I’m Still Here

I feel lost. I’m less than I once was, with more fears and even more dark places in my mind. I may always be lost. I’m not who I once I was, I’ve lost some dreams and gained new nightmares in their places. I’m lost. I’m not the person I used to be, there is less joy and more pain now.


But I can still write.

And if I can write, I can find my way through the fears and the pain. I am me and I always will be a writer.


Miraculous Morning

Miraculous Morning


I woke up this morning.

I woke up and my room was cold.

I woke up and my fan rattled on.

I woke up and my nose wrinkled.

I woke up to a furry tongue and darkness.


I woke up this morning,

To a miracle:

I feel like writing.


I woke up this morning.

I woke up and my room was blessedly cool.

I woke up and my fan hummed soothingly.

I woke up and I breathed in deeply.

I woke up to filtered sunshine and freshness.


I woke up this morning,

To a miracle:

I feel like writing!

I See In Part

I See In Part



My life went

To pieces.

Bloody things,


Red with the insides of me.


And then,

What was broken,

Came together again.

A new me, made of the same pieces,

A new life, whole in a new configuration.


I thought I had ended,

But I have only just begun.

This Old Jabberwocky

I hate them, they hate me,

I’ll go kill my enemies!

With a whick-whack snicker-snack, I will break their bones!

Then I’ll go galumphing home.






I think I might be losing my mind! Wooo!


Her, at the Window

Her, at the Window



Gazes out the blurry window.

Feet arch,

Raises eyes and woman’s vanity higher.

Legs tense,

Tightens muscles and my attention.

Back straight,

Curves all else, but all unconsciously.

Randall W Hilgendorf

Repetition is Hell

I see this repeated storyline in my life:

Randall is going along, just coasting, maybe a little dissatisfied but not terribly unhappy with life. Then he is shown something new, something better. Randall grows to want the new thing desperately, he thinks and plans and starts moving towards it. For a while, it’s all open doors and green lights, and Randall lets himself start to hope that this time he will actually be able to attain something better than he has.

But no. One final open door actually turns out to be a window with unbreakable glass, and Randall plows headlong into it. He can only sit on the ground and stare, confused and hurt at what he that he was going to have, but was taken from him at the last moment. Again.

I’m afraid there will come a day when Randall cannot find the strength or enough hope, to pick himself up and try again. That eventually, he is going to stop even trying to look for open doors, because he will believe that something better will never be more than a tease to him.

A Falling Leaf

A Falling Leaf


I watched a leaf fall today;

As it fell, I heard the children play.

And I wondered at life.


Life. Times of sorrow and strife

Times with troubles rife.

But then the leaf turned.


Life. Pleasures abound, some earned,

Some not, but still never spurned.

The leaf wafted to the ground.


Life. In life, always questions abound.

We twist like the leaf’s journey bound.

Until we too, reach the ground.


Randall W Hilgendorf