
Weeds of Heart
Weeds
are such
impatient
creatures.
And like
time and tide,
they wait for
no man.
They often
make demands,
beset in hearts
of men
Who do not
care, or understand,
or tend to
the garden.
©️ Benjamin Thomas



Weeds of Heart
Weeds
are such
impatient
creatures.
And like
time and tide,
they wait for
no man.
They often
make demands,
beset in hearts
of men
Who do not
care, or understand,
or tend to
the garden.
©️ Benjamin Thomas



For today’s prompt on Dverse we are revisiting Emily Romano’s Mementopoetry style:
Poetry Rules:
Poetry Theme:
a holiday or an anniversary (formal or informal)
Helpful Links:
The wedding day came and went
like the Fourth of July
fireworks
Bride and groom explode—intimate
like the Fourth of July
fireworks
Man and wife light up the night sky
like the Fourth of July
fireworks
Two kids later and we still fly
like the Fourth of July
fireworks
Benjamin Thomas
Come visit at Dverse Poets.



My counselor says I need to process the old
encumbrances hushed away in the closet.
Like unopened malicious gifts biding their
time to take a bite, weigh me down.
My counselor says I need to experience
the old maniacal memories hushed away
in the closet. As if I need to reopen old
wounds with fresh swords gilded with hope.
My counselor says I need to acknowledge
and accept the old tedious ways that left
me broken. Like telling an injured man
to accept a broken femur after the
sledgehammer makes contact.
My counselor says I need to feel all the old
scabs that have taken root. It hurt like hell the first time around, so I’m not sure
I’m up for seconds.
©️ Benjamin Thomas


A string of three haikus.
Not sure why I need
to acknowledge the closet
of horrors. I’ll pass.
Some skeletons will have
their pound of flesh—It’s better
to keep them at bay
Than running ashore
killing the green pastures and
strangling the present.
©️ Benjamin Thomas


We commence human life as nescient,
handheld sugar babies nursing amply at the breast.
It is there, at no behest, we indulge ourselves–basking in
the flow of the nipple with impunity.
With mother at the helm–It’s a fool’s paradise. Peaceful,
sunny, warm with an endless supply of copious milk,
there is no cause for concern.
Until an indifferent storm settles upon the bow, shakes the
crew, shatters the stern. All hands on deck against
the insufferability of a horde of waves.
The tender softness of breast is replaced by a cold
calloused hand. Hands that once assured an inviolable cradle
have now become a battering at sea.
Man overboard! Man overboard!
There is no one at the helm. The captain has not gone down
with the ship. They have not perished with the vessel, but we
have been left here alone.
Waterlogged with the heavy burden of grief, we aimlessly drift about.
Tasting the briny bitterness of life as it splashes us in the face,
it speaks to us a hopeless abandonment at sea.
© Benjamin Thomas
This is prompt provided by the poetry site Dverse Poets.



Although the sword of the king rang cold with fury,
it wore the warm carmine blood of his enemy.
His heart thumped, was proud like his weapon,
at the behest of his own revenge. Beating his chest aloud,
he exclaimed, I am victor o’er my adversary and the
grave! Who shall come against me? I have the fortitude of
a hundred men! I would have learnt to love black days like bright
ones. Who dare stand against me in the day of battle? My feet hath
trampled the wicked. My arm hath stricken the feeble
warrior at his doorstep. My eye has seen the fields ripe
with the blood of the challenger. I have inhaled the breath
of the assailant and exhaled in mighty triumph! I am slave to no army,
ha! As the king spoke, a random arrow struck him in the heart.
Benjamin Thomas


Oh to be a sunset raven.
Guided by the will of the day’s breeze.
At ease with each wing outspread
catching wave after wave of errant winds.
Oh to be a sunset raven.
Surfing the remnants of a blissful horizon.
Sky is the only limitation.
No longer in chains like an earthbound slave.
Emancipated from every tethered nation.
Taken about blue-born skies without care.
Oh to be a sunset raven.
Guided by the will of the day’s breeze.
-Benjamin Thomas




How did you first find inspiration for “KIRINS: The Seer Of Serone”?
The Seer of Serone is the sequel to my KIRINS trilogy but I wrote it to be enjoyed as a standalone adventure, too. I made the characters and their world small because as a child I loved and collected miniatures, and I have always loved fantasy and science fiction. I set out to write a fantasy in the classic tradition: epic storyline, an immersive, all-new world, great characters, powerful and mysterious magic, action, plot twists, an immediate threat, romance, and heroism. And the books are suitable for readers 10 to 110. No vampires, zombies, gore, drugs, or post-apocalyptic landscapes. No obscenities or erotica. No superheroes, just heroes.
Why did you decide to have this fantasy series take place on modern day Earth?
Most fantasies are set in a mythical world or in the past or future. I wanted to challenge myself to write a fantasy set in today’s world.
When writing a series with a unique, fictional civilization, how did you create the backstory and details for this world?
To set the series in today’s world, I had to create a backstory that would explain how a rich, unrevealed fantasy world could exist all around us on present-day earth. My writing nook overlooked a serene lake and woodland. I visualized a fantasy civilization that might populate that landscape, living joyfully just beyond the reach of human senses. I imagined that those creatures—kirins—were once friendly with humans. But humans, being human, came to treat kirins cruelly. Kirins dissociated and intentionally concealed themselves from humans using magic that both races once shared but humans have long forgotten. Still, there has been a persistent longing within many kirins to reunite with their old allies, human beings, while ancient memories of kirins persist in every human culture through myths about magical little people—faeries, leprechauns, menehune, and the like.
What inspired you to stay committed to creating this series over the span of many years?
I love writing and creating, and when you love doing something you never want to stop. But most importantly, I wanted to see my stories come to a satisfying ending.
You were working full time when you began this series and describe writing as “a second career”. How did you balance these careers?
I was practicing medicine full-time when I wrote the original trilogy, and it took four years to complete. I wrote early in the morning, at night, on weekends, and on holidays. I was never happier than during those four years when I was writing, having a busy, fulfilling medical practice, and spending time with my family. Someone once asked my wife how many hours a week I wrote. Her answer surprised even me: forty, she said. I never kept track of the time because it never felt like work.
James D. Priest, M.D., majored in English at Carleton College in Northfield, Minnesota. He studied English in the masters program and received a Doctor of Medicine degree at the University of Minnesota. He spent three years in Japan as a physician in the Army of the United States caring for casualties from Vietnam, and four years in orthopedic residency at Stanford University. He practiced orthopedics in Minneapolis for twenty-one years. He has authored or co-authored approximately thirty medical articles, and received the Minnesota Medicine Outstanding Writing Award.


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