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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3
Rated: 18+ · Book · Spiritual · #1149750
Poetic 📝 Jottings got the virtual hardware w/ inspired words cast to a world wide wind.
If you only write when inspired, you may be a fairly decent poet, but you'll never be a novelist. -NEIL GAIMAN

“You are an icon here.*BigSmile*
“You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.”*Heart*

It’s like plugging myself, but using other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "Life’s Little interruptions ✍️ 16!"

Your poetic muse is on fire! *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. *Cool*

Recently published in a literary journal *PointRight*   "The Tender Core (Sedona)
Merit Badge in Taboo Words
[Click For More Info]


Congratulations! You won 1st Place in Taboo Words with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1027659]. 

I absolutely loved this! *^*Heart*^*

I love the process, constructing and sharing visions in words (no small task considering personal and physical limitations). HONORed to receive WDC’s Quill award: Best Poetry Collection, two years running. Nomination was more than expected. Humbled yet inspired to share all the more.

Poetic 📝 Jottings: Voted WDC’s Best  (E)
Quick links from 2x WDC Quills “Best Poetry Collection” 2020-21 & more writing awards.
#2251239 by BoreUs Karloff Compton

August 28, 2006

‘…let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness…” ~ The Painted Drum, Louise Erdrich

SuperNova Afterglow: New Zenith To Hell  (18+)
All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know.
#1300042 by BoreUs Karloff Compton

No specific aim going forward

What I used to say: 'Maybe, I just don't get it. Watch me fumble with my version of reality, expose ignorance as truth. You don't have to get me, either. But, wish someone would explain me to myself.' Now I say: *Cool*

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

"Note: Poetry: life’s little interruptions amassing int..."
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September 30, 2022 at 11:24pm
September 30, 2022 at 11:24pm
I grew concerned
she would send slivers to my hand
if I touched
before my skin became rough
from handling lumber

I could add to this, continuing metaphor naming various species of trees
from an innocent cherry to the mossy oak. Perhaps, she did not lie in good soil…
blah. I’m sick of myself.
September 29, 2022 at 10:21pm
September 29, 2022 at 10:21pm
…at any given moment…

The medication will kick in shortly now…mindfulness, don’t
forget…it’s a tireless treadmill we’re on…the sky is a maw
swallowing colors…if you look to the East…log on…don’t forget
to pick up…what’s so funny?…your meds…waiting…laughing boy…
is a tireless treadmill…with waves higher than the Empire State Building…
hey, there…get in the fox hole!….Arrrggghhhh!!!…tireless…waiting…
are you listening?…look to the North…polar ice caps melt…
did you take your meds today???…wait, what time am I supposed
to be there?…mail, did you get the mail?…tireless…treading…hear…
what I…just said?helloooo…meds?…super position…echoing…
repeating…new location…same…in the South…hurricane surge
is ripping into the coastal region…area…no, region…correct!…
your prescription is ready for pickup…Ding! Ding! Ding!…
did you get all of that?…your Zoom conference begins in
four minutes…take cover! Hide!!…it’s okay, honey, I’m here
…incipient..void…why did he walk two miles in the dark?…
         don’t leave me here!…looking to the West…
does auntie know you left?
…the horizon peaks like
the plumage of an atom bomb blast…nu-nu-nuclear Winter…he’s
running a fever…discontent..of…I ate all the cherry pills…
freezing…tireless treadmill…woozy…catching a train on the fly…
haul it in the yard…he’s coming to!…America Wins The War?…
concentrate…only a minute left…Just need that billing address…
perfect…what? what’s perfect?….I remember you and you…but, I
wasn’t there?…don’t hang up…lines crossed…treadmill 0:00…yes,
         I’m here now
…how are you doing?…loaded gun…question…hope
I didn’t keep you waiting…ground zero…I’m fine…namaste.

