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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 ▼ |
 By the camp creek, spying for frogs, On weedy banks buttercups captured. Child wonder applied soft, yellow heads To skin, happy makeup to show mother. Under the shaded apple tree, viewing Black and yellow, so gracefully dutiful, Pink buds burgeoning pollinated. Below, Serenaded by persistent violets deeply hued. The most vibrant colors contained, collected In small bouquets, handed a scrub woman Who remarked while she helped find Just the right mug, dipped in well water. Where small slithering grass snakes chased Into thick of fern, bright white trillium thrived In late spring. She instructed me to leave be, let stray in our forest meadows naturally. His mower sparked to life, gas and oil Smudged the red paint, when I roared. To and fro, sent sparing every friend, Dandelions clotted a dry, dusty field. Yellow specter seldom seen age puffed Wisp spores, sent like wild, summer bubbles Blown off a stick from that old front porch. Wayward, wildflowers in alleys, behind shed, Roaming hill and dale, floated away down Railroad tracks, where lonely I flowed, too. Collecting every bit of color, dead or alive, A busy woman was allowed time to smile. Serendipity captured by innocence along Brush-cut power lines, connecting rugged Properties, revealed blooming strawberry, Patches hidden beneath red and green leaves, In those early days before full maturation. Nature inspired a young dreamer with hope, Nostalgically spared summers of memory When a woman adored a child’s wild love. 4.30.22 36 lines, free verse Prompt: What do (you) choose to see? The weeds or the flowers? ![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) 2nd place, April, 2021 (last minute entry) Revised here: "Wild Love" |
| She’s ‘fallen victim to flickering lights In our small room and ‘I’m sorry’ But, ‘it doesn’t matter now’. Then why confess these feelings, Darling? My morning Starling, When black drapes do not douse Insistence of a morning byway? I’ve fallen victim now to my regret — Early search in lobby of bland coffee That I must take issue with, Dump in three creamers to mix With four packets of Splenda, Cloaking a bitter, caffeinated flavor That does favor morning regimen. Does not soothe regret, night spent On a lump mattress unbending To a tender man’s low end. No hot tub available yet To soak the night’s restless bones, Now tensing on the edge Of our shared bed. And the point Of telling me your disturbance, Rolled back over to sleep three hours beyond A weary head that gets no rest In a flea trap or away from A lifetime of expressed disgust Of my insistent presence by your bedside With so much as A chew, leg twitch or mutter. Nowhere else to go, not home. I freeze, tense, reside in pain So you can regain your beauty rest. 4.30.22 |
If I dissect you with my carving knife, push the tip of rusted blade deep within to make your hollow eyes come to life, it means disembowel your hard orange skin. Push the tip of rusted blade deep within, gutting the living core, your soul I deprive. It means disembowel your hard orange skin to light up small, wanton faces evilly alive. Gutting the living core, your soul I deprive. Sulfur soon ignites wax stick of strife to light up small, wanton faces evilly alive. I must plunder a ravaged gourd’s life. Sulfur soon lights a wax stick of strife. Re-envisioned souls beat, heat pulsing veins. I must plunder a ravaged gourd’s life, as flickering wakens inside empty remains. Re-envisioned souls beat, heat pulsing veins. Flames intense, faithfully bright will burn, as flickering wakens inside empty remains, dedicated to porch, eternally spurned. Flames intense, faithfully bright will burn. Devilish carving of mine sinfully grins. Dedicated to porch, eternally spurned, little demons sweetly possessed soon begin. Devilish carving of mine sinfully grins, frozen on stoop of shame, forced to reside. Little demons sweetly possessed now begin BEfOre fLicKeRinG waKeNs tHe DeaD inSidE... ALIVE! 28 lines, Pantoum with metered rhyming Pantoum ▼ Prompt: Find a form of poetry you've never written before and both describe it and write an example for "The Whatever Contest."
