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 |    10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
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I’m disabled by more than blindness. Writing: Like one of those adventure games where you go off questing in different directions but you don’t advance in life. Pretty medallions sought for words/my soul, a slow burn now. Life is full of misdirects right back to the start, you still quest with a thirst. If they take time to notice, must be doing something right. Life of turmoil produces stuff like this. Not going to call it beautiful agony…it gets a bit uglier. Minced words too pungent. scripturam in hoc non mutamus, quia stultus es et differentiam nescies. hic honor, quem accepistis, non est operae pretium, sicut non est bonum.  si hoc legere potes, gratiarum actio pro tempore. The beautiful mess you made. | Without knowledge, who’s to judge? | No gavel; no voice. I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost | I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me *Neurodivergent poet. *I yearn to love without that fart in the room. *Honesty without mincing words. *Stay clear of those surrounded by rules. *Real dialogue accepted. Diagnosed with new disabilities in 2020: On the spectrum/ADHD (it gets complicated by PTSD and brain trauma). Been suggested by doctors I might want another brain scan. As it is: 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, find boundaries, no clue why, 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 t the next boob that walks by.  Been more than I could imagine or expect. My achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall. I dig deeper than I should, push boundaries. Aimless words, brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit targets. Get a ‘back off’ shoulder shot when asking your motivations to write. No prize to eye; not incentivized. Dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do the best with what you got. 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 "Epigram ‘n Aphorism Samwiches"  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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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 ▼ |
| https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/92017/opera-singer I read this and look at what I wrote I read Opera Singer by Ross Gay and consider my own words and ask who’s more confusing? and I project your response I hear your silence I read every curved thing, or flat, on your face from previous expressions of a thousand, no thousands of countenances launched, mostly fictional, but real to me. As real as anything. And I recall my father’s rejection. I know my mother covered me in Bell jar confections. But, there’s salt in that love seeped in my wounds, because I knew not hate from indifference, I knew not love from pity and Mother, you said you never cried and I inferred, took your tears as I regretted power given my open hand upon your cheek, because of that towering, quotable man, ‘Is that supposed to be a masterpiece’ not recognizing his jealousy at 16. And, when that man you called husband attacked, I was not protecting you or your youngest from him. I was and was not a man at 18, but a boy who wrestled a giant down to the Davenport, sat on him, saw his shock, feeling my arms retract every punch against his thick skull and jaw because I was not the authority, because I knew love and that I loved him, as I told him I hated him. I said that I did it for you and Jonny. It was self-preservation. Cowardice. He said I was strong after that. I took it as respect. Felt pride because I tore wings off a butterfly. He’s not a man, ideally feared. He was monster. And, he was a child once. He had his upbringing. I have my life. So, you’re both dead and I still speak to you from my still room, cab of my truck, on wooded walks or wherever I go to find silence/solace and reappear a normal kid, not some undiagnosed neurodivergent that people have shaken their head at for years, since I can remember my frailty, first human error that launched a thousand fingers pointing blame. As with the two of you, I respected. But I despised all, instead of you, because you are human. They are human, too. I see that now… I am the offspring of monster. So, when I psychobabble, I measure input. Data. Something makes my antenna go up. Maybe, I’m alien and monster? I just know 64 friends on Facebook, not a lot. Can I stop now? Talk, to you? They’re dead. Audience, I’m sorry I veil this dialogue to you to seek anything like empathy, sympathy or pity, in that order, since I’m not worthy of love. And yes, I don’t describe opera singers or children in diapers (referring to Gay’s poem…should you read, too), but in deliverance of a monologue typed herein. Because the room would empty, long before summation, conclusion, the point… Picture my contorted face, as if it could show… I don’t know how to reach you. Okay, Consider a computer with bad programming