HeyJaredPepper Miller
I'm an eighty-year-old white man, married to my lovely wife for 56 wonderful years. I teach two Poetry and Creative Writing classes at the Senior Action Center in Greenville, SC.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 12
- Latest publication
- Sep 18, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Aug 8, 2026
Latest issues
SUICIDE INCREASES FOR MIDDLE AGE MALES (opens the original)
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I too at one time seriously considered suicide, after my five heart by-passes.My wife and two kids were sound asleep. We lived a block off a really busy street, and it was 3:00am. Traffic was still running at about 45mph. As I walked along the sidewalk, I planed to step out in front of one of the speeding cars . I was walking facing the oncoming cars so I could pick out which vehicle I wanted to die front of. I figured that I would step out very quickly as they approached me. There would be no w
LOSING THE TASTE OF YOU (opens the original)
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There are truths I have never spoken aloud,but tonight they rise in me like a tide I cannot hold back.I do not fear losing youAs much as I fear losing the taste of you—-the way your presence settles into my lifewith a warmth I never knew I deserved.You have become the quiet sweetnessthat lingers long after the moment ends,the memory that rests on my tongueeven when the room is empty.If distance ever comes between us,if time tries to steal you away,know that what terrifies me most is not the spac
THE HEART OF THE MATTER (opens the original)
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THE HEART OF THE MATTERA heavy heart, a silent cryPepper MillerFeb 26, 2026The Heart of the MatterIn chambers deep, the heart begins, A steady thrum beneath the skin. More than muscle, more than beat, It holds the soul in rhythms sweet.He has won her heart, they say, With words that swept her fears away. A glance, a smile, a whispered part— He touched the corners of her heart.But hearts can break, and often do, When love departs without adieu. A heavy h
A PRISON WITHOUT BARS (opens the original)
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For anyone who has ever felt lost in their own darkness...Pepper MillerAug 24, 2026Some prisons are built of iron bars; mine was built of blue.I woke beneath a painted sky,A shade of blue that wouldn’t die.It stained the corners of my mind,Like echoes of the past behind.The ocean wore that color too,A mirror of the sorrow I knew.Its waves would call, its tides would pull,Yet leave my empty hands still full.Blue in the dawn, blue in the rain,Blue in the silence aft
THE FIRST DAYS OF SEPTEMBER (opens the original)
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THE FIRST DAYS OF SEPTEMBER September enters like a hyphen separating the long hot summer into a cooler period of weather. It’s Like a hinge--month where temps come and go like a door swinging back and forth.SOME PEOPLE CALL SEPTEMBER THE DOORWAY MONTHWhen September finally arrives, it leaves you standing in the doorway of your own awareness — one hand in the past, the other reaching for whatever waits in the cooling air.SEPTEMBER — THE MONTH THAT TEACHES US TO LISTEN Septem
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