Just luggin’ that big ole brain like a gun, hey son?…If I die
before I’m born…here, burn the manuscript…postscript…re…
re…that’s supposed to go first…can’t kill what’s already dead.


can’t { justify}
got left out —

running it all back
between two atoms

Human formatting can be a bitch
keeps you up to 2 am when you gotta be to work by 5.

Still aiming for a bullseye, when it gets dark
Fling the arrow
Let’s go home

When did the po-em end? Begin??
It’s always running

P.s. for real now:
This is the stuff I wanted to write, experiment with, (still do) when I was discouraged by my writing instructor, who would go on to be a poet laureate and have a poetry prize named in her honor.
I know about all the don’t listen to critics stuff, now. I was young and hung on every word of feedback I could get. It’s what jams my gun, sometimes.
Words could be weapons
I could be using them wrong
How am I to know the difference, then?
No, then.
September 29, 2022 at 8:21pm
September 29, 2022 at 8:21pm
Heaves words like logs into a fire
Feels the warmth, hears a crackle
Smell piney, smoldering ash
stoked, glowing
yellow, red, blue, orange
chilling, retiring
gray and black, hissing
at the last of a drink flung

Scoop the remainder up again
start fresh tomorrow
Drawn into lungs
under stars glimpsed
Such a dreamer

Burn through so much wood
bountiful, wonderful, burnable wood
sectioned, split and stacked

Pull up a camp chair and join in


I really write for me. Contests, etc. do little lately to fuel me. Not that I don’t try.
Have to heft that wood to get it going.
September 16, 2022 at 8:09pm
September 16, 2022 at 8:09pm
Aim At My Tower?

Inhaling the good, clean air up high,
I stood between two wrecking balls,
and I was their tower.
Full of vitriol, their fuel,
indifferent words hefted, aimed,
flung from sky-loft,
missed and catapulted higher.
At apex, slow motion atom bomb
force-landed on each others head,
because I had the good sense
to duck.

Where'd the month go?

not sure how to frame (correct) works and break lines to reveal apex, pendulum force within lines while a delivery in the most impactful fashion. just to say, I stand between two that will take me out with their words if I don't get out of the way. I can be the focal point. it could be a three way war with only two armed. I don't come prepared for these 'fights' between the two hormonal objects I'm obligated to love?
September 10, 2022 at 1:34pm
September 10, 2022 at 1:34pm
At least she had the decency to run after him with palette knife to express her passionate plea.
I get 30 years of whittled bone from carving words sinking deep beneath my brow producing a Poe-pendulum fate.

September 10, 2022 at 11:48am
September 10, 2022 at 11:48am
"There's no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you." --Maya Angelou

and it won’t be told
agony snowballing
in gut
knows the void
and never understood
story isn’t truth
no words capture
this void
shaded by elms
hovering above roofs
ghosting your walls
feint horizontal flecks

it won’t ever be told
to a soul
risk the misunderstanding
of black
illuminating only within
no suffering
blanketed dark dreams
refolding in cavern
just echoes
painted on a canvas
you pass
in narrow passage
two indifferent hearts

one bleeds
just, not for you


21 years tomorrow — a misdirect, I confess
September 9, 2022 at 11:13pm
September 9, 2022 at 11:13pm
Links to authors below...

Like bamboo sprouts, we bend WakeUpAndLive️❤️pumpkin Day 1
in clockwork mechanical dance Beholden Day 1
Beat down the sand with happy soles Wraiths Whirling 'Round Day 1

It passed me by so fast, somehow LeJenD' The Bogey Queen Day 1
cracks are showing and fear is growing Itty Bitty Scaredy Kitti Day 1
whispering through the autumn trees Snow Werewolf Day 3
the wind smiles and collects lost leaves Elle (she/her) Day 3

Twisting weightless in some glorious lie Buddhangela, Ghost Of Coraline Day 3
I imagined the sunlight in your hair Ned Dreadful Day 1
Wish we'd talked long into the night 👑 pumpkin princess wheeler Day 5
Bringing love and joy to each moment Boo'ful Sonali in October Day 1