with limited rewritable space and very little time left to undo all that is wrong, if a metaphor is what you seek. I just need to know you won’t throw me out. At least, put me on a curb, share with someone who might find my worth (or, harvest my gold from transistors, RAM and motherboard). In this pale room at a vortices in life, when PC language is so ignorantly, arrogantly but tenuously employed — I can’t get diagnosed with Asperger’s or autism, a suggestible neurodivergent. Know I’m atypical. Employ your friendship with compassion, or empathy. Know I understand that Opera Singer writer, while I don’t fully get him. Know I want to learn secrets to each indecipherable puzzle in life, the a-ha of it all. If not self-defeating. Life’s little meanings could lead to one big truth — or go wayward as the TV series Lost. Why start something you can’t finish? Life? Why am I on this planet at all reading ‘successful’ writers, while my flourish of words yearns to imitate similar outcome, needs to be heard as understood, to quell a lifelong need for rest and actual silence, while I look out windows of my home, cab and isolated spaces. I’ve had to avoid you to avoid me. I avoid the next words on my tongue; though, thank you big pharma and prescribers, I have drugs to keep me housed, keep indifferent pupils and eyebrows safe from any expressions that unhitch a triggered muse-brain from commonness of the lemmings. So I don't head down another equatorial highway in growing, abhorrent senectitude. That last part, I’ll look up. Maybe. I’ll tighten phrasing, line breaks, just to be clear. Edit for punctuation, space the block-thick text, deleting a few words. But be prepared, this blob poem can only grow, as I ramble and metaphor more. If you understand him but not me (you know who), know I use that as fuel to bother all of you further. In ernest, your psycho…babbler. 1.27.23 113 lines, need I count more? no explanation needed. it’s all there…oops. |
| Adjectives trail nouns like tin cans strung through this town — bump, clatter roads of lumps, potholes the county hasn’t funds to patch. Soup cans now dirty, labels severed and recycled, tied to your chariot of white fleeing skies of rice. Doves soar from captor church mount. I follow their clamor and shout, chasing with all my might. But it rained last night — no shoes for this flight. Vows uttered at their alter would not falter at the hour I should have arrived on a steed, handsome mane in air, instead of an Uber piloted by Steve. Won’t yelp him if she gets away. We’re rolling down this highway to a horizon clouding. Clouds burst from black — brilliant — sparks appear, rumble-crack this heart in twain…again? I’m such a hack. One more adjective trails a noun, kilometers outside town when tux tails wrinkle to pump gas. My maiden appears, sees me, hikes her gown to full run. Moment of truth late devise from her eyes before her stiletto point plants just below the buckle if I had one. Blood red mix with a heavy wash — love sent to drain down on my cement, the last time. A string of adjectives fumble as keys duty to ring, scatter where I’m found on the ground like some unconjugated noun. 2.28.23 40 lines, post modernist, nihilistic whatchamacallit, yeah, poetry? https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/unconjugated Giving double? new?? meaning to 59-year-old definition…get how title and theme are supported? romantic chase, just as text reveal nouns alone like our narrator/hero? failing in pursuit of her, post alter, again, after the noun/subject/object of his attention. He’s alone as a noun. This is tiresome — explaining. . |
 I’m fat and I want to eat. I’m fat, and I want to eat. I want to eat and I’m so, so, so, so, so~oo fat. How much time was that? A trip around the dairy case. Cheesecakes in aquarium colorful as a coral reef swimming, swimming, swimming, swim around my head. Salivary glands imagine taste them, recreate memory. Remember: ‘have some cake’ ‘it’s your birthday’ ‘it’s their birthday’ ‘it’s a wedding!’ ‘we’re having a baby!’ ‘it’s a fundraiser’ ’it’s potluck at your church’ ‘you like cake?’ ‘come for dessert’ ‘join our club’ ‘we ate out’ ‘on the menu’ ‘let’s splurge’ ‘he’s retiring, she’s leaving’ ‘our grand opening’ ‘frozen, just thaw’ ‘decorate it, ice it, eat it’ ‘just because’ ‘you poor kid’ ‘you’re alone’ ‘you have no love or friends’ ‘cake’s your friend’. I’m dizzy now, on the floor. ‘Hypoglycemic?’ ‘Why don’t you eat?’ ‘You’re too skinny’ ‘need to fatten up’ Again? Worse than before? Where is the floor? I’m swimming on dry land. A fish that sinks, too fat. Still...want to eat. Get that carrot away! I swear… Carrot cake? Okay, twist my arm. Ow! Just another day. Hey! Cake! 35 lines of ever-lovin' (loosely) free verse in Dystopian dessert hell! 2.25.23 4.14.23 edit Review ▼ |
