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 |    10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
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Like one of those adventure games where you go off questing in different directions but you don’t advance like the others. You earn pretty medallions gallantly while other players buy, sell and trade at market to get ahead without moving an inch. Slow burn…hey? You’d rather keep your dignity, or try to figure out their game. That’s where you really get lost. Game full of misdirects leads right back to start over and over. You could have stayed on your quest. Now, you have this. Redacted, censored, gaslighted…must be doing something right, my old boss would say. I’m not a sociopath, he tells himself. Equal parts, then? Mom should have had me tested. Because, life of turmoil produces stuff like this. Not going to call it beautiful agony…it gets a bit ugly.Tap on them. It’s part of the quest…see where I’ve been; see who I am:                     Right. I redact myself. The beautiful mess you made. Who are you? If I’ve been denied the right of knowledge, I’ve earned the right to judge. | Without knowledge, who’s to judge? | No gavel; no voice. "...politely reedy but ambitiously eclectic—moving effortlessly from hen-picking and bottleneck slides to a full deck of chucka-chucka rhythm figures." I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost | I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. *Neurodivergent poet. *Don’t judge/hate. I love. *Honesty without mincing words. *Dump your prejudice outside my door. Hope you leave it on the way out. *Nothing to fear but people who surround themselves with rules, can’t be touched. *Real dialogue accepted. My words collect, arrange on a kaleidoscope spectrum. The true experience/acknowledgment of my writing yet to come...long after I’ve left WDC, am dead, or both. Truly been a blessing, but I've been pushing it — envelope, push world and all inhabitants away, push buttons to find boundaries, having no clue or told where they lie, where I've lived in your dark. Now and then, push dirt out of this hole; someone/thing/entity might envision me the way I need to be viewed. (if I knew what that was. Cryptic, I know. Try living in my dark, find comfort amid the strange, virtual walls that tempt me to try). *The parenthetical lawyer up? Foot free, I’m all over the place. Best Poetry Collection 2X, nominated three years. What does it mean? I was enjoying myself, head bagged. A happy idiot. Something messed with that. I won’t be a coward; not starting feuds or wars over ideals and beliefs. We all know that’s a pile of crap packaged with dreams of pretty things to sell the next boob that walks by.  Been more than I could imagine or expect. My achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall. But, I get it. You're sick of me. It's how I feel about myself when I dig deeper, push boundaries. Don’t care my words that aim for honesty, either brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit a target. Get a back off shoulder shot for asking your motivations to write…won’t get me to bend over backwards to appease, again. There’s no prize to eye, not properly incentivized. So, does it mean when dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do the best with what you got? Yeah, rigged. Yeah, other tables — other ‘games’. But, something in my gut I’ll never be rid. My Pluggers: You are an icon here.  You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.{/blue}  It’s like plugging myself, but using other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋"  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 ▼ |
The Romantic Version Summer shadows ripped light from our cabin like frames of film reeled, lapsing our time. In my fast car we drove. I had purpose. You needed a break from your tormentor -- sought my tanned arms hopefully gripping the wheel tight. With the beach in sight, my dreams packed in a hollow heart. Smell of hot pavement crept up where we parked. Our long towels found shelter beneath birch, on bluffs before timeless sand. In sunglasses and smiles, never saw you laugh so much -- made me forgot to seduce you. Our perfect forms barely clad, swam, dried, sang; swam, lotioned and tanned in bright, lasting time. We cried joyous with wine-imbibed, reddening lips tendered but undelivered. The sun failed me that day, dipping too soon in our glossy, green lake. I wanted to hold you, give you my body's warmth when breezes brushed us off our idle shore. The longest walk to the last car -- must have witnessed every stone on exit from a cold park. Serious, I didn't want to wash away that silly grin. I was forcing smiles -- the reverse tide home -- watching your silhouette form. Each glance away from our highway brought wonder, would you finally be done with him? I delivered you