Panic

 Panic

Woke up in cold sweat.
Eviction. Disconnection.
a nightmare... and yet...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

The Meddling

 The Meddling

They'd have us believe
the fracturing of Britain
isn't of their hand...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Ember

 Ember 

A spark may remain
Where a fire once burned proudly
Now barely glowing. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Notice and Remember

Notice and Remember

The farce continues,
but people are waking up.
Our time is coming. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Rage

Rage

They build their bunkers
to escape the people's wrath,
but they shall reap it...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Just Under

Just Under

Seven in the bank,
I put six in the gas tank,
and thank Mercury.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Self Talk

Self Talk

Bite back the pain, son. 
Don't let the bastards see tears,
lest they make it worse.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Typical

Typical

God awful writing, 
accusations for the views...
so goddamned fatigued...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Deja vu

 Deja vu

In goes the needle
So they can collect my blood
And offer pennies. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Social

 Social

Pizza and ice cream,
Seeing old faces and new, 
Some don't seem to care. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

3 days

 3 days

A much needed break
That will be used to work hard
On my other tasks...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Home

Home

Racing the sun west, 
Speeding and yet still losing 
Trying to get home. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Hum

 Hum

With each passing mile, 
Driving away from the sun, 
Exhaustion creeps in

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Calculating

Calculating 

Square grid, nine by nine,
Central goal upheld by eight,
Might as well try it...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Dirt

Dirt 

Along the sidewalk, 

Outside of the hospital, 

We played construction. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Renewed

Renewed

In my sleep I dreamt
the daydream I used to have...
Maybe it's a sign!

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Peace

Peace

Tucked back in the woods, 
I stare at quiet waters
No worry, no care.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8vcRQYb/

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Steady

Steady 

Hold the Fly swatter
Walk slowly up to the wall, 
And catch it off guard!

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Auspicious

Auspicious 

A bloody red hue,
Silver flirting at the edge,
Stars dim for the show.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Flock Hunter

 Flock Hunter

1

Graham hated bear-crawls back when he was playing football. Almost as much as he hated burpees. Not these “influencer” burpees that have grown popular, but the real ones. The ones that had you bouncing from foot to foot as fast as you could until the coach blew his whistle, and you dropped to the ground pushed yourself back up and started again. Sometimes he would wait for a bit before blowing the whistle, and sometimes he would blow it the second you were back on your feet, or even halfway to your feet.  All the while, wearing full equipment.

Those burpees were exhausting.

Bear-crawls on the other hand were hell in their own right. From one endzone to the next, full equipment, and God help you if Coach thought he saw your knee hit the green. Coach demanded discipline and seemed to know when you were holding back. If anyone went slower than their previous time, they had to start over with the rest of the team doing burpees until you were done.

No one held back, and found that even in this singular activity, it was in the best interest of everyone to go full tilt.

Today, however, Graham was bear-crawling through the mud slowly. It struck him as ironic that the burning in his forearms and quads seemed to hit him much faster at this rate than when he used to go fast down the field.

Slow and steady was the pace today, however. Soybeans only gave so much cover, and even with a ghillie suit, if he moved too fast it would draw attention.

No, he had to move nice and slow and he had to get as close as possible while doing it.

He was a good shot, but there were too many variables to take a chance. He had to get close enough to those damned things to nail them without hitting any of the cars going by.

His first target sat a mere 10 yards away up the embankment right next to the highway, perched on its pole, taunting everyone driving by.

Its brother sat on its own pole about 60 yards further down the highway on the other side.

He slowly brought the rifle up, and aimed at the camera facing the west first, and without firing, he slowly lined up the next shot. He aimed at one and then the other, and repeated the motion slow and steady at first, and then faster. He tried to get it the bead lined up from one shot to the next as smoothly and as quickly as possible to avoid delay in getting out of there.

When he felt comfortable enough, he took aim at the West facing camera and listened to the hum of the traffic. When there was a relative lull, he squeezed the trigger.

There was a small burst of glass, plastic and wires at the crack of his rifle.
‘One bird down,’ he thought.

