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 |    10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
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I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost | I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me This poet’s words collect, arrange on a kaleidoscope spectrum. The experience of discovery through writing is the truest reward that has allowed me to grow and learn who/what I am — what other people get naturally, immediately, while I stomp around in it. Been blessed, but pushing it — envelope, world and all inhabitants away. Push buttons, find boundaries to trip traps. No clue why cat curiosity, living in your dark. (Bored, perhaps?) Now and then, push dirt out of this hole; someone/thing/entity might envision me how I need to be viewed (if I knew what that was). Cryptic, yes. Try living in my dark, find comfort amid strange, virtual, wonderful walls that tower above, tempt me to scale. Been more than I could imagine or expect here. But, achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall  . I dig deeper than I should, often without forethought. Aimless words, brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit targets? Get a ‘back off’ shoulder shot when asking your motivations here. Not fair?No prize to eye; not incentivized. Dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do best with what’s in hand. My Pluggers: You are an icon here.  You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.  It’s like plugging myself, but using other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "Poetic Referendum(s) On Life"  Your poetic muse is on fire!  Some great emotion, well-balance(d), lovely lyrical qualities -- even the ones that were written out of sadness or anger came through in a clever cadence…It's obvious you've put a lot of work into each entry and the totality of the blog has eye appeal.  Published four times with one a literary journal, including…  "The Tender Core (Sedona)"  I don’t submit because it’s too much work. Truly alone, know no one cares to show they believe/support me. Lip service feeds delusion. I’ve seen a lot of smoldering and snow. Try not be cynical, work hard at openness and consideration — work, sooo…gut thing.   ![Merit Badge in Taboo Words
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Brian,
Congratulations! You won 1st Place in Taboo Words with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1027659].
I absolutely loved this! *^*Heart*^*
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Taboo_Words-2139481_13.gif) ![Merit Badge in Poetry
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Thanks you for supporting the [Link To Item #power] with an order to the [Link To Item #powergifts] ! We appreciate it. *^*Heartv*^* Keep writing the beautiful poetry. [Link to Book Entry #1027659] is an awesome poem! *^*Starv*^* ~Lornda](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/type-Poetry-2180.gif)  August 28, 2006 this blog opened ▼
No specific aim going forward (2014) ▼  Now: I was such a whore.  This is old….What? Oh, this? A rhetorical, self-motivational speech I'm working on. Don't just read the parts to construct your theory, as if to confirm (construed out of context) your opinion, mentally-stunted Neanderthal. Therapist wants me to be less negative toward myself. I see it as attacking, rather than being defensive. Fear I will chomp too many bullets unintentionally sent toward the unsuspecting. If you can be triggered for stupid reasons, then I? …just looked like me rolling around on the floor with myself.    What Was NEW Who am I, you ask? My mirror knows that question, repeated daily. Just trying to create a little buzz, not boost my ego.  #amwriting #poetry #blog #contest #freeverse #award #bestpoetry #freyaridings #lyrics #music #video #YouTube Can you believe it took this long for someone to put a quarter in me and push the button GET ANGRY? Mud 4 My Eye:  Is that you, Poo? 💩 Secret Back Door ▼ |
| Pot Of Hope I know we're supposed to whisper -- but we left him in the hall. why spend $9.95 to have him when we don't think of him at all. Midday, lone shaft of light angles to reach over the rail into the corner where he lays alone, you on the phone, me in my mind wandering to and from this place. He could be be so pale, no love but neglect of a dream of ownership, the promise in a bucket with a brilliant, little sticker adorning his crib, now coffin, in this less cozy, little home. Did my dream become his, to produce and reproduce, give love we had, serve a couple in need of a little more ambience, like potpourri burning nasal passages to connected brain, no memory just credit to buy an affordable, middle class pot of hope? Death was long before adoption, a struggle for light, and taste for a drop of tap water in nutrient-rich dirt -- lifelong nap, not a rare colored iris will wink awake in the dead of these nights. 1.27.22 I think we're all destined to dream of something unrealistic for just $9.95, today... delusionally waste time, invoke it into mind-f'd reality. A little dream of ownership with no skills to cultivate life. It sounds harsh: but, fuck everybody for imposing their reality into mine... especially, the ignorant sentimental fools who are not awake tonight. (Sad I must disclaimer: metaphorically, not literally...if you even know the difference from...nevermind. Point made?) |