safe to your apartment, platonic. Words in my head died on journey to lips too tense to play beneath the lamp of a long opened doorway. I wondered if you saw bluebirds caged, long fly into your night, nestle within bosom and arm. The light dimmed more days before I saw you and him, linked by hand, moving on. A hard neck stilled the wondering head, imagining your lingering eye over his shoulder. with concern? Your choice, flawed; bound anyway to break a hopeful fool that dared laugh along, in escape, on your dark day. Bright, one of us healed in the sun. I admit, many nights my slow car rolled past your porch light. Emotion melded with the light in another season. Eternal, sun-seared memory in my skin flies like the pulverized car, scrapped in a sandy, leaf-draped beach. You helped me realize the best version of my romantic self was unselfish. I've known rejection, even as the most beautiful boy in the room. Girls eyes sparkled when viewing me. The bravest sought me out, not realizing I could brood because I knew their fascination would fade. I wasn't your typical boy, the kind a girl imagined more than a dalliance with. I was only focused on perfect, true, eternal love. Some got my hopes up, relationships lasting as long as two months. I may have been conditioned to make the repeated rejection my thing. It's how I define myself to this day. It's sociopathic, seeking and compelling rejection to feed the pitiful artist. If I'm not getting rejected soon enough, I become provocative, test boundaries until I prove the final result true. I'm not worthy. I'm aware. I can tone it down. The flare ups are overwhelming, so I take it one day at a time. It's a part of me that will take a lot of therapy to partly expunge. I can't be a better man for you. I'll give you glimpses of my promise before self-destructing again and again. You get to have a hand in it. I know how you operate and how willing you are. Does it make you question why you participate, even by being indifferent to it? Maybe I'm the lone manipulator in these relationships. If I had it figured out...well, I wouldn't be where I am.    Entry written but not offered for:
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Foolproof Before we climb the stair, we should just sit here, meld by the dimming fire, scan the sky for stars tonight. Hold my hand tight, feel that we're right; thoughts become one in silence. Look, see boughs of evergreen alight from smokey plumes that rise; watch over we two, huddled in lawn chairs, sharing one last beer. In hoodies, huddle near; so vacuous, the sky can't steal remaining heat. It's foolproof. Molecules between us bathe in dimming dark. Mosquitos respect our blood, don't mark our skin. A smile spans my face, been stuck in our space since spring brought us hope of summer. And, I'm lingering tonight, preserve what feels right, to savor the only true light from your eyes. Don't think you realize just yet, how perfect, though I know you're tired, indulge me. It's foolproof, lifelong love we're bound to share, dim these thoughts to chill, you have me to hold as we rise. Turn out the backyard lamp; weather got too damp. So, together we climb, seek the bed for dry comfort. I'll love you every day, with each reimagined way. I know you'll hear me say, it's foolproof, our love. When the dark returns, silent, just me and you. Quiet in the dark 'til the last ember spark, foolproof. Wrote live in blog with no edits...yet? |
| metallic clanks rhythms of machination in our dark garage on father's work bench a vice tightens squeezes life from captured objects breathing inward a devious child twists truth from blood until white emotions drain in red wails like clawing feather dusters until the eyes pop out. |
Your Halls In your walls, I have bled, Imagined vistas, without seamless glass. No doors in these caves lead out; though I've seen the bright sun shone in my dull eyes, unable to grasp meaning. I am tender to its heat. In your halls, once I was naively led by your haloed lovelies, without arms lifted me up from the dead. Propped in your garden for all to view, visualized in my secluded hell how to dream like you with foot-damped dew. By nightfall I was entombed again, wondering if I have ever been. Why does your plaster bind me within? Morning is eternal to the deities I remotely witness. Fruit placed at their bathed feet, an aroma sweet. In your halls, I no longer greet lonely faces like mine. My chamber, my tomb forever I'll be, sprouting love like vines on the corridor endlessly, knowing this can be my heaven. I need not share this inner sanctum as your undelivered. For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" No offense, or don't take this the wrong way? We've all been judged by lesser fools. |