He swung the rifle to the closest camera.

Squeeze. Crack. Small burst of components.

“Ha!” He shouted out to the audience of passing cars and soy beans.

He pulled the rifle back in, sliding it back across his back as securely as possible under the ghillie and turned around. His bear crawl this time was a little more rapid, but still slow enough to not draw attention to him.

He heard the sirens just as he hit the tree line. Finally rising to his feet in the protective shadows of the trees, he pulled out a small pair of binoculars and looked out to the police cars now inspecting his handiwork.

They were all just looking at the ruined camera posts and looking out at the fields. He laughed again and moved further into the trees to where his dirt bike awaited.

Another successful hunt, and another two birds down, making six total this month. It was going to get harder the more he hunted, but like all true Hoosier men, he looked forward to the challenge.

Urban Garden

Urban Garden

Chalk on the driveway, 
Colorful flowers and fruits, 
A shame the rain comes. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Squint

Squint 

Keep sight of the spin,

don't look at the distractions

and reshape the Verse.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

G0ySl0p

G0ySl0p

Call it they will, 

but Hell will turn to pure ice

before I eat horse. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Hopeful

Hopeful

Blow out the candles, 
While digging deep for my wish.
May Magick exist!

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

On the eve

On the eve.

It is new years eve, 
A new year starts tomorrow, 
I will be better...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

And...

 And...

A glimmering light
Cutting sharp through the darkness
Perhaps from on high...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Exhausted

Exhausted

Today was a mess.

One fire after another.

Where is easy mode?

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Keeping Watch 5

Keeping Watch 5

(Author's Note: This will be the last installment of the story that will appear here. Further installments will be completed on Patreon, and then when complete it will be on Amazon.)

He heard his own scream inside his head. He felt his heart beating faster than it had ever beaten in his short life. Those were the only things that seemed to be happening normally.

The world was blue. Everything had a shimmer of blue around it. The shattered glass, the ruined window frame, the length of his rifle, and even the reed beast had a shimmering blue outline that went from bright dark blue to a pale light blue.  

The window had shattered where the shimmering reed thing burst through it, and the shards were flying in towards him, but so slowly that they could have been merely floating there in the air between the creature and himself.

The rifle had a glow of light at its end, and the bullet floated in the air between the barrel and the creature’s open face.

Thomas stopped screaming and lowered his rifle. This was definitely a nightmare. The glass should have already hit him; the bullet should have already hit the beast. Or torn through it, since it looked like mere reeds.

He stepped around the bulk of the glass to get a closer look. The bullet, still tinged red from the heat of the barrel, was moving ever so slowly towards the open face of the beast. The opening resembled a sideways mouth, as if the head split from the top to the bottom to allow the mouth to open. The reeds curled inwards like makeshift jagged teeth.

Thomas poked at the reeds with the barrel of his rifle, and it slowly pushed the reeds inward without any resistance. As it sank, he saw an eye within the side of the head closest to him, and it snapped towards him. He stumbled backwards, but the creature did not follow him. It gave a slow and languished shudder, as if trying to shrug off the slowness that was gripping everything but Thomas. The reads themselves rippled in a slow wave from the tip of its gaping head towards its rear.

Then he noticed it.

Himself.

Right in front of the creature, he was standing, rifle still up, mouth still open in a scream, face still tight, half-flinching from the expectant blow from the beast charging through the window.

“What…?”

He slowly walked up to himself, squinting as intently at his own face as he had at the creature’s. He held up his hand beside the hand of his double. He held out the rifle to see if it would pass through the rifle his double held as it had done with the reed creature. It shook in his hand slightly, and then violently, before it flew from Thomas’s hand and went into the original.

He just barely heard it over the sound of own gasp.

The rustle of reeds.

He turned back to the creature, which was no longer quite as slow as the world around them. The waves that rippled from the tip of its head to its rear were now happening in rapid succession one right after the other. The reeds themselves rising and falling like the surface of a stormy lake. Its whole body seemed to be vibrating, and the reed fanged mouth was opening faster than it had been when the world went blue.
Thomas stepped back and felt himself bump into himself. There was a flash of white, and he felt himself jerk left. He was standing in front of the beast, rifle in hand and raised.