| The tender heart of you bleeds for a purpose. My ears ache to savor labored Words pain. My hands want to feel the dark heart throbbing. My eyes aim penetrate the most guarded soul. You solidly look up. Steady, I do not shudder. Your pain lives in me now in deepest recesses. You can access any part of me, share our blood. Resistant, you do not trust the likes of me. I'll sing my sorrow for another tomorrow knowing I absorb these disturbed visions with no egress out. My arms would wrap you like blooming vines, but Nothing grows in the dark where you are now. A little sunlight will creep over the hedge between us, One day, hopefully two flowing through one another. 1.20.22 Just stream on consciousness with discipline to craft a hopeful poem. |
| I could write you a eulogy every night, Pack away those tiny words in tiny type -- Click, click, clack away a story Hidden from all those redirected eyes. The steel writer gathers dust, rust. The black ribbon unspooled stains a blank page like murder scene clues. The detectives all look the other way. I'm dead here anyway, tall grass grave With interlaced daisies bright on dry blood. I had many years, many chances, But chose to piddle it all away -- A brain masturbating itself into decay, The rotting gray in numb skull withered. I scrawled my random messages on walls: White on white, black on black, now blue, As green layered by white seals my fate -- A corpse on this hard lawn, composting. When spring arrives, words fully absorb. You could ask anyone, I was never here. An obit didn't run, a toll for words spun, unpaid. Ask the editor if he keeps me in a Manila file. 1.20.22 I really don't know. Tap, tap, tap and then... |
| Images hammered on the canvas, dark. But not good enough to attend. Devoid a life promised, I bust the medium. Reimagined words spurred by rampage Stain all who near the re-creation. Why didn't they tell me, no wit, You cannot change an atom? Blood purged -- collected and flushed. Hands bandaged -- heal with time. One day the sun re-arrives From perfect vantage in glowing pane -- A perfect instant -- and I knew Hopeful creativity had purpose again. 1.8.22 Never say never, just maybe, later. |
| I’ll be dead tomorrow. Give me a ride aboard your flaming craft, kicked away from silent shore, adrift wherever the tide should go. Vacuous elements in observance soothe a scene. But absent, a shadow of soul in grey-fog reverie. I could die tonight on starched-tight linen where I linger many weeks. Scoop me up in your arms at dawn. Hope the sun appears. Soak me in kerosene. Burn me with oars beside. Give an old tub purpose first glimmer of morning light. Singe my last hair, cast adrift for any horizon until sunk — flamed out, black ash, lead weight. In hidden harbor, buried there, I’ll be dead tomorrow. No eulogies sung or needed. 1.5.21 1.7.22 and 2.3.22 edit Made up while listening to Frou Frou in my Covid quarantine funk, day three. |
| Solemnly run, predictive models of outcomes measured by gut punches — reactions to the likes of you, sneering, who eye, approach a solemn figure recalculating the models, wondering if I can trust your ‘sort.’ Experience taught uninformed me to become cynic, who you plead drop the gloves, let guard down. Well, since you implore, it must be safe. Flinchingly, I behave like a fool, a precedent having already been set, as outcomes form from the calculator treating Math as an emotional subject. 12.30.21 |
If I could boil it down to a few words that illuminate, I would If I could write it down with the briefest definition, I would try If I could show you how I feel in just one expression, I would try emote, but, so many vistas to follow, so many stars in my eyes I often have to wait until the darkest night to get the truest vision to share with you, if you haven't tired of being at my side If I could, I would maybe, I have 12.29.21 perhaps, you have visions of your own that I haven't taken the time to listen no, I did |