Fading Time-Kissed Memory Sun filtered by birch, the tender tides sogged suits gripped by sand. Your soft lips warm, slow, reached my mouth. Earth enveloped our youthful forms. Abandoned by friends, aware a kindling romance, we could have stayed hours, cooled by night, gentle in baptismal waters. Eyes showered by love from hot stars, imagined the distance from Venus to Mars. Our wine coolers drained, dialed time shadows in our setting scene, across torsos tangled. The only planets gazed upon sparkled on the ground. Green irises gleamed, perfectly planted in your blonde garden, wading like hydrilla beneath my form, too young to know then. I've learned since, why we never swam beyond that timeless shore -- theatre on thin film inside my foggy head. I loved you then, as much as the fading memory now. Thirteen - Big Star |
Oratory On Dirt A younger man built a platform to hang a noose, never expecting heels would swing with friendless wind. An audience would gather, not for his oratory, but see glint blade sever chords from a misused head. His corpse in heat to rot beneath a grey mound, eaten hollow from inside. Bleed words; waste not one, if they won't listen. Who gives a fuck anyway. If a silent chorus drowns the single voice, sharper notes sing from hills on their way deep to the valleys and choral heavens where truth is appreciated. This is the time to set moths free, now that he's dead in your heaped dirt. For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" I didn't want to go dark this month. I can't control the tides. But who should give a fuck, he said rhetorically. Edit to make public 2.21.22 with 0 views. How are you viewing this? if I see a view after this, 15 pages deep in blog? Something made public on page 2 today got it's first view within hours after being edited to public: "Blank" Will there be more? |
| Engulfed I lean into the door. Rhythms pump hard against my cold flesh, this dull skin that yearns let you in. The bass pronounces these beats to my blood -- thin red rivers with no sea to flow, no place to go but this pond, overflowing. Without your arms to hold back the immersing tides, soggy fields fill joyless. I lean into this car parked, idling -- no desire pull keys from this ignition. A machine already fired, sun streams warm through guarded glass. Cold outside this ride engulfed, flooded by another ocean I did not see. Scripted side mirrors tell no lies. For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" The sadness of others can pour into this reflecting pool, absorbent. |
Under The Skin (Eternal) Jump in, the water's fine? With touch they could take dreams away but I won't let them. With the repeated tapping of fingers on my tender skin, memories would wash out to sea. I was convinced I needed you here with me. But time widens, drains into that empty ocean I've been set adrift too many times. Weightless, sails bend in rippled, parallel ventures searching, seeking. No salt, odorless breezes unseen ply my veins full, beating in rhythm somehow without you on these time waves returning. Strapped in, no oars, a needle could sink so deep, fill my blue until I'm green with a fluid that leaves me empty on this glass, reflecting unfulfilled for the rest of life. Some eternal sunshine, not spotless in this foggy mind; needed your compass to bring me to your shore. I won't let them take you away; visions seldom seen, recreated in vexing dreams. My skin, my own. My heart, alone until time returns tangible visions, spinning on this plane I'm anchored to eternal. If only once I closed my eyes by your side. In Behavioral Health they use a method of tapping your wrist/hand to wash out the pain of bad memories that could have set a person's life on an emotional course away from rational thought. There's a more current method now I won't get into. Makes me think of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind or a scene from That 70s Show when an angel offers to take away all Eric's happy memories of Donna. Sometimes it's hard to give up the bad, connected to what is still good. revised ▼ |
| Give A Little by Maggie Rogers Safe Harbor In our shared dark, stolen glances. Your eyes like intent sends signals, cut through this humid room, a beacon. Will I climb the hollow tower; a captain with lonely vessel might find safe harbor? Reading transmissions, salty, sea-worthy, yearning the spiral stairs to your vault. Shall I near the lamp, inspect your brilliance close? In shared dark, no danger to cross this divide. May I thank you for landing me safe in your arms, let other lights mechanically pulse new like love? Lovely lighthouse keepers could dance with lonely pilots seeking safe shores away from the lifelong drift. For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" |