He was in his body again.

The blue disappeared, and the world snapped out of the slowness as quickly as it had been seized by it. The bullet went right through the gaping head of the reed beast and into the night. He dropped the rifle and brought his arm up to protect his face from incoming impact of glass and beast.

The moment happened so quickly compared to how it had been going, that Thomas almost missed it.
With a loud thud, a shadow landed on the wooden porch behind the reed creature. While the glass flew past Thomas, the creature did not. It hung in the air for a moment, its eyes spinning around wildly before turning its head behind it. There, the silhouette of a deer had reached out with humanish arms and had a fistful of reeds in its clawed humanish hands. It pulled the beast back.

The reed beast’s mouth spread wide, face reeds thrashing and waving in rage and let out a screech that Thomas thought sounded like a cross between a human in pain and a mountain lion.  The sound hit him like a bucket full of cold water, and his body froze. His arms, and legs refused to move, and he could only watch as the thing that was clearly not a deer pulled the reed beast back outside from the window.
The reed beast lunged at its attacker, who lowered its antlers at the incoming head and then thrashed it sideways. The reeds ripped from the antlers but more took their place as quickly as they were ripped away. As the antlers ripped at the head, one hand was trying to hold it down, and the other struggled to fight off a tangle of reeds which had taken the form of a scorpion’s tail.

This was the greatest thing that he had ever seen, and he had just been looking at himself from outside of himself. He watched in awe, forgetting about his desire to move from the ruined window and his inability to do so.

Jessy scream brought his rebelling body parts back into control, and he spun around to see where she cowered behind Pa’s chair, peeking out to catch glimpses of it all unfold.

He ran to her and knelt behind the chair with her.

“What’s going on, Tommy?” She cried. Her eyes wide and frantic as she grabbed at him.
“I don’t know, Jess!” He put his arm around her.

The cabin shook as something slammed against the door with a boom. A loud screech pierced the air, followed by a deep guttural growl. Thomas had heard bucks growl before, but this was far deeper, and it seemed to echo within itself. His back was to the fire, but a wave of cold washed over him, and raced down his spine.

He could hear them still struggling outside, but he could not see them. He started to stand, but Jessy clung to him and tried to pull him back down.

“No! Don’t go!”

“I’ll be just a minute,” he hissed. “I need to see where they are. Maybe I can get better shot off.”
She whimpered but did not protest. He ducked low and edged as close to the shattered window, as he could before he slowly peeked over the shattered glass and ruined sill. The scene lit by the light of the moon made his breath catch in his chest.

The deer headed creature held its hooved foot on one struggling reed beast, while it grappled with another, tearing at reeds that seemed to replenish almost as  fast as they were torn away.  It swung hard and flung the reed beast against the oak. The deer then plunged its claws inside of the one beneath its hoof, tearing around as if looking for something. Finally, it gave a high-pitched bark in triumph as it pulled a small glowing stone from the creature which stopped its struggle and fell apart into a mere pile of reeds.

The deer put the stone in a small bag at its side. The reed beast that had been thrown against the tree stood and shook itself. It took an unsteady step, shook itself, and then its head parted, and the resulting screech made Thomas drop the rifle to cover his ears.

It ran at the deer in a flash. The deer lowered its antlers to meet it, when another of the creatures came out of nowhere to jump on its back. The deer flailed as it tried to fling it off.

Thomas picked the rifle back up and scrambled back to Jessy. “They are fighting each other. We need to go!”

“Who are fighting each other?” Jessy cried. “Go where?”

“I…I don’t know what they are!” Thomas said. “We need to go out that window there!”

He pointed to the window on the wall opposite the shattered one.

“We can run straight out into the woods, then round about get to granddad’s. he’ll know what to do from there!”

Jessy hesitantly nodded. “Ok.”

She looked around and then grabbed the wood poker by the fireplace.  Thomas looked out the window to make sure the way was clear, then looked at Jessy.