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| Words Words, words Words words words I think I’m lost Without you No words for her, for him, I roam Lost without you Sad expressions can’t materialize Without words When I’m lost Without you Words, words Where’d you go? Where do I flow Without you When I’m lost? No grand expression, Collection of words, Small In clips and phrases, Just like a boy Standing in front of a girl That we know Yes, we know These words Think I’m lost Without you, Inspiration From a tender squeeze on my frozen arm or shoulder With a glisten in perfection, eyes That believe in me To say the right thing Words I say these little things To her, to him Hoping they understand The meaning, expressions From a dull boy Trying gleam Lost without words Without sweet inspiration The little things mean Everything Like she Like she Who could see Through a soul The turbulent tides churning Inside an unwitting poet Without message Understandable Without her And words. 4.28.22 |
| Prompt ▼ nailing it before they coined it as lebron's chase down block, i must have invented it in 1982 when randy snowden took off downcourt for a layup. i couldn't allow that. ten years older, 20 pounds heavier than in his prime, easy fodder for a wiry-strong, six-two white guy from iron mountain, michigan. in my old high school gym, on some wednesday night, playing men's league basketball, it happened. snowden liked to talk. i couldn't allow that bucket. from half court i took off, half of forty feet to gain to rim, not believing my luck, how much space he left between goal and player. i rose, as he lifted that spaulding from hand, and tomahawked it. my right hand expelled half of nine pounds of a ball's lone lung, palm-flattened by the arm-club strike. from over 10 feet up, it soared another fifteen higher, past the right backboard side, and 20 feet beyond, it arrived at the east wall where a u.s. banner hung. not an estimate, exact, if reported dimensions true: 10 feet across, 20 feet up it rose, adorned brick and mortar. i could have been an astronaut, the ball, capsule or missle, targeting that old red-white-and-blue. i feel the only witness. majestic: an orange orb spiking center. the flutter, rippling tremored an american emblem. velocity still reverbing, returns half a life later. glorious to behold, i felt alone, drifting down to hardwood from sudden perch, three feet above, like some cape-less superman. i was bothered to hear him, snowden whining in the ref’s ear: 'goal-tending', diminishing a moment, yet savor that bruised ego. and that's how you nail it don't think lebron has ever done that imagine Thor with his hammer, in 80s-style tank and shorts.  if anyone wants to 'track down' snowden, if he still remembers, ask him why no ref whistle? thumb was so swollen, I couldn’t properly hold the ball to shoot. probably lost that game. the details might not be exact, but i did a little fact finding to aid memory: https://www.garagegymreviews.com/proper-hanging-of-the-american-flag-in-a-gym https://www.fotw.info/flags/us-size.html 4.28.22 |
There was reason to grab my arm when you were by my side, leaning, our weight sometimes supported each other. If I close my eyes, the fingers creep, squeeze my flesh, rising like dough. When shadows fall through my window, your ghost has passed me by. I linger in these memories to preserve precious lost, unable to comprehend why you faded before the frost. I stoke a fire devouring my breath. I move the glow ash lingering, feeling warmth by my side, in this hollow space. Stars speck a black sky, none more knowing than a watchful moon spied by gleaming eye. It’s been around the world, sees you too. Silent like a stranger has no message of you. I linger in a white, soft chill, numb bone. Precious lost, can’t comprehend preservation. Jab the embers, coolly flow, wisp-thin. 7.7.22 poem added |
| i lost three days, or three years. who knows? i lost memory, steam escaping time-warping mech in my addled head. i lost you thirty years ago to what? was it my simple ignorance? i lost memory of then. this machine is a trap forcing me relive fictitiously, fill in the gaps of time with false memory time warping mech addles me as i count lost days i'm lost in a daze who knows how long spent here? i managed to lose you the gaps of time reappear as often as disappear inside this space i'm lost in that old gaze steam escaping like time, i wander my white rooms with and without you, fiction, embellishment of your face that addled me on the day i left was it my ignorance? i managed to lose you just as i lose three days, years or thirty years of my life, reliving, recreate second chances parallel exist in time warping mech these recollections relived, trapping me ordinary life fills in many gaps that i manage to lose just how i lost you just how i lose time mech not a friend in white rooms traveled metaphysically we meet like dreams that reawake ignorance, an addled head should i continue looking in the white rooms for you? should i walk into shadows and hope time still exists, since i cannot reverse tides, just how i lost you and lost myself? i think it's time i think it needs to end break all the clocks 4.26.22 |