For the lonely and the sad 🐺Hunting Wolf's Moon Day 5
The air still heavy in the night Miwli Day 3
stoic practicality possesses this melancholic calm The Ghost of Jayne's Lost Sock Day 6
future leads to a frying skillet. Kåre Enga going to 🇹🇭 Day 7

15 lines, Cento-American Style

Thanks to all the great poet contributors. If you want this poem to stay up, I need all 15 of you to give this thumbs up. It's your poem. I just put some sentences together.
I want to add links to your poems, after some zzzz.

Write a Centro for Daily Poem:

You must:

line 1- "Time
line 2- "Question
line 3- "Odd O'blography
line 4- "A Mother's Lament
line 5- "100 Seconds to Midnight
line 7- "Every wait ends
line 8- "Clean escape
line 9- "For you, unsent
line 10- "Things Not Said
line 11- "Friends with Time
line 12- "A Simple Touch
line 13- "Lovely California
line 14- "*Exclaimb*WINNERS X 2 DAYS and NEW PROMPT SEPT 06"   *BigSmile*
line 15- "L R A E H D E O R

line 6 alternates -
It launch’d forth unreeling tirelessly speeding
came gently Whispering, I love you

by me from award winning redaction poem
"The Whispering

11 thumbs up plus...
"*Exclaimb*Re: Re: WINNERS and FINAL PROMPT"   jayne affirmation
"*Exclaimb*Re: Re: Re: WINNERS and FINAL PROMPT"   words whirling round affirmation
enga affirmation in comments
nfdarbie missing and will be replaced when the month is up, unless thumbs up this project

all respect to the true artists. poem will only be displayed here.
September 8, 2022 at 2:47pm
September 8, 2022 at 2:47pm
8 by 10

yellow waves ripple an ocean sunset.
eyes stray into glass-field gleaming.
heart bounds toward a clear vision.
if I stray, fear I'll fade forever.

in wildflower an idle mind wades.
weightless, lifted higher, sunken
into that mahogany frame. horizon
nears in that lucid pane reforming.

rush of a dry, sage world arrives.
new silence escapes the heavy day.
in valley, vibrant voices beckon.
browned skin in dusty cotton dress


in bittersweet isolation, happy
in love's desolation. blue eyes,
daisies adorn pale skin blushing.
red, a widening sea soon engulfs me.

sucked into time-paused eternity,
stolen moments break inside reality.
clocks realign, reawaken one redeemed.
it still does shine, now unconfined.

dreams tucked away, still at play.
a random view from that 8x10 hung
helped remember when, the sun, two
who were young, glowed on that horizon.


8 x 10  (E)
The dreamer captured in a time and a place that no longer exist except in memory.
#1162128 by BoreUs Karloff Compton

more of a romantic tact for the old poem about memories inspired by a glass-framed photo

What Have You Learned On Writing.Com?  [13+]
A contest to show off your new skills. For Writing.Com's Birthday Week.
by Itty Bitty Scaredy Kitti
September 6, 2022 at 4:42pm
September 6, 2022 at 4:42pm
the ocean came gently
Whispering, I love you
travell’d a long way
fear’d I might lose you

the last words dying
in the rolling ocean
like a single drop  “came”  miraculous

grateful to have last moments
part life and fear
entering into the afterlife

noiseless, patient
I mark’d a little promontory, isolated
Mark’d vacant, vast surrounding

It launch’d forth unreeling
tirelessly speeding Noiseless
a spider on a rock small

It weaves a complex, beautiful web
pays close attention
completes its task

By the end importance clear
lines open-ended. its web
a metaphor for soul   but means
isn’t clear.