“When I break it, I will lift you up, and then you run. I will catch up. Got it?”

She nodded again.

Thomas brought the butt of the rifle up to break the glass but didn’t have the chance before it exploded inward towards them.

 ***

 

 © Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

 

Crafting

Crafting

A splash of red paint, 

A few upgrades here and there,

Ain't perfect....but good...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

No more Kentucky runs

No more Kentucky runs

They closed down the bridge,

Traffic is barely crawling

mind numbingly slow...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Storm

Storm

Wake up to a boom!
Thunder seems to shake the house,
rain pounds at my roof...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Night

Night

A cup of hot tea,
and a book to get lost in
preparing for bed...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Improvement

Improvement

Just under fifteen!
More walking than I would like, 
But getting better!

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Remember:

 Remember:

Friend, remember this:
Epstein clients still walk free 
Some walk in Congress...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Pick up:

 Pick up:

We all have that call
we wish we would have answered
since it was the last.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Empty

Empty

Hope met with silence

can turn the heart into stone

and cause faith to fade.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

08/12/26

 08/12/26:

They say tomorrow
is a new Apocalypse.
Tonight: rest here,  Frens...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

The Call

The Call

Our Idols are dead,
our enemies in power,
Destiny beckons...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Library

Library

Walking through the rows

looking for the perfect book

to read with my son.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Duo

 Duo

You might laugh at this 
but I just increased my score
for Esperanto.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Bird Hunters

Bird Hunters

In the dark of night

it is the safest to hunt

to catch them off guard.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

 

Hmmm

Hmmm

A curious find
leads me down a rabbit hole
from ancient Sumer.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Time

Time

First day: Sophomore.
My mind drifts to the first day
she started preschool...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Study

Study

A late night lesson.
The grammar and the vocab
slowly improving. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Meme Score

Meme Score

She laughed at her score
and claimed it was in purpose.
IYKYK.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Apple Juice

Apple Juice

A cup before bed

is not only refreshing

but gives intense dreams. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Forecast

Forecast

The skies may be dark,
but the clouds will disappear 
long before we do. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

¡Arriba!

¡Arriba!

Spain has seen far worse,
And against worse odds triumphed.
So they shall again!

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Grill

Grill

Hamburger and Dogs,

Potato salad and chips, 

A glass of Iced tea....

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Systems

Systems

Trying something new

Goals supported by systems

And not mere focus

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Honored

Honored

Pinch of tobacco, 

A libation of whiskey, 

Blood past and flowing.  

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Chalk

Chalk

A ship, Tic-Tac-Toe,
A few scribbles here and there,
All before the rain. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Bothersome

Bothersome

How disappointing!

No answers at the bottom!

The search continues!

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Hodiaŭ

Hodiaŭ

Ni sunbruliĝis 

dum naĝis ĉe la lago,

sed amuziĝis!

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Sorry

Sorry

I apologize
for the lack of a Haiku...
Oh. Wait. Never mind.  

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

A Pillager Rises

A Pillager Rises

A Pillager stands
rallying his troops before
they raid the village.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Serv

Serv

Swirls and twirls and twists, 

Like a tornado it moves, 

Quickly to it's goal.  

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Reflection

Reflection

All my life, I've tried to play by the rules, 
and now it's half done, i find it's for naught
that men like myself have been played for fools 
that this world is nothing as we were taught.
Equality is fake, fairness a lie,
the rich buy their dreams, the poor drown in debt
so few breaking even before they die,
all 'cause they follow the rules that were set
by men who already own the whole world
to the point good men can't live a good life
even a decent life few can afford,
so we work and work to barely survive.
Is there no happy ending for good men?
Mere existence in a game we can't win? 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Pitter-patter

Pitter-patter

I gained a minute. 

My mile at roughly fifteen.

Pick up the pace, Heath...

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Another

Another

Another chapter
and I am one step closer
to start the redraft.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Bike

Bike

As the sun rises
she quickly learns how to ride
as her old man beams!

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Weep, Western Man!

Weep, Western Man!

Who in their right mind
Would spend five bucks for four cubes?
I weep for the West!