| Time is running out. Down? Off. Like an alarm clock with legs. The grandfather clock just sits there, seldom chimes. Trust him? What wizardry with fancy mechanical gears of gold or brass? like those old wrist watches you had to wind if you could remember. Who had time? Ironic? I miss the sweeping second hand on those wall clocks counting down the last minute of school. I miss cuckoo bird interruptions, the slappy door of its house, laughing reminiscent of a redhead woodpecker. Now, we’re all synced to an atomic clock. It can’t explode our cell phones, automobiles, fitness trackers or stock tickers. How much time elapsed since I began my diatribe, diversion, disillusion, since I can’t tell time from where I stand inside our world clock with twelve plus twelve hands? I guess I’m wound up for nothing. Tick-tock! another minute’s up. 2.25.23 Alternate second line from ending: Tik-Tok? Filling my blog tank. Going on another run until this car crashes. "Note: There’s a few days left, if you are a fan of fre..." |
| Guess I should seek publication more often… Congratulations Dear Brian, Your poem, “Potatoes,” has been accepted to appear in the 2024 Wisconsin Poets’ Calendar. We will ask you to proofread your poem and short biography as part of the publication process. On behalf of the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets, we thank you for helping to keep this literary tradition alive in our state. May you enjoy continued success in your writing. 2024 Calendar Editors, Nancy Austin and Kathleen Serley This makes 4 of my last six submissions. Already exclusive to privileged WDC members: "Potatoes" |
| We can blame writers for clichés. So good, their devised words, idioms, now over-employed. Reason poets struggle to come original, wanting to borrow now tired phrases. Forced to reimagine what’s already been said? upgrade Frost, Cummings, Angelou and Dickinson? What to choose when lost, holding a heart inside a cage housing a feathered thing, because everything possible has been written, and we must reach, perfect, without infringement of truest expression. Think harder, brighter, be well-read, rested when tested by loathsome environments — mono-syllabic, over-repeated pop melodies — sugary, sentimental, compartmentalist thought/walled off by PC/ inside a PC/coded/as we are recoded, deforming dystopian by cloaked nazism (uninformed ignorance programmed). Damn unincentivized public education, selling us short, humbled to comprehend, come up with a better expression. What about Sam and Diane? Will we infinitely Fast and Furious? How many trilogies trilogy in vacuous space to finally displease audiences pursuing our green? locked in anticipation of another season, salivating veal Mandalorian, prohibitively ponder and idle on idols, kick out any overused expression, scrutinize our own pale brain-text, fruit of cognitive labor is not worthy of 99 cents? a like?? Why self-abuse when none near, let alone hear these atypical meanderings dreaming caught in a medium fence. Out of my garden, inspiration glows. Outside my garden, no neighbors lean on poor protector, unfurled chicken wire, curled, galvanized collapse of mother clicks from emotional tic, tic, ticks. The rabbits can have all they can eat. I stand by clutched hoe. What a whore for a dollar more. Words bare flesh in my flesh. I rhymed. So, this must be the end. 2.24.23 Is it now? Is it now? How about now? Now, right? Diane Long nearly killed herself…for her craft? What helps me be so persistently strong? I could have ended on that suicidal thought. And, Why? Sometimes, no font choice at all. Life is gruesome, gritty, haste. Mixed in this garbage disposal mind-gut, enough toothy blades to devour and complain, spit out a beautiful mess, hawked up. Thanks Elle - on hiatus   , Warped Sanity  for encouragement, keeping it real. You inspire. I hope I, too.  or not?? |
| I could write a hundred poems right now, or absorb aura anchored deep deep down happy as any frown knowing I won’t drown I won’t dry up inside here It’s dark It’s deep Depth you won’t ladder to see Inner beauty sweet as song, singing with perfectly formed frown Drown on your dry land, or take my hand, trust a soul submerged, basting in life-long suffrage Survival only needs one revival — if you touch my hand, hear my hard band of gloaming words’ gleam Discord, rhapsodic, I hold you and sway Without you I stay I still see you from down here 2.24.23 Look, I wrote another ode to you. How do you like me now? My mental health in stasis doesn’t move a meter in this place and still I stay, sway, smile all the while. How was your day? And now, Times. See, feel? 2.24.23 ‘ladder’ replaces ‘scale’ |