| Why Can't I? Liz Phair Black Receiver Sweet romance, a black receiver echoes from the wall. Tender calling, in dreams she could sing just to me. Sweet Liz, your voice clear, never within reach, at the speed of sound from slow towers containing all your information, but not for me. Those secrets whispered to your black receiver, never overheard by parents keen to the wild-eyed intent of a horny teenager. A black receiver hangs cold in memory in a wide room eons ago. Why can't I stop dreaming how quiet the wall from our fluid past? For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" |
| Go Wild - Friedberg I Can Swim Without You Pulsing rhythm rains warm on this bright ocean. Heaven-rhythm repeats, penetrates solemn dark. Where I submerged, swum this unknowable sea, unexplored to you, fathomed in dreams by me. I hear your anthem, begging, come ashore. Your verses I deny, because here I sleep. In this ocean, I can breathe in the deep. Learned to hold my breath this long, since you came along, implored I seek your love. I can swim the deepest ocean, see no need of your oarboat, able arms to lift me out. This aquatic dream I realized, when dumped over the side of a vessel like yours, trolling. This is for the ignorant likes of helpless me who learned to swim against waves I've struggled -- against the land's greed and complacency. I would have strolled those golden sands, inhaled frozen Kool-Aid, infused and fermented. I can swim this deep, deep blue, huddle amid lost dolphins, communicate to bluer whales in languages learned -- languages you refuse understand, sitting far off on your idle sand. Still Corners - The Trip For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" |
| BAYNK - go with u Last Night The rhythm returns in morning glow, gliding into the room, sliding beneath the warm sheets. We were cool. Life was blue before I drank your oxygen, consumed a fire. Scenes: from party to street and cab, to your apartment, slow we danced, nose to nose, progressive, unclothed desire. Our scattered garments reminders of our blind choreography in dark. Now, the rescue I sought, revealed in two blue worlds clearly, deepest seas, lava-ignited. Treasure sought, discovered within you. For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" |
Rise To It Bonded by mysterious responses in the humid air only we two share. Half composed sentences linger, unable to strike a chord on that opening note. Our glances could become stares, if one of us dared. We happily shoulder the space between, assumed platonic, purpose binds our union. If light shoulders the sun upon our horizon, will we rise to it? For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" |
PJ Harvey Mess We’re In Strumming strings in your white gown, I linger, humming my hymns in heartfelt ignorance. Please don’t give up on me before I give up on myself, plying your anthems unattuned. This gravel, smoothing, rises above the small buildings, bound eternal like damnation to hard ground. Your ignorance strums sweet bliss I yearn match, agony gripping tight these tender-meaning chords. Bittersweet, our symphony attempted, you know all the cues, lining sounds with concrete words. Our divise harmony, raining on rooftops, separates my voice; never waves like a red banner for you, fly like love, aiming not to hit hard the sharpest pitches where my songs catch like errant balloons. This emblematic cape draped around my neck tangles, fumbling down in a clump at your careless feet. You take your harmonic instrument to an open street; chain me to the hydrant, just so I can see you go. For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" |
| Idle Thoughts Idle Pursuit and Time Machinations I have a thought. I want to speak it into existence, in the air between us. The fan blades slice molecules, silent re-assimilation about my ears. But those fan blades hold dust from Krypton. Someone would have to turn off the power to inspect, decide: Mix a bucket with chemicals or simply use anti-bacterial wipes to daub clean? My yet to exist thought will wait until I've slowed time, gears of machination, to consider phraseology and the right time to utter my notion. Your eyes dull yellow in this fading light. I know you could crush me, too. Speak this thought into existence, While I remove the blades; one by one, unscrewed, delivered to a bath in the sink to scrub? How long has it been? I must put each cleansed wing, inspected and delivered, to a dry towel, then view a gritty sink I should scour next. I think about political correctness, if I've fully grasped societal norm, avoid shame from speaking like a racist old man, uncouth. The white arms return to their house, bolted securely, as I wonder about your quiet. Not a word. Alone like me, couched in distraction. Housework and games and freedom of speech. No freedom from humming on high, or the hungry refrigerator, sucking ampules, too. When will I speak thoughts into shared reality; daunted, knowing you've said, you know my every story? You've critiqued every word uttered. The sink is where my head will go next. The minutes to night you don't count, drain in my idle pursuit. Head Like A Hole Nine Inch Nails 'Black as your soul' For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" |
