Posted in Triolet


An icy finger pokes my heart
in jabbing motions unrestrained.
When decency is blown apart,
an icy finger pokes my heart.
What message can this deed impart
beyond the cruelty sustained?
An icy finger pokes my heart
in jabbing motions unrestrained.

© Susan Schoeffield

A somber poem, influenced by the recent events in Paris.

Posted in Quatrain

The Rising Tide

A sadness swelling in my breast
deprives me of much needed rest.
My mind replays an endless spate
of hurtful words imbued with hate.

Hostility drips from the tongue
with venom nonchalantly flung.
If someone dares to disagree,
we scoff at such simplicity.

How easily we victimize
through rage’s aim to minimize
another person’s point of view,
while more debasing words ensue.

Though coated in a thick veneer,
unpleasant truths are crystal clear.
With ev’ry vile, demeaning post,
this growing hatred I fear most.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for the 8/17/14 prompt at Creative Bloomings to write a poem about something we fear. NOTE: This poem was awarded a Brilliant Bloom award by Creative Bloomings on 8/23/14. I’m truly honored!

Posted in Luc-Bat

No Safe Haven


The ocean roughly kissed
her lips and in the mist she felt
tiny grains of sand pelt
hard against the old welt, a scar
from days she thought were far
away but still could mar her days.
Enveloped in a haze,
she ran in varied ways to slip
from pains which held their grip
but on this pointless trip persist.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for Day 2 of the Poetic Asides April 2014 PAD Challenge to write a “voyage” poem.

Posted in Double Nove Otto

Road Rage

Road Rage

The terms we use can be deceiving.
This one would have us believing
asphalt is to blame when tempers flare.

What power does an on-ramp wield
to force a driver not to yield,
then cause the Interstate to glare?

And when a lane and street converge,
do fights break out when there’s no merge?
Does one of them lay on the horn?

At traffic lights when cars don’t halt,
it’s not a piece of gravel’s fault
and doesn’t justify the scorn

we place on things that do not breathe,
that never swear, or sit and seethe,
or have an anger we can gauge.

And so, to end this ode of mine,
I’ll be so bold as to opine
it’s time to call it Human Rage.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for the 2/23/14 prompt at Creative Bloomings to write a “personification” poem.

Posted in Quatrain



Two towers stood in graceful stance
as inspiration at a glance
to all who genuinely believed
that anything could be achieved.

By making aspirations real,
these buildings made of stone and steel
were beacons for the world to see
the inner strength of our esprit.

The engineering marvels born,
to die one sunny, blue-skied morn,
created dreams that touched the skies
misunderstood by spiteful eyes.

Those cowards, in a fit of pique,
had wrongly judged our nation weak.
The giants fell at quite a cost,
but freedom never once was lost.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for the 1/29/14 prompt at Poetic Asides to write a “building” poem.

Posted in Pensee

Always Is Forever

Poetic Asides November 2013 Poem-A-Day Challenge – Day 20: an “Always [blank]” poem

Always Is Forever

is a long time
to hold on to resentment
for real or imagined anguish
brought about by others.

is all you have
when you can’t take back the words
you have spoken from the anger
controlling who you are.

is forever
when a wrong can’t be righted
because death chose to intervene
and anger becomes guilt.

© Susan Schoeffield


Posted to Poetic Asides on 11/20/13 at 12:22 p.m.