| OK you wanted it. The spigot is open. Let’s see what we got on tap? (For Writing.Com writers): I’m getting too old for this shit You’re acting 25 again Who knew white could be so opaque? you know she left years ago? Cleared, gray pavement appears You still have strong passion It’s thick and hard burns off when sun appears catches a weaker blade — catches a glint in a wink… Brittle trees repurpose in Spring Not too soon, but… too old for this shit Why should she be my captor, still? Another storm is approaching Not as strong as this one was Dump more opaque on my thick skull Roof tops shudder in a gale Mud flap drip-drip on idle boot Has the sun arrived? I’m not as strong as I once was… Opaque is white, too I clear this drive… dreams interrupt for the plow driver, and now I have this I’m going back inside maybe when summer returns… I’m too old for this shit and who said I had to be captivated? 2.24.23 Knock, knock Is this thing on? Understand me, feel me, or just… Opaque? I question who is the ‘thick’ one. You might be catching a drift Try another read through Do you read me now? Right. Who has time? and you’re not my captor… I don’t believe we’ve met…truly. Did I come half way for this? My response to a response within response…to myself (I know it’s a toughie. You can get there, if I was Nabokov, not some knock off (and there, i rhymed, sorta. We can be happy.) Why do I use Verdana for this…Times for other poems. Verdana when pointed, I’m a man, or need a clean read like stubble removed by blade. Times, when romantic, beautiful, passionate, pleading and near weak, but all these truths or some combine to show the unshaven, or the blue eyes, blond locks, yield to an estrogen counterpart. In my youth, I could have been gender fluid. It still informs me, at times. And, that’s enough sharing. "Alone With My Lioness" Response within all responses referenced by this…so, who’s a knock off now? It’s you. It’s always you. It will always be you. Give yourself a sticker if you made it to the end. I’ll give an exclusive merit to an equally ‘brilliant’ review of … this. Keep in mind, I keep myself in check. I feel how tiresome this all can be within myself. Resident Neurodivergent. I master no others words, but champion deserved friends |
| They suck you right back in But, ultimately, force you to become indifferent So, I’ll leave it all on the floor None shall judge, once I leave this building 2.23.23 It’s not worth untangling a ball of thoughts hand it to them like some Nabokov The twine is dense because of bloody hands dedicated curse to task Hours in my dark shell a lonely fisherman dreaming bright reefs from shore Envisioning like some Emily recluse with intrusive words secluded in night chamber never approach a world so exclusive, hope to be included with scarred, ugly hands No one should work that hard to reveal an empty craft. Here’s my vine, you’re unwanted twine. Sans 999 novel lines today, consider this the omitted one. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pale_Fire Nabokov could be opaque to the unstudious mind |
| Tune Me Slightly out of tune discord plays daily Black keys please my ears best Your forehead wrinkles Tune me Guide my hands over cobblestone white building soft, fluffy melodies your discerning ears yearn in dream Layers of dust pollen to these boards mingle with hardened flesh — impale sharp, plunge within my chest — Tune me Guide my eyes to part your cloud heavens Teach me golden dreams where you rest If this is rust heart repurposed bleeds for rare return the best Soul drum of syrup I’ll purge for you So, tune me Rhapsodic melodies urge long your tender hands on mine Teach me on my playground your tender sex What purpose all I’m feeling decomposing my hard words in soft tune? When iron rusts? They break your heart unaccustomed to your form. Words inform, spoken could mean even more. Author Note ▼ |
Maybe, inspiration will come. In a rut/funk now…been. https://www.quotev.com/quiz/13568704/What-is-your-kryptonite I got: Uncommitted If this is your kryptonite, you might hesitate when faced with situation that require dedication to a particular long-term goal. Often, this term is used for romantic relationships, but it can be used for any other areas of life. Being unable to make commitments can be troublesome, because this inability can cause failure in any sort of relationship, ambitions, and work. You might find that you can’t stay in a relationship for longer than a few weeks, or you can’t follow the same daily routine you have planned for yourself for longer than a week. Perhaps you get bored or tired easily. You lose motivation quicker than you gain it. The perks of this kryptonite is that you have the desire for change. This allows you to experiment with new ideas, so you gain more knowledge, and open up your mind. So, being uncommitted is not so entirely bad, and it’s perfectly understandable. |
| Forest Nights Sensed I had waking nightmares mustache hairs were trying to shake hands with the gray nose outcrop reaching low, while wily eyebrows wound like winter vines spiky-hung to look in any open cave. Ear hairs collectively sang a chorus in their cramped theater. Little space for any other sound to wedge within, when I did not hear you. Eyes strained in an antique white-walled room, scrutinizing pale lips, your dilated orbs, well spaced from furred furrows silent arced language. A protracted scene induced rising, flooding in chambers. Clogged heart suffocating, breath going out did not receive good molecules in return. My hands trembled but did not bridge a division growing without and I could smell everything with a grease-fried, crisp tongue, skewered. Oxygen rained on a weathered, soft canopy. Moist and humid, loss resurrected my soft spine, straightened at shoulder, spanning out to search your grace, touch skin in dark, when I woke. I have yet to find you in these forest nights. 2.17.23 New title a little too contrived, on the nose, poem all together too confusing, some or all of the preceding? I went live before I had a satisfying edit…not sated yet. |