I Could Get A Girl Like That In Another Dimension I'm living in two dimensions seeing you across this wide room. The 80s pulsing in my renewed veins make me know I'm still a man. In one dimension, I approach, broad shoulders weave the heavy, dark scene strobed. In another dimension, through whiskey mirror, eye disinterest in pale reflection. In this current reflection, a man who knows a discontented woman. In this dimension, a man still worthy enough, despite the divide. Time warps a man just as a young woman's mind, by a fool eons past. He would smash virtue; who, like a boy, only knew how to drive to that goal. In this dimension, the older man reflects on opportunities wasted. In this reflection, could take his time, drive the length of her field. But, in the final quarter, 80s nostalgia divides my brain in hypothetical delusion. I walk past, tip a cap to reveal the same blue eyes. Harmless to her, she returns a smile.  For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" Languages ▼ Idle Thoughts ▼ Mess We're In ▼ LoveBound ▼ Last Night ▼ Swim Without You ▼ The Other Side Of Reflection ▼ Paper Heart ▼ World Rolls Away ▼ Black Receiver ▼ Safe Harbor ▼ Here And Now ▼ Time Loop ▼ Under The Skin (Eternal) ▼ |
Languages This obtuse, underground language You forced me speak; irksome, I know -- Like the minds of children, Unable to express to the busied parent, In crisis, un-counseled Un-able to form sen-ten-ces Your ears disavow. Not ready, Never prepared to give answers -- A language you haven't mastered. So, you set me down, Crying. Regret yet having me? These languages; One learned, the other unreasoned, Linger beneath tongues Tied, idiocentric. I hide in the wall closet, Build forts with good blankets In your home Mortgaged; tied To offspring like me Who won't grow up fast enough, Move out. Inspired by mood of 'In The Waiting Line' by Zero 7. I just hear this song and poems like this are produced. I wrote many more last month. Great song for January. For: "The Soundtrack of Your Life" |
| Ricky Gervais: Now Streaming... Truth is refreshing. Truth is fleeting. We live in fantasy, dream like Hollywood, always believing (if we mean well) with no actions, just words, our invisible tapestry of rhetoric cannot tear; if no one can find a thread to pull. You yanked. We could feel it — The soft underbelly of fleeting actors holding glued costumes and hypocrisy. We knew, here’s a man undeterred who should fear. Undeterred, has cojones. Truth is out there; woven thin, invisible to nude eyes. We believe in it, sometimes touch. But, too fragile, don’t handle it like you. It cannot be grasped by the likes of us; and, will we hear from you again? Did you know you built a right platform for liberals hanging? When do the executioners come? It’s Hollywood. With enough time and money they’ll write a happy ending, don super suits. You had a role in it. Now, cue Tom Hanks to play you in the lead, soon streaming on ISIS. Alone With My Lioness Clearing the white drive, hymns unsung from my pink core — black exhaust. I hope the last exhaled about the house cat envious of his revered lioness, who alone does not know his devotion, as she lies obscured amid tall, dried grass and stick. The heavy blade wielded, now idle, props beneath my weight. From the clean drive — songs unrevealed linger in my heavy lungs, black with regret. I haven't told you about her yet, lingering about this brilliant event. Blinds dry eyes that yearn view a blue vault, only to see a long street, as the snowplow comes. Cars And Trucks I’m not gay in your world, but gay enough. I am not black either; however, black wherever I roam without you. I am not an immigrant, but a stranger in an even stranger land watching their cries like infants — helpless, little babies I refused be since I grew up, took my medicine. Gut full of the stuff soothes what rumbles within. If I am not right, or left, I am wrong and alone, watching beer-guzzling hunters haul bloody trophies on trucks like freedom. With mud on oversized tires, be-dazzled grilles with tow hooks pull tiny, two-wheel drive cars from ditches in winter blizzards. The babies drive off with meager thanks and expressions of shame. I go home to the goth girl; attracted to friends who daily reject her, shaves her head, pumps that brain with Korean anime, K-Pop, rants about repression, plight of LBGTQ-plus — 13-year-old professed bisexual (still pending), with lips more prepared for metal piercing than tender kisses of lost innocence. Her brother: tall, brilliant, master of piano and brass instruments, top scorer of state and ACT testing (Math, English, Science) befouls a basement couch in the dark. Head strapped, controller aimed at green distraction, too tired to remember