23 lines
Redaction Poetry
The Daily Poem

2-Time WDC Quill Winner: Best Poetry Collection, 2020 and 2021

For quill 2021 winners

Redacted From:

Walt Whitman, From Poetry Analysis

Out of
the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me,
Whispering, I love you, before long I die,
I have
travell’d a long way merely to look on you to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look’d on you,
For I
fear’d I might afterward lose you.

In this lesser-known piece, Walt Whitman describes the last words of a narrator’s dying lover and his assurances they will find one another again in the rolling ocean. The poem begins with the speaker telling his reader that someone, like a single drop from the ocean, “came” to him. This is something that seems miraculous to the speaker. He is grateful to have found someone to spend his last moments with. He is part of the circle of life and death, and by the end of the poem, the fear associated with entering into the afterlife has dissipated.

noiseless, patient spider,
I mark’d, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Mark’d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
unreeling them—ever tirelessly speeding them.

In ‘A
Noiseless Patient Spider,’ the speaker spends the poem watching a spider. It is on a rock overlooking the ocean. Although it is small, the impact on the area and the speaker is clear. It weaves a complex, beautiful web. The speaker pays close attention to how, string by string, the spider completes its task.

By the end of the poem, the larger importance of the text as a metaphor is made clear. The final lines conclude the poem, but they are very open-ended. He says that he sees the spider and its web as a metaphor for his soul, but what exactly he means by this isn’t clear.
September 4, 2022 at 9:21pm
September 4, 2022 at 9:21pm
Actors like to pronounce their Gs

at the end of words-sah

They pronounce them so hard-dah
they sound like a lilting syllabah-lahs

I’m gonna need you to try that again.
One more time! Keep it rollin’.
Print it!



and don’t call me Noah.

Now, you gotta hit it hard …
Like we rehearsed …

Take, in 5 4 3 2 …

Your socks are swing-ging sing-gles.
They don’t seem to want to ming-gle.
Your laundry basket should be a mag-gnet.
The dryer trap is your only drag-gnet.

That’s a wrap!


Unless uncommon mates scrubbed in the tub
clung where they hung with a casual tee,
you see?


I’ll allow it, my child.
September 3, 2022 at 4:52pm
September 3, 2022 at 4:52pm
Madness, let me be.
This endlessness in reverie,
veins seep sadness.
Let me find some peace tonight.

In a second, empty comfort,
an angel. Sweet distraction twisting,
escaping with you, maybe.

That straight line keeps waiting —
cold brings me to my knees.

Fly away time; a chance break?
Beautiful release in dark veins building.
Easier in your arms this waiting.

Hard to make okay the reason.
In a second, feel good enough.
Empty, this weightless time tonight —
memory from that cold day.

Tired, silent vultures everywhere.
Fly away fear. The end I lack —
find storm wreckage of my reverie.

Believe me one last time, ok?
Inglorious madness, let me be.

21 lines, free verse
Daily Poem
Use only words from song Angel by Sarah McLachlan
Minimum 3 words per line


Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There's always one reason
To feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
Oh beautiful release
Memory seeps from my veins
Let me be empty
And weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight
In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there
So tired of the straight line
And everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back
And the storm keeps on twisting
You keep on building the lie
That you make up for all that you lack
It don't make no difference
Escaping one last time
It's easier to believe
In this sweet madness
Oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees
In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here


September 2, 2022 at 7:23pm
September 2, 2022 at 7:23pm
I carry my lunch pail
         swing the clasp box in tow, know
I carry you where I go

My coffee warm as your heart
         vigor consumed on dirt
at noon. Coming home soon.

The clock crows in my heart.

I’m coming home to you
         see cornbread consumed
on checkered cloth — stirring
our hearts with spoons.

We canoodle in the aroma
         of a plank-board room —
love hovers over our air.

The clock sings soon, too.

Last cup of strong Joe before
         rocks crushed and carried
to quarry to collect carats
for a ring banded so smooth.

I carry my box home fast,
         lighter, longing your heart
next to my heart — a soul of two.

