vivant, stunt commuter, and a ninja in her dreams, J. Rose enjoys losing herself in the capes and masks of her superheroes, finding new trouble for her witches and werewolves-- and is always on the look out for a new adventure, on the page or in real life.






Featured Post

A Character Interview with Dillon from MOUNTAIN BLAZE, plus a conversation with author Debby Grahl!

Today we're bringing something different to Writing in the Modern Age in the form of a character interview. These character interviews, ...