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Scout

Scout

He got past the door, 

and crossed the entire house

before getting shmooshed. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Playtime

Playtime

What do you reckon

these creatures could talk about

other than numbers?

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

How Tempting

 How Tempting

Dare I step inside
to be whisked to unknown lands
by the trickster folk?

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved  

Any interest?

 Any interest?

Out of curiosity, is there any interest of anyone visiting for me to continue with the Keeping Watch story?
If there is, please let me know, otherwise, I will stop with the installments, and just wait to publish once it is finished. 

Lemme know

Endure

Endure

A kick to the gut, 
the silver bullet has failed, 
collapse continues.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

New

New

By the new moon light,

A new path to be revealed...

Truly a blessing!

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Overburdened Beast of Burden

Overburdened Beasts of Burden

How should a man spend his time on this earth?
Chasing paper like a dog would its tail,
that he should crawl on his knees from his birth,
a slave to the rich for years without fail
filling their bank accounts beyond the brim,
yet his children hunger while the rich feast...
He buys the lands that they rent back to him
at such a price he must work like a beast
still barely providing for his own blood.
When the rich man dies, their children are set,
The rich get their tombs, the poor man his mud
Still buried beneath a mountain of debt.
Their last hope: their kids can break the cycle
No longer chained by bastards with titles.   

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Road Running Beauty

Road Running Beauty

Up before the sun, 
watching it rise in the east
as I speed northward.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved  

Morning Reflection

Morning Reflection

I don't know what's worse:
A dream I can't remember
Or no dream at all?

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Friday Frustration

Friday Frustration

Cold sweat, nausea,
Back pain doubles me over...
May the Gods save me!

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Windmills

Windmills

They call it progress.
My kids call it pretty neat. 
I find myself torn. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Imposter

Imposter

I tell the machine

a few prompts to write a book. 

I aM aN aUtHoR

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Corvin? NO!

Corvin? NO!

Folks, I have been (VERY) slowly writing a wee book, with the plan of dropping it on my blog for any and all to read piece by piece. 
As I write, I use Google Docs. 
While writing, I sought a strong name for one of my Characters that was popular for the area I am writing. 
Corvin. 
I say that to say this.  
In the past two weeks, I have heard the name used in no less than four...FOUR... AI sci-fi Slop stories. You know AI Slop stories, right? Stories that are SUPPOSED to have been written by the author,  but you slowly and surely realize is AI generated?
I've not got money to throw around (yet) so I use Google Docs for my writing in progress, and lately I've been informed that Google Docs lets AI scan to improve its own writing. 
So ultimately, I can't help but Wonder if by my posting on my blog has opened my stories up and my poetry up for free review by AI or, if the rumors of Google Docs allowing AI to scan with abandon the works contained within it by unsuspecting authors are true...
I admit that I have used an AI music generator to put music to my own poems to turn them into songs as I do not know how to play an instrument yet and I'm 50/50 certain that people's ears would bleed if they heard me sing. But I've posted those songs with the note that it was a tune generated to go with my song/poem, and have never tried to pass it off otherwise. 
Folks, I deplore the idea of stories and novels being generated solely with AI with mere prompts and no human creativity involved whatsoever. (Or the only human creativity involved being that which is 'stolen' via scanning or copy and pasting). 
The fact that these stories are being offered up by so-called authors who hide the fact that they are using AI and an attempt merely to make money is a shameful and contemptible fact. These self described so-called "authors" would rather dilute and pollute the zeitgeist with AI slop in order to make a fast dime without regard for the detrimental impact that it has on human Poetry and Prose, and once discovered, they should be ostracized from any platform they attempt to use. 
I have absolutely no problem with people using AI for what it is: a tool. Using AI for editing purposes grammatical clarity or even bouncing ideas off of to fix plot points that they just can't quite get through, I cannot argue with them at all for this purpose. But for them to use AI to generate an entire poem short story novella or novel to pass off as their own should be in its own right considered a crime against humanity or at least a crime against human creativity in its most vile form.
 So, I do not know if my work as labored as it is with my tight schedule, is being scanned by AI by Google, or some one is using my free posts as their own copy and past bin, but the idea that anything that I create being used to further these lazy and pathetic crimes against the intellect is sickening as it is disgraceful.
 Of course who knows? Maybe I am just being paranoid and Corvin is a more popular name than I could have imagined when I plucked it from the records...
... but in the event that what I feel has happened is accurate, I am nauseated. And I will need to seek a new process in which to write to keep it from being used to generate AI slop from either Corporation or individual greed. I appreciate everyone who reads my work as lame as it may be and as labored as it may be in the time constraints that I have had lately. It is my intent to double down on my time schedule and daily organization in order to write more consistently and finish more work in general. 
I hope that my work reaches those who genuinely like to read ACTUAL human created content, and is successfully veiled from the Bots and the AI bottom feeders who prey on us all. 
I know I don't have a huge fan base, and so this message may just be its own intellectual scream into the void...yet scream I shall. 
And the few of you who do read my poetry, my stories, and reach out to me: Thank you for actually doing so. 