| With Cup Seeking Knowledge In Death From a dull tin pulled from drab pack, I scoop, almost greedily, from found, clear pool in creek shadowed green, straining to arrive below twig, along furrowing root to supply a dry mouth. I know thirst, eager to sate. But from the right angle, gleam — earliest, the sun discovers my crime. I see the bottom. My health longs invigorate in your clear minerals bonded, as mysterious as the air I trust inhale. Denied. Rust cup slides through the well-worn seams released in unruly forest, where skin scrapes, infects flesh, ravaged evilly. I was sent there. Sent away from angling light now mocking a dreamer. This forest is dead but for me. Two diseased hands steal your ample, pure flow for knowledge. I roam unbound forever and unfound — malnourished, yearn safe harbor sealed in a black divide, where moon and stars spin high, remind I’ll not be alone in death. 4.23.22 4.26.22 edit Must not obsessively pull on those strings of images that need no definition. |
| She locks the window, the door, Her heart Overfeeding a fool no longer Flowing In and out of her rooms. She’s taller than the ceilings, Lowered, Concealing space to gather Restricted Within her bitter house She looks out, behind a door, No heart For a fool not so greedy Fleeing To the stars for comfort He’s smaller below the floor, Lowered, Concealing, shame in a soul Constricted Within her bitter house No better than a mouse He doesn’t want to grouse About shaded windows The endless nights With nowhere to go But in. 4.23.22 |
| William Carlos Williams was a word economist, a pragmatist with the English language. Would not be a fan of flowery stuff I effuse... "Saxifrage" |
| while you're so golden, let my dry eyes take in summer skin, sun-soothed. shapes perfectly reveal in this light. I'm scared to lose it, lost to sands swept by turbulent surf, sent beyond oceans of time. as you nimbly display form on tender brown, hands obsess for essence of youth, once mine, now sealed all these years, captured only on thin film in decay -- because I'm scared to lose, lost by an ocean's discontent, while a hovering moon implores day in, night out we each wither and die to the tide. if memory true, afford me youth soothed, so dry eyes contain golden sun. 4.21.22 4.22.22 edit interchangeable words, inspired by beauty equal to mine in youth. |
| i must be dead because i'm not alive, unless living through you vicariously, even though scripted, improvised, a life most extraordinary -- redacted, delineated except for your faithful who need dream and trust bright fairies to sprinkle their pixie dust love on our sad, pale forms, hoping to come back to life, unless I'm already dead? Let me walk that back. I have a life and it is dull compared to the fictitious ones who implore live like us! live like us! I'll take the generic tube of toothpaste, save the rest of this for my funeral, not for a handsome fleet of limos on your 'Go Fund Me' page. thank god, when I feel dead, there's always you to hold up my head. 4.20.22 might tinker with this a bit |
| Looking in a mirror for monsters, knowing they lurk behind me. You say, I missed something. Don’t worry about encouraging me. A child sits in the corner. I’m with him between the bells that echo down long halls traversed, looking for them: hidden monsters meaning evil. When I see your expression, I try to read for him, having been schooled for life in fortress, in towers I man, scanning horizons. I usher him out to sunny fields, vault-forests of wonder, when safe a small boy pretend plays. Eventually, it has to rain. And we splash. It also snows, and we build long tunnels and forts we call our igloos, tend to ourselves. We scan the avenues, aspect of letting others join, as many could enter, not forewarned: Few stay; less return. And I wonder why a waggled finger curls to change tide, sending me out to inspect what you have built. What game we will play? He seldom comes out now, in any weather — looks to walls, down narrowing halls infinite, longs to still play pretend. 4.20.22 4.22.22 edit 12.4.23 edit for breaks, emphasis on key investigations and impactful words/phrases Listening to ‘Mad World’ by Gary Jules Rejection is difficult if you have no way to deal, as a kid, or overcorrect. Do overs narrow with the troublesome aspect of getting it right the next time, building anxiety, thickening skin that can seem … callous? Dearly, I want to be authentic and genuine, but you lose that little kid trying to fit in. We sit together but remain far apart from origins. I can see how placating can cause an identity rift, disassociation with true self, that tangibly goes not by ideology (building a lifetime) but ignorance to do self-fulfilling stuff, having no true balance that takes guidance, instruction, a responsible adult, one who will take responsibility for themselves and not let a child muss it all up. We have no way of knowing who has the reins on psyche, but external forces clearly play a role in subterfuge causing chaos and confusion that clear thinking adults can either consult or cut through the bullshit…for the trapped child. Innocence is lost inside each. This is where I get lost myself. 12.4.22 To so-called, would-be peers who act like indifferent dictators, wannabe Machiavellians more like villains, controlling narrative, audibly whispering coded subtext that could provoke a fool to jab at wooly-veiled monsters. (just off the top of my ‘sore’ head) |