| my heart could be a drum you beat upon my soul clangs as my engine sputters no brakes, no steering down this street careening off the curb, headed for your house the shrubs could rip at the root flowers strewn across a hopeful garden because you could be the piston's percussion a mechanic with a wrench rachets the tight bearings of something hoping to disconnect my assembly before I drive straight into the living room of your lovely home. does love mean having the patience for something, someone built with good intention, wheeled to ride a winding road leading to your welcoming garage door, before i could separate from this machine, unlike the cyborg still coupled to beating, the rhythm of something that tells me depart and roll these hills and valleys to meet with a mechanic who could help me restore all the purpose the machine was intended for. why run-on poems like these? show the desperation to express something before interjection? could someone measure the length of these expressions? 12.29.21 |
watch that anorexic model sing hair falling out beneath a stylish leopard print cap. garments hanging off her gaunt rack — glimmering garb drapes a beleaguered soul perilously vocalizing all my fearful heart contains, a ruptured soul like yours clinging to hope someone is listening and ready with daring arms to drape this empty form. Let Go Frou Frou 12.29.21 (private) 1.5.21 edit, add (now public) |
| The aching has returned to my eyes, each night I dream about you again, dream we're together in a bright nuclear vision -- a blast that slowly blinds me forces to me to forget but see a fading smile. Yearning and waking again, I would lean into your skin taste your tender lips for warmth I cannot savor in these night reveries -- of you and me flying cavorting upon a shore of an endless pale sea. your hands reach for me, taken back by determined tides. a rising sun obliterates eyes blocked by impending reality and the renewal of such purposeless days wishing I could dream the rest of life away. 12.28.21 edit later. written in 3 1/2 minutes to Sinful by Rhye |
| Worn Grindstone You’re grinding an ax and I can see you’re not willing to listen sparks fly from the blade as you hone steel to suffice and I who just wants to make sure you don’t need to use that ax is willing to confide whatever you need to hear so you can let the Grindstone rest. 12.22.21 |
| What is keeping the stars apart? What is in my heart (that was many times torn apart)? I cannot venture — but — (in my mind) to that glowing, wondrous galaxy, capturing a fool every night dreaming. What is keeping me, (in abstentia) from rejoining: welcoming arms, busses upon cheeks, shining faces brighter than a lone, dim one (once the sun, gleaming) before a supernova sent me? Hiding in this dark, I wonder each night where each of you are, if you'll near me, the right one heal me, heal my heart, (so) no longer vexed by (this) unwillingness to be torn apart, again. I carry it, too (I fear). 12/10/21 It doesn't have to all be sad. But it is. |
| Where I've bled, a trail leads to a death bed. Regenerate my heart, or prepare as purpose for soil. Where I'm led, a thousand dull faces blink when I enter their chamber. My only indication -- noticed. Where I dream go, a dull memory of repressed guilt for foolishness inspired by comic heroes. Too late learned, they couldn't possibly exist. It murdered me to learn I couldn't possibly co-exist without compassion to inspire confession. And what would that be? Ignorant, unchangeable. Blindfold me now. Back against their wall. 12/3/21 2.4.22 edit condemn me for my ignorance. As a man, I'm but a child with two parents: one TV. Brainwashing is too strong of an accusation from one so awkwardly susceptible to think he could fit in. |
| All my God ever asked was try Not succeed, not bleed for this All my God asked was give Not too much, but what he needs All the world wanted from me Was my flesh, bones, eyes Pay my debts like a ransome To release this beleaguered soul asking Where is my God during all this? All my love ever asked was a kiss But that was only the start of it My love needed my hand, continuous Support until death we part All that has grown in my garden seeds Bears more fruit that pass from beak to land All that I've ever sewn there is weeded But struggles more to riise each spring When I look to the sky Does he see me lying on the ground With a frown begging to reap? Does my God even know I've died? With the daisies interlaced surround. 12/3/21 |
| No one knows how to sew anymore. There's a thread that got loose, snagged and tore beautiful cloth woven to form the shape of your body that you look at now with such scorn that it must be thrown out. It's not easy to repair with a needle and complimentary thread by hand or machine, not even worthy of donation to some charity for repurpose, but to rot in some hole in the earth that heavy equipment bury with so much more sorrow, lost in a landfill of bright hope, driven underground. Mother is buried there, too. Meanwhile, there is always some new fashion to try on, rather than seek the comfort of an old sweater. Perhaps, some of us keep these mementos of the past, filling drawers with regret that we never learned from her how to sew. Pull that drawer open, look and sigh and wait to die, wishing you had courage, wishing not to have to look anymore. This needle I wield pricks. 11.18/24.21 1.19.22 last line add 37 lines, free verse |