| The Quiet Quirks Of Grown Up Kittens There’s no one here to laugh when I walk down the hallway towards the bathroom and see a pair of green eyes gleam from the sometimes habitué in shadowed dark above the edge of our bathtub and say “hey bud, I see you’re in your fortress of solitude.“ so much of me is wasted, words that drift into the paint of these walls, gathering above my head, unabsorbed. The walls or the words? Does it matter? 2.11.23 Some Refrain In The Membrane: I’m gonna fill up that blog Fill up that, fill up that Fill up that blog… with every last remaining thought I’m long past due time to stop seeing therapists who won’t meet me in their office I’ve got a simple blog with few replies that will suffice 2-Time WDC Quill Winner: Best Poetry Collection, 2020 and 2021. NOMINATED for 2022!   
A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that. |
| unpreserved something, something, neurodivergent whenever the words swirl a storm inside my head they attach like snowflakes in the upper atmosphere before they fall heavy as eyelashes weave within the white without sound without hesitation enveloped and forgotten and onto the next unique batch of crystals forming, reforming isotopes of a beautifully ignorant mind that cannot possibly construct two thoughts alike as properly parsed patterns so others will understand — know the beautiful torment submerged skies prepare until the next gas station fill up of frosted bakery fresh perked java I'll idle in my bed I'll idle in my head I'll idle 'til I'm dead if i can avoid each of you, and forget every beautiful snowfall dreams that melt unpreserved unbonded by words of yours. 2.10.23 30 lines, or 32 if we count title and caption free verse why can't i paint a picture of my pain for you so you can grieve for me, so i know it's okay for me to weep, too. about impetus on another momentary soul search happenstance ▼ sounding a bit fatalistic as a neurotypical ▼ much ado about snowflakes ▼ |
| Our house shook. You -- comforted by lightning and thunder Grounded, struck by the flashes. Rattled like the large window panes, My weak putty and blade could apply. Years saturated, stagnant water trapped in our walls, released a torment… Plaster Carpet Wood Sogged. When we tried to repair despair regret we lived so careless ignorant. And there’s still rumbling Building As you delight in coming event We could burn But this hollow house full of oxygen smolders squashes a spark No blaze forthcoming. Our house shook. I’m unsettled and can’t settle noise inside four walls My roof overhead could tumble down. 2.10.23 Bit more epic than ventured. Something I’ve been working on last few days, not a spurious offering. I forget the impetus but get the pulse, with each word building into…something? https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sog |
| Master Of Flies no innocence spared I know who or what I’ll hunt when humanity devolves. I do not wait. I choose not to idle, to be struck first. The time to wonder is before a world on fire. Sticks sharp, traps ready will set. Blood they’ll thirst. I’ll not crave. Mind nightly maps each coming conflict and possible outcomes. Glass will be dull, deep shoved in cavernous heads. None will mount sticks. Flies will not feast where I flourish, but on red streets of my victims. They die by my hand. I’m undead, killed by them lifelong. I spared breath for muscle. Sinew strong, I’ll flex and strike again and again. No graves for them. They left me in rubble. I hide in ruby. Will rise from boulder crushed to pebble and dust. Life grinds, even now. The end could be near. Sharpen your sticks. You think you have just cause to fight, to the teeth? To your death? I have no use for you as you for a master after I was dead. 2.6.23 A Grindhouse Joint Revisiting “Lord Of The Flies” day after tormenting day and making my mind up about something. |