| Priming the water pistola, shaded by a ceiling sombrero, paused at the dining table, chewing a thin, flavorless carrot stick. They’ll come. The wanted ones. Who will be the first outlaw to dare? Be gunned down? sent wailing to a corner — hide, lick those furry wounds. Two hombre gatos learned long ago — but el gatitos, two of them, outlaws. New, with claws aching to continue work fibers of the central stairs’ landing. I said, let’s rearrange furniture, change focus to the scratching posts in the corners, away from the action, the kitchen and dining, main living area adjoined by upper bedrooms and hall to bathroom, roaming in and out, making this their territory, too. No respect like faithful perros. All flows to the middle of a split level that doesn’t need more maintenance or questions, did you get shag carpeting? I’m still waiting by this writing, with itchy trigger finger. Hope it’s safe to lay this down without something underneath. Better prime the pump. Don’t want a dry first squeeze. These siestas don’t last long. 4.20.22 |
| After the x-ray and before the adjustment, he slid the negative over the clapboard light, with two hands, and said, 'do you have problems with your back?' which puzzled me. Duh. White crust caked the unaligned column of disks, revealing a 'very arthritic' back with my 'congenital fusion' at the 'atlas' and 'two fused vertebrae near the coccyx'. My own doing. I envisioned winter on Mahjong tiles. Not the takeaway, as my focus was on his amazement, repeating two times, 'you have perfect hips', later told to my wife as, ‘always knew I had a perfect ass.' 4.19.22 it's true . number four on my list. sharing this knowledge on world web? Not hairy. and it's smooth. I'm just going to stop talking about my writing and start in on my anatomy... "My Penis" don't know what I should feel more ashamed about.  wife tells me she couldn't stop staring at my hands and forearms the other day. knew she wasn’t listening. |
| My bay window acts as a cage, where they flit inside puzzled limbs of an anticipant crab, that stoic shuns a stiff blast without bend but for brittle stems sent. In an instant, dawn tittered melody becomes a din. A sparked sun no longer ekes out beneath dimming clouds. Mrs. Red Breast fat flops down on dull turf. Plump puffed, she stops, cocked head, darts side-to-side. A skip-hop dance, pauses, bounces back. Nothing yanked, heavily she flutters up to the budding maple’s rigid arm. Clouds now full thick, roll in, lower and glare at me in my recliner, my container, as Red beelines it from her haven; shouting she goes, the last fowl sound before a distant grumble. Light escapes this soft lounge when the porch is first to report. It strikes fast, comes again, thickly applies as a crop duster to empty street. A rush dashes to the corner grate. The feck begins, ends, sends more, as if a child grips and spins a tap. But roof and gutters cannot conceal echos of metal and oily black skins pelted, now steady receiving seasonal torment. I’ll be here for hours and reminds — wear a thicker garment under this throw. 4.17.22 32 lines, free verse 8.14.22 revised Title: double meaning Taboo Words April 2022 Prompt: APRIL SHOWERS taboo words: water, drench, weather, cold, shower or any derivatives of these words |
1st Place - Personify Writing Contest ![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) When I'm Depressed As a band of brothers, born connected in factory, his tedious blade cut apart our unity as we laid. We harnessed power as a grid, so near, yet far in cool, dark days, boxed, undelivered -- perfect until thin Styrofoam slid from surface, captured. We connected to a new grid, electrified, explored by tender, sweaty hands fumbling in eerie glow. A cherub, illuminated an insurgent, prying, plying into portals that employed renewed rebels digitally. In a storm room, pain and suffering, she was consumed. A nation of brothers under palm were her depressed. Notes played, in tunnels to realms she sought coexist, not careful, stained and crumbed a depressed land. Her agony growing, not a symphony, composing anthems about identity, when in finality was a man. Words never spoken in his room to worried parents, he employed us. Multi-dimensional worlds collided, broke apart. Keystrokes ever changing, erasing, returned a dark heart's song that depressed us again and again. Struck in agony, virtually, in this tunnel nearing victory. Uniform with the one, we warred with other nations, fought a battle of good versus evil. Our keys struck harmony, melody for those who could see our deployed need. In the real world, she is he. In this multi-verse, now undivided, we can coexist with a world of depressed. Stoic, rigidly we transitioned mutually, respectfully. Solemn nights alone, beneath those sweaty hands, tender now. Peace restored in his land of confusion. A band of troubadours sing in key, for the heart true in identity; contextually, characters coexist with one. 4.15.22 30 lines, free verse