| Not morose thoughts of life after death surfacing, air escaping, dreaming of some accepting heaven. Not foolish thoughts to finalize surfacing, but escape, dream of some haven embracing a lone refugee. Why do these minuscule prisoners seek asylum, to free my brain? They teem and bond and offer credence surfacing, clouds of steam producing enough water to send a surging river seeking, yearning freedom of thought: break the levee. Where will I flow then? 11/18/21 note ▼ |
| Hazel eyes widened, gathered light, became amber-glowing — two suns rising on our horizon. I wanted to behold longer but my own eyes wandered to the spreading smile — two soft, red lips, shapely like her heart. Did her cheeks blush, body elongate to receive this solemn figure? Her chest puffed, as did mine with pride that this woman would greet so fondly a solemn man standing on the bow of some great ship. A spool sputtered inked tape. A chance transaction ended before newfound courage could discover a route to her hidden Atlantis. 11.10.21 12.31.21 edit plus add borrowing from another writer to perfect amber eyes description. |
| I’ll just start driving through the neighborhoods of my mind - nothing is what I remember - if I sleep I dream all unfamiliar people - oil paintings drip to the floor, beg me step in the puddled colors, walk new images from feet to my family home - it’s a mess... like a bridge I could dream this vision to the past, too. but construct it with my waking mind, hoping to reawaken what long has been idle - so I can meet you again - - man in the mirror that no one seems to know - - I forget him too - I walk through these neighborhoods in my mind. no one home. 11.7.21 11.10.21 11.21.21 last edit? I may never finish this...uh, metaphor...I took a stab at it. |
| From The Sideline (Watching Cancel Culture) My life is unlearn everything you know, or components of it, but figure out on your own which parts. Or, just throw yourself out. Or, just accept you’re defective, reduced to public scorn, labeled a Karen or Boomer, some kind of racist. Just conform already (when you figure it out, straighten out, resubmit yourself for consideration) and get with the flow (or fake it perfectly), keeping your head low (knowing ageism is around every corner), and maybe, no one will call you out. You might survive this (or it redirects, changes mid-stream in 15 minutes) as you eye the cellar of your thoughts. There’s no escape from drama or indifference. Be neither protagonist or villain and watch and cringe or laugh from the sideline. Let’s not learn their game, okay? half-time, fourth quarter, two-minute warning, heading to overtime? You, with your sports metaphors. Take a timeout. 11/10/21 |
| I can save the world, civilization, with a pen stroke. mankind survives on my words, illuminated, projected in a universe, inner sanctum -- postings from an underworld where words are flesh-eating monsters ravaging all. my pen is bright Excalibur wielded in informative fashion, that I might save the ignorant, defenseless against famine for words bleeding on luminescent pages like ink but don't stain, revolve on waves of intermittent light wavering throughout these shared galaxies of rubble, shine through channels and portals mirrored and deflected, bouncing off each rock into a black space without gravity, boundless for some other cosmos in hopes someone will hear. I can save the world if I write these odes to someone who'll listen. I am not infinite, trapped in a bottle of time, cast to a sea that rolls away from this orb on waves out to a heaven somewhere, should it exist, unlike the purgatory I now realize eating me and all mankind from within while we look out. is there some message of hope out there like mine? wait. I haven't said anything yet, because it's all just a dream. all of this is the collective imagination of something greater, if you listen to mouths with way too much money, like elon musk. 11.8.21 12.10.21 just some nonsense. or is it? unedited or edited. let me go back to sleep and if I wake up... Short Version: Turn The Page ▼ |
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— 21
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— 29![Merit Badge in Shadows and Light
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A huge congratulations, to you!
You have won a very deserved Honourable Mention in [Link To Item #shadows] , round 112 *^*Smile*^*
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Shadows_and_Light-1936078_14.gif)
![Merit Badge in Shadows & Light II
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Brian,
Congratulations! You won 1st Place in [Link To Item #shadows] with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1037176]. Fabulous writing!
