Drink up words, drink up people

I am an avid learner.  My favorite question is,

“What is your story?”


Like groundwater, hidden in the belly of the earth,

I pump ideas out of my mind and onto the paper.

Characters, plots, and subtext evaporates as stories,

are watered for the ultimate harvest.


The volume of my mental aquifer will soon be depleted,

if I do not read, and drink up new ideas in flowing words.

The resource of writing will go dry and die of thirst,

if I do not listen, and drink up the tales of others.


A writer cannot live without the water of the reader,

a reader cannot live without the streams of the writer,

a beautiful and fragile ecosystem, must be cared for,

because a resource robbed from a cycle, is lost forever.


Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert


Life’s Elixer

Toxicity of evil, served in a rusted goblet,

a chalice decorated with bug carcasses,

that are called jewels.

Sugars, coloring, and  soothing words,

say, “Drink, drink, drink!”

Evil, though often denied, is never,


Behind the heavy velvet curtain,

evil minds marinate in a cauldron

of putrid rot.

A voice takes the stage that tells

tales of light, and banter,

yet the floorboards,

are bloated with black, mossy,


Why not consider,

serving another human,

a glass of encouragement,

a clear clean glass,

filtered mountain water,

for pure unencumbered love,

is life’s only elixir.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

Weekday Weekend Contemplation (Haiku)

No work today,

Wednesday is Saturday,

family at home.

Spring wakes up,

Walking the dog, without coat,

trees show buds.

Nothing hollows me,

like my kid getting sick,

get well, sweetheart.

Mountain waterfall,

Snow melts, rain follows.

Rivers drink again.

Money is dead?

Love, happiness, and family,

live. Without it?

3D modeling

I create worlds, life,

I make you move.

A nose scar,

better than a blind eye,

or a busted jaw.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

Spraying Words

You begin to speak, your words, like water, leap out of a fire hose.

I try to listen, your words, like water, a flowing attack, up my nose.

My hair is ruined, your words, like water, continue to sting.

I am silent, your words, like water, my heart is slowly drowning.

One who is only hungry for ears,

because they have none of their own,

is one day likely, not to be heard,

because eventually, they are alone.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert