These feels I haven’t felt in a very long time
reignited when my eyes looked upon
each word you said, anticipating
what would be ahead.

Hoping I’d be right.

Excited when my thoughts matched yours — as soulmates do.
Flipping the page, as if I were writing this book with you.

I’m still in awe that ink on paper and words arranged like mist and vapor
can transport one’s imagination and trigger feelings without hesitation.

There are no bounds; to read and to write.
Just feelings of the heart that do ignite.



©2022 Angel K Will, Twitter •  Facebook  • Instagram 

Blog Photo by Negative Space from Pexels

More by -akw-
GOD is so much more: a poetry collection, click here
Photo+Graphic Art, click here

Summer Rain

red clay and gravel roads
divots forming as the rain pelts
out of breath, running away
my heart aching as the pain melts

never did I think I’d find you
just to lose you all over again,
but here I am standing broken
looking down, I’ve lost my friend

life is short, and we both knew this
still we promised that we’d do this
so here I dance in the summer rain
when I close my eyes, you’re doing the same



©2022 Angel K Will
Twitter •  Facebook  • Instagram 

Blog Photo by Flora Westbrook from Pexels

More by -akw-
GOD is so much more: a poetry collection, click here
Photo+Graphic Art, click here

Blank page

My world starts in my mind.
It is within, not without.

I write my own story;
that is the power I hold.

If I accept this power, I am my own hero,
and my high-vibrational thoughts will be my superpower.

If I deny this power, I will become a victim within my own story,
and my low-vibrational thoughts will be my kryptonite.

My story will always be what I decide it to be,
for the blank page is before me.



Poetic print available on Society6 by clicking here.

©2020 Angel K Will | Instagram
Photo by Jessica Lewis from Pexels

A Cherished Rose


I stepped inside the solitary room and observed her from a distance. It was just the two of us. Her make-up done the way she always wore it. Her short, soft curls cemented by Rave aerosol hairspray. I walked over with her perfume bottle and spritzed it across her neck. Wafting the sweet smell toward me, I breathed in a cinnamon musk with hints of rose.

Slow and rhythmically, I traced my fingers up and and down the bones in her hand, from the wrist to the fingernails and back again. Then I leaned against the casket and studied her face, noticing the bump on the bridge of her nose. Like mine but smaller. How had I never noticed that before?

I took a deep breathe as the pressure built in my sinuses and eyes; tears trying to escape. Glancing toward the ceiling, I attempted to keep my eyelid dams from breaking, or at least slow the pace. But salty water quickly inched from the corners as my mind drifted off to memories.


“What are you doing?” she asked as I followed her around my kitchen with a plate in my hand.
“Well, you’re spilling crumbs everywhere,” I replied.

She walked back to the counter and put the last bite of toast in her mouth. She chewed and swallowed and in an unassuming manner replied “when you have guests over, let them do as they want to do. Let them be comfortable as if this were their own home. You can clean up after they leave.”

She placed the plate in the sink and frictioned off the remaining crumbs from her hands, then left the room. I watched amused while admitting I just learned another tid-bit of Mimi wisdom.


Pulling a chair away from the wall, I sat beside her in silence. Then I picked up her glasses from the table, the ones with a small rose etched on each of the arms, and slid them over her ears, resting them gently on her nose. I cupped my hands around hers, aged and worn by love and sacrifice. I wasn’t ready to let go. I don’t think we’re ever ready to let go.


The memory is from the post Mimi and her toast, a nonfiction vignette. But the above vignette is fiction, inspired by nonfiction. What would that be called, the blending of real and imagined… just, creative writing?

©2020 Angel K Will | Instagram  • Twitter
Photo by Kristina Paukshtite from Pexels

WP: Earl

MONOLOGUE (1-minute): Mia, 8 years old

I have a fish named Earl. People ask why I named him that. I don’t know… I just looked at him and said “Earl!” That’s how I do things. It feels right.

Like if someone looks sad, I give ’em a hug. If someone looks mad, I try to be super nice. If someone doesn’t have a dessert in their lunch, oh my goodness, that’s not right! So I share mine. If someone’s alone on the playground, I play with ’em. I mean, I’d want someone to play with me.

I don’t get why grown-ups make it so hard. It’s easy to do what feels right. I guess they’re just so busy and forget. When I get older I don’t want to forget because that’s just sad.

So yeah, my fish’s name is Earl. ‘Cause it felt right.

This writing prompt was a single word prompt, “Earl.”

It is from the book A Year of Creative Writing Prompts available on Amazon by clicking here. It has single word prompts, genre prompts, midday and evening prompts. All encouraging one to write, just write! Which is the habit I’m creating…

©2020 Angel K Will | Instagram  • Twitter
Photo by Gabriel P from Pexels