| Penguins, with their black and white tuxedo appearance, always look like they’re ready to impress the ladies. But for Adelie and Gentoo penguins, they also need the perfect pebble to seal the deal. These penguins live on rocky shores and prize these small stones to build their nests during mating season. During courtship, a male penguin will find the smoothest pebble to give to a female as a gift. If she likes the offering, she’ll place it in the nest and the two will continue building up their little pebble mound in preparation for the eggs. Of course, “pebble envy” remains a problem for some male penguins who just can’t find the right rock on their own. Instead, they will steal the best-looking pebbles from another penguin and pawn them off as their own. For some species of whale, songs are their romantic gesture of choice. Whales rely heavily on sound to communicate in the water. And when mating season rolls around, male humpback whales will belt out amorous tunes to woo a female. Some research even suggests that males will start to weave complex syntax into songs to convey more information to a potential mate. But, there are always other males ready to imitate successful song styles to win over their own crushes. Sea otters lie on their backs when they’re in need of a deep doze, but their prone position also creates the perfect excuse to hold paws with their significant otter. Sea otters will either grab on to each other, or wrap themselves up in kelp, to keep from drifting apart at sea while they rest. But, it’s not all hearts and roses when it comes to mating season. Sea otters are polygynous, meaning a single male can mate with several females. This usually results in fierce competition between males to land a female. Reproduction for seahorses is a delicate dance in which males and females aim to be perfectly in sync with each other. Studies have shown that seahorse couples will court for several hours, swimming side by side to mirror each other’s movements. The longer two partners are together, the more successful they become at breeding. After mating, the male prepares to do what very few animals, including humans, are capable of doing for their lady. Male seahorses will carry up to 1,500 eggs in his pouch for about 45 days, leaving the females to relax until her babies are ready to be born. Monogamous French angelfish are rarely without each other: In fact, they’re almost always observed in pairs. Together, they must jointly defend their feeding territory from other hungry fishes, showing that teamwork helps build stronger bonds with your loved one. If they happen to drift apart, their reunion involves behavior known as “carouseling,” circling around each other as a kind of greeting. Maybe this will inspire you to poeticize a sea creature…like the Penguin…this month, here:
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Congratulations on your new merit badge! Thank you for supporting the Writing.Com community with your inspirations, participation and activities. We sincerely appreciate it! -SMs](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Red_Wheelbarrow_Poetry-2231099_8.gif) Hope to see you there. https://oceana.org/blog/sea-creatures-keep-love-alive-romantic-gestures/ |
It's February forgive me for not dining on the buffet that is addictive chocolate severed blooms destined to wither in heart shaped vases, stored in dark, hidden coves of souls for months, to years, but...unrelated... Hollow  graphicSocialism bad. Capitalism good? Socialism bad? Capitalism good. Been bouncing ideals on my tender knee mindlessly ignorantly eternally Farmers need 4 dollars for a crated Styrofoam carton of eggs Electric cars no go in this climate prone to snow Can you bounce that? Too heavy. Get out of the way. Where am I going with this? Don’t speak to them? Don’t speak to me. Candy for them. Liquor for me? Interactive role play. Candy crushed? Live internally? Don’t live in this reality, because we're all pawns in a holo- graphic universe try chewing on that? and what the hell is that supposed to mean? when we are made of chocolate when we die as red roses? we brightly ingest we burn for surprise of wondrous, torment of perfect, dilated eyes we fail and find dirt? sorry, it had to end this way this is only the beginning of the end i could have sworn I was real i really thought you were, too who am i to say? i'm no cosmologist or physicist but practicing behaviorist winding my way through the sewage to get to dry dust. this must be survival? 2.3.23 something random and epic (like the shared song) that's pasted from multiple poetic efforts that come up short on own, lacking a hook like the vocal warbling of the nice TTB singer lady. I can add, edit or delete later, since this is all real and yet not. No, feels kinda dun. and that's about as heavy as it gets...add whatever emoji to dumb down as I sundown (sorry, I tried). Can't make it better. Is this where the poem ends? Or did it end on me when you stopped reading?? my apologies to Tedeschi Trucks. Blog space is limited. |
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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)
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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)
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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)
![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)
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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)
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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)