Humanity will prevail.  

Watchful Eye

 Watchful Eye

He poked his head out

to make sure I was leaving

before coming out. 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

What Luck!

What Luck!

Look at this beauty!
It fluttered by and landed
right in front of us!
 

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Memory

Memory 

Playing memory,

my youngest is so happy

making memories

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Independence Day '26

Independence Day '26

Two hundred fifty.
We are still a young nation,
with work to be done.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Komencanto

Komencanto 

Mi ne parolas
sed mi tre volas lerni,
kaj do mi provas.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Well... damn

Well…damn.

 
He flew around me
And dove straight into my ranch,
Thrashed a bit, then sank…

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved 

Still Standing

Still Standing 

There once was a home
where an empty field now stands...
now a memory.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved

Author note: Demolished in late 90s. But I remember it well. It sat up long drive way, surrounded by fields and a patch of woods that we would hunt with our old man. An Oak in front, and a giant proud Elm in back.

I went to see it last year, and the Trees are still there, a bit weathered, but still standing proudly as ever. There is still the barn where the current farmer has pigs and there are various equipment sitting here and there.

I crossed the covert at the end of the lane that served as our boundary for riding our bikes and walking around, drove up past where there used to be tangles of Mulberries growing in the fence line that is now gone. I parked just at the head of the drive where we used to park and got out.

The lot where the house stood covered in farm equipment, but I could still see what it looked like so many years ago when I closed my eyes.

The porch with a wooden roof, covered in a pale green tin where we sat watching the storms roll in. Where we sat and watched the rain splash down and listened to it bounce off the tin above us while my old man smoked his cigar, or had a beer, and my mother read by the light of the single exposed bulb by the door. The same porch that they watched us try to learn to ride our bikes once they showed us how it was done, and where we would run around to catch lightning bugs before bed.

It opened into the Living room where the wood stove sat well tended, providing a warmth in the chill of winter that I feel a shadow of whenever I am by an open fire. The front room where we would watch scary movies and then go outside at night to play "Grave Yard" tag; the kitchen where dad always had us well stocked with food though money was pretty tight for a good while.

From the upstairs bedrooms with the creepy attic entrance, to the downstairs storage room remodeled into a bedroom with easy access to the storm cellar...it all stands there perfectly in my mind when I close my eyes.

The rustle of the leaves in the breeze almost lullabied me into the lie that when I opened my eyes I would be transported back decades to see my mom on the porch, my siblings on their bikes, or my dad riding back from the woods on the old farmall with a load of wood in the trailer behind him.

But when I opened my eyes...I was met with the relative emptiness before me.

Now, I confess, it is my hope one day to have a property of my own to offer such memories and happiness for my own kids. One where they don't have to return to in memory, but in real time and happiness.

But as far as the farm house is concerned, perhaps it's full memory will pass with me and my siblings...but a glimpse of it has now been shown to you, and at least in that aspect the memory that once there was a happy little home in that empty lot in rural Indiana will live on with you.

And I wish you a long and happy life with that thought.