hand in missed assignments, tracked on PowerSchool by two doughy parents who'll be damned one of these babies doesn't make the grade, land on feet to struggle with something akin to virtual reality — our foggy existence. Then find time to wonder…politics? What's this about? Are you trying to get me to feel something, Mr. Trump? Fabric of an already torn nuclear family tugged — a tapestry too thin. Must we scrap it, create another? And just how are we supposed to do that, when babies bury shiny cars in ditches? Will the muddy trucks come? My sensible SUV can't save us. Prose and Dead Men My tiger-striped flannel and matching yellow cap, if slid askew, would remind living family of the old man sitting on the tailgate of his blue Ford, sheltered amid flocked customers and other vegetable growers. Cracking wise in the corner parking lot of the local farmer’s market, his hat true -- angled in the ‘locked’ position. A habit, I suppose, from serving in military. Nicknamed Big John, missed death as a sentry in Guam by just one hour. Relieved of post before another throat slit, a nameless brother in arms. I would not learn until I was dressed like the man. These scribbled musings in secret journals illuminate a dark mind. Hollow words spun, like his cap, in my corner booth for hours at mic’ed readings where no one peruses the printed commitments amid pregnant pauses. My endless voice scratchings echo an arena choked, with tears in my eyes not for him but some liberal heart bleeding, actualize the purpose of prose. Camden What's in a name? You'd think by any other she would smell as sweet. Burst into my world like an unplanned thing, I had no name for her until I saw tender, frightened, so un-in-love with the light this trembling creature revealed unto me, Madeline Margaret. I was her owner; until we mutually agreed while playing horsey, she held my fate in her tight reigns, some unmarked day, on the living room rug, where chafed knees began to frail. She was my owner; rebuffing any outward thought, steady herself, quell angst against a world much more punitive than a father now yielding to mother, who one day delivered, “There's been a change.” No, she's not Madeline Margaret anymore; but, some pierced, hooded creature trolling about (still my plaything), buried deep within that trembling, tender-calling, bleeding heart. Just, 'Camden' now. I was not to be introduced. The story will have an ending, one day. But, who will I see staring across a restaurant scene at me, with love? The same contempt? For the man who released trills from a choked throat, when she became my owner? |
| The blank canvasses on pedestals follow, study my art. But I've had one eye out the window, in their galleries; dreaming on blue, high clouds, yearning whisper my name, fully realized, oil-based brilliance, also lonely like this poet. The blank pages on lighted screens never follow. I've had one eye on the past in their galleries; dreaming blue, low to floor, pining they whisper their name fully realized, pixelated brilliant again, lonely like this poet. The blank constructs on fading pages, my art. I've had two eyes scanning ageless tomes for right words. Imagination fading inside my head, aching like the nameless, fully realized my art is not persuasion for true beauty. Blank, following shadows that never materialize, eyes collecting words like gemstones in your path, dream I'll assemble a message for all time, realize this poet and beauty do merge ageless, alive. I'll make no excuse for this, something I wrote and moved on from. |
I’m going to view this a few more times before I comment, share your thoughts here should you view and Want to comment. In the meantime, I’m reminded of something I recently opined in poem: "Primary Roles and Truth Within A Spectrum" Longer video by same professor, if you dare: |
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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)
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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)
![Merit Badge in Quill Sponsor
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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)
![Merit Badge in Quotation Inspiration
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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}
![Merit Badge in G Specials
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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)
![Merit Badge in Chapter 1
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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)
![Merit Badge in 30DBC Winner
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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)
![Merit Badge in Every Moment Matters
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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)
