Aimlessly floating

Through the pastures of rainbows

Seeking pastel colors of dreams

Above the molded fortress

Guided by soft tranquility

Brushing up against an oak tree

Wings spread wide as an ocean

Absorbing the crisp air

Flying high as an eagle

Freedom are feathers of gold

Fluttering in the pink wind

Waving at the blades of grass

Staring at high peeks

Gliding through the valleys

Soaring in the mist of unity

Under God’s mighty hands

Grateful to the sound of streams

Appreciating nature’s innocence

From the morning light

Until the moon finds the hazy sky

Seeking the beauty in love

Harboring love in its beauty


Check out my books!

Especially when the October wind
With frosty fingers punishes my hair,
Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire
And cast a shadow crab upon the land,
By the sea’s side, hearing the noise of birds,
Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks,
My busy heart who shudders as she talks
Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.

Shut, too, in a tower of words, I mark
On the horizon walking like the trees
The wordy shapes of women, and the rows
Of the star-gestured children in the park.
Some let me make you of the vowelled beeches,
Some of the oaken voices, from the roots
Of many a thorny shire tell you notes,
Some let me make you of the water’s speeches.

Behind a post of ferns the wagging clock
Tells me the hour’s word, the neural meaning
Flies on the shafted disk, declaims the morning
And tells the windy weather in the cock.
Some let me make you of the meadow’s signs;
The signal grass that tells me all I know
Breaks with the wormy winter through the eye.
Some let me tell you of the raven’s sins.

Especially when the October wind
(Some let me make you of autumnal spells,
The spider-tongued, and the loud hill of Wales)
With fists of turnips punishes the land,
Some let me make of you the heartless words.
The heart is drained that, spelling in the scurry
Of chemic blood, warned of the coming fury.
By the sea’s side hear the dark-vowelled birds.

I struggle with my senses

I struggle with the attraction

I struggle keeping you out of my mind

I struggle with the enigma

I struggle with the forces

I struggle keeping the distance

I struggle with the hurricane

I struggle with the power of the waves

I struggle keeping you in a box

I struggle with the mystery

I struggle with my imagination

I struggle keeping you outside of it


Check out my books!

A classic vantage

Perceptions gauzed in antiques

Edges of photographs crinkle

Rustic but euphoric

Art history in sight

Words written from thick blood

Deep appreciation of jazz

Grasping the top notch pen

Refined and elegant

Dressed in sophistication

Adoring her exquisite tongue

Artistic in the hurricane soul

Tasting the vintage ink


Check out my new book!

Wider than a bulldozer

Enormous sight for hungry eyes

Long and gigantic

Bigger than her mouth

Generous and gigantic

A massive gesture curved

Grand and sizable

Staring at the abundance

Curious as a small kitten

Wondering in delight

Glaring at the immense

Extravagant and humongous

Gawking at the thickness

Fixated on the strength

A portion leaps to be inquisitive

Blushing inside and out

Intensity risen beyond its heights

My imagination doesn’t see us between the sheets. I have tip toed around the questions within while sipping on truth. I’m afraid to chug to it for it will consume me. I could drink your tears, fall for your disease, and get tangled up in your words for a lifetime. I could dance with your vulgarity, skeletons, and the dress you will never wear. I could scrape the lies from the bottom inside and toss them on the ground you walk on. You will never be a china doll that was never touched. In my disordered eyes I reach for the rawness you create. I wish I could feel it in my palms. Perhaps that wish floats like the paragraphs you write. I could shut my eyes and lose myself in your barely seen stars. I could crave for the intimacy that could last for twenty minutes but cherish the dynamic that we possess forever. I could walk into our electricity and you would bellow. You are worth the aftershocks. I can use the word love for once and feel it’s purity.Perhaps my imagination stretches out too far. I could visualize us making love but drinking coffee chuckling is photographed. There are no aches, no hunger, but just a whirlwind of appreciation and respect. I can’t tame your ghosts, erase the burns, and find the missing pieces. I can’t even see your canvas due to its width and length. I’m terrified to lose something perfect. I love our vibrations. I love the flow of our burning river. I love your fragments. I love your chocolate vocabulary. I love how it taste in my mouth. Nobody pushes my imagination like you do. Nobody reaches for me with their bare hands, except you.

Roses of transparent moments collide

I do a moist conversation in the horizon of the orange sky

I am drenched in sweat craving your magical words

I am lost in the softness of your mind

I float on lips of resurrection, I hang in the golden wax of your lotus body

I hang and you hold me like the dripping twists and turns on fold of my skin,

I disappear on Cupid’s pavement searching for your fragile soul

I inhale your breathless scars

I have counted pain, I have sustained and coloured my pain

I sip your honey in the chalice of my tongue

I embrace your canvas like an artist

I have fallen for your words like a ballerina

Your words strike paradise and pour a lump of seasons.

A travesty, tapestry, Titanic.

I am in awe of your twinkling perception

I cradle your warmth and stitches

As I take birth and die in the symmetry of your curve.

I am in reborn absorbing your divine essence


My words – Italics

My Valiant Soul – Non Italics

Check out My Valiant Soul blog. She is a brilliant writer and it was a pleasure to collaborate with her.

Hello All,

Today I have reached a milestone of acquiring a 1000 followers. I have stumbled across many great people, aspiring writers, and have enjoyed this journey.

I also want to thank those who have purchased my books. Thank you for all the support.

– Braeden Michaels

Holly Rene Hunter is the “House of Heart” blog. When I do stop by and read her blog I am quite impressed. Holly does a great job creating beautiful imagery. She writes with elegance and it’s almost as if I’m reading a famous poet from the 1970’s. I am always impressed when I read her blog. I enjoy the choices of word and style. Some may not know this but she also has a book. I encourage for others to take the time to read it.

Please check out her blog if you have not.

I take the time to do this because it is very time consuming for a blogger to answer questions for an award that is offered to them. This is my way of appreciating them without doing a bunch of work.