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Shadows_=38_Light_II-1936078_14.gif)
— 9
MAY 
37![Merit Badge in Coffee Award
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Congratulations on placing 2nd in [Link To Item #2182602] with your poem, [Link to Book Entry #1031722]. *^*Coffeeo*^* Kindest Regards, Lilli](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Coffee_Award-2149524_14.gif)
APRIL 
![Merit Badge in Humorous Poetry Contest
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Congratulations on the third place win at [Link To Item #hpc] for your poem: [Link to Book Entry #1030482]. Thanks for making me laugh, and keep writing the funny stuff! *^*Bigsmile*^* ~Lornda A.K.A. The Queen of Comedy *^*Crown*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Humorous_Poetry_Contest-1875103_14.gif)
MARCH 
![Merit Badge in Contests
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CONGRATULATIONS for winning 2nd place in [Link To Item #2254385] !!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Contests-235.gif)
![Merit Badge in WDC Media Prompt
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Thank you for your participation in the 48-HOUR CHALLENGE: " Thank You by Dido ." Media Prompt hosted by [Link To User support] March 2022! We appreciate that you tackled this challenge... *^*Smile*^* *^*Thumbsupl*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/WDC-WDC_Media_Prompt.gif)
![Merit Badge in Good Things Take Time
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Here's to a world where we wouldn't have to keep reciting the words woven in your excellent poem [Link to Book Entry #1027990].](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Good_Things_Take_Time.gif)
![Merit Badge in Gay Lesbian
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Thank you so much for your poem [Link to Book Entry #1026670]! Please don’t ever stop being you, both as a writer and a visionary of love!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Gay_Lesbian-680.gif)
JANUARY 
18
![Merit Badge in Quill Award
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Congratulations on winning Best Medium-Length Poem, Free Verse in the 2021 edition of The Quills!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Award-1375927_6.gif)
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Thank you for your generous donation to [Link To Item #quillhome] ! *^*Quill*^* Every donation is used to celebrate WdC while recognizing quality work and acknowledging community involvement. Kindest Regards, Lilli](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Sponsor-1375927_6.gif)
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Congratulations on winning 1st Place in the September 2022 round of [Link To Item #quotation] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/WDC-Quotation_Inspiration.gif)
![Merit Badge in Artistic
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Congratulations on winning day 6 of The Daily Poem Sept 2022!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Artistic-125.gif)
![Merit Badge in Problem Solving
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From [Link To User jayne] : With my apologies for the Redaction Poem prompt mishap. Thank you for taking on the challenge! I hope to see you next time for a redaction-free week of fun at [Link To Item #dailypoem] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Problem_Solving-210.gif)
![Merit Badge in Inspiring Love For Poetry
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Congratulations on being our Honorable Mention in March of 2022 at [Link To Item #2216416] !
Blessings, Sharmelle](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Inspiring_Love_For_Poetry-2259846_14.gif)
![Merit Badge in Action Adventure
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CONGRATULATIONS for [Link To Item #2229211] winning place as an Honourable Mention in [Link To Item #2254385] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Action_Adventure-100.gif)
![Merit Badge in Bard's Hall Blogging Merit Badge
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For placing 3rd in the Bard's Hall Blogging Contest, June 2022](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Bard=s_Hall_Blogging_Merit_Badge-2094227_12.gif){kind=icon}
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Congratulations for winning 1st Place during the April 2022 round of [Link To Item #2268646] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-G_Specials-2271325_14.gif)
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Congratulations on your 1st Place win in the April 2022 Round of Chapter One! Great entry! *^*Smile*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Chapter_1-2251918_14.gif)
![Merit Badge in Accuracy
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Congratulations to our 1st Runner Up of [Link To Item #2254385] Round6.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Accuracy.gif)
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Congrats Team Pedantic Poets Platoon on winning [Link To Item #1803384] during WDC's 21st Birthday Festivities!! Well done!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-30DBC_Winner-2064535_14.gif)
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A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art.
― Paul Cezanne
Thanks for your participation in my 'art' challenge via my notebook feed.
Keep on being inspired! *^*Bigsmile*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Every_Moment_Matters.gif)
![Merit Badge in Brilliant
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CONGRATULATIONS on [Link To Item #1145690] winning a place in "Honorable Mentions" in [Link To Item #2254385]](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Brilliant.gif)