APRIL 2022 Prompt Object: COMPUTER KEYBOARD Keyboards are molds cut apart by hand to expose molded keys, tightly pressed back together after being socketed to corresponding switches. Idea is keyboard thinks itself a nation with keys that are depressed (double meaning) by the user composing sad anthems this nation of keyboard helps express. idea and concept…gender dysphoria leads to transgenderism in transformative poem? A sad and lonely process where the keyboard is empathetic, helps unify the young cherub in transformation to find friends, help, support and true identity in process. Hard to personify a keyboard without sounding silly. |
| I don those small galoshes on my feet, tight straddling a baby toe, no wiggle room, blisters grow with each stomped puddle. brown ripples dividing, overflow an already doused street, in my sleep. April eternal and I'm dry and still in PJs. I spin her good umbrella, better than mine (broken by the wind) and lance like a fool, stabbed like a buffoon, back pedal, stumble. but there's nowhere dry to land, bottom wet. inside a windbreaker house, flapping as a bird, as if I could fly from nest to bus stop, mid-April, when I finally appear after dark. I see it go by and hurl a steel lunchbox, dented too many times, tumbling an alley from a bruised big toe. I imagine he sneers, as passing yellow rolls, sends a toxic blast, when I wake up, fuss and wail, in April fading. and I'm still dry, head lowered, shuffling. I anchor the rear seat, in a cloud, as she drives. past scolded, arms folded, ruled for having imagination when April weather changes and I haven't arrived. every gnarled tree out the window glares back. but in my paneled room, she gently slides bedside, tousles unkempt hair, reminds I need a haircut and get ready in April. can't feel her lips brush my skin, pale, wrinkling, sinking in bone, where I lay and turn to window for information. not too many days left before break. I expect rain. 4.15/17.22 28 lines, free verse I missed the bus a lot, a lot, especially when there were so many puddles to splash. This is a mix of childhood memory, dreams and anticipating dying with her blessing before I go...to my new school. |
| my crown is wound tight, almost daily, the mainspring pried by forefinger and a thick thumb, trying to get a grip. sometimes, i go for days in the drawer, in the nightstand, eyes tight, mind in night. my crown could use a spin, manually, attuned by a dedicated one who knows tension, tiny coils and gears that don't need constant lubricating but a little love, to clasp a hairy wrist. 4.14.22 I could add to this, give deeper introspect. Just thinking about wrist watches, when I had one that needed to be manually wound. How I would forget, or not wear, or lose or not care about time. And then, when I got a beautiful watch with a battery, how it was crap, never kept time and again, I would misplace it, forget it, not care about time. And now, I have a phone, a tablet, a fitbit, all places to stare that digitally are wound to a world clock so I can never be late, and I still try not to look, or care about time, but definitely feel it's tiny springs and coils inside of me wanting to rust up, erode and push back the tides of this linear thing I live inside of. Or should this be the poem? and I should wear my glasses. that's another matter and yet the same. i'm not Bond with all these gadgets i could use to rescue myself when danger approaches. okay, still poetry. stop. |
| Blowing up threads with word soup you call TNT, clearing a room before doom from the ignorance yours, not mine, because this is art, poetry and it could be sublime, or it could be a method of reaching out Blowing holes through rhetoric meant to build walls not tumble them down so we can finally meet on your side, not mine, because this is art, poetry and you should come greet words on my wall to really consider These words could divine a way for you and me to be friends I'm not taking anyone hostage with the words I spread, though I can conceive how you might think a threat That is your problem, should not be mine. But, let's wait a minute and see if we paint a line of indifference clearly marked just for me so I do not cross 4.14.22 words the world today is not ready to greet with openness, fairness or honesty. Dialogue takes a back seat. Yes, I can see you are triggered. What about me? What - about - me? |
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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)
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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)
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MAY 
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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)
![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 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)
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