Up the cool porch I bound.

Outstretched, I’m received
         above a firm clasp.
I really carry you now. Soft
in the parlor caress a prize.

From my box a box I carried
just for you, until this June.
         I crush rocks hard for you.
         Cradle a soft heart so tender.


31 lines
Free Verse

For The Daily Poem
Sampling some alliteration, also assonance with some consonance not so cautiously but casually.

September 2, 2022 at 8:11am
September 2, 2022 at 8:11am
I live in a world unlike yours
Sorry for the intrusion
I’m a bit alien, don’t align…
Though I’m trying to.
Could you stay in one place long enough…
You’re gone.
Who was I talking to?
I crawl back into this bell tower…
Spin some gears, fidget…
Trying to attune.
Was that a perfect note?
Loud enough for any other
To see with ears…
I belong here, too.


Spontaneous write to ‘Forgive Me’ Sorry by that over-apologetic singer, Tiffany Thurston. Pretty tune.

September 1, 2022 at 2:17pm
September 1, 2022 at 2:17pm

How did it get so late so soon?

under an avalanche pouring down time
on a well worn head, foggy

life: inevitable waiting
mysterious brown washing out ~~~
on a glass sea set on its side

inside it’s shapely bubble
  . . .slipping through

I lay at the bottom
remember you
on our beach
fire glowing ~~~ warmth of two souls

now darkness

you woke before me
now, no vigor left for deeper diving
the last granule could fall
into this anticipant void ~~~

i’m not ready

but everything is wonderful
         if you’re asking
how did it get so late so soon?

we could tilt this bubble back
I’d show you what we missed ~~~
read to you from my notebook

wake slowly
my love.


How many lines was that? 29
What the hell do you call that god-forsaken poetry style? free verse

I did make a Nicholas Sparks reference, if ever so slightly.

For 9/2/21 Daily Poem (no show)

Brian is a legally blind individual on the spectrum (highly functioning, I swear: pending complete self-diagnosis) with ADHD, for reals. It makes remembering hard between vision loss and 10,000 thoughts and other triggers in your impulsive head all at once. Don’t worry. I’m under good supervision and medication. Beautiful mind - commence shut down. Sorry, it takes awhile to shut this thing off. It could be all night, a week or month.

By the way, I want to mention I’m using a tablet to write. This is the only portion where I used talk to text. By the way, if IQ were scored by an arcade game I’d have top score.

Wrote to this (good background vibe for read):

Personally, I feel I’m trapped in a bubble of time — lock into one memory and make it play out forever, nearing the end of the vinyl record. Our glass or snow globe, shaken.

Forgot my glasses. Squint. Got ‘em now. Impulsive, forgetful. Squint.
Went to make coffee before reading what was happening today on writing.com, before this poem created for contest. I look at the Keurig now on standby. Just imagine if I had had caffeine.

August 27, 2022 at 6:38am
August 27, 2022 at 6:38am
What you notice —

by BK Compton (poet, photographer of words)

Your metallic, clunky cyclops,
you place your ‘good eye’
near my window,
never see my inner workings —
a cavern below —
but illumination of a scene
captured, more pleasing.

Pressing my trigger,
in a flash, by impulse,
quick-sketch all contained —
darkness into light.

On this thin film, spooled,
frame by frame, a slow
tugging war to get to the end.
You only open my compartment
to grab my work exposed.
Empty. Used. But, for a brief moment…

we were one. Now,
I sit in this dark all alone.

August 18, 2022 at 9:26pm
August 18, 2022 at 9:26pm
Honorable Mention (Stormy ‘loved this.’ Might have been an exclamation point in there…)

i don’t forget
like an elephant.
seasons of regret slow send
my palm leaf manuscripts whirling,
weaving through
the fading umbrellas, searching
earth, decomposition
in my unguarded soul.

i am thinning, too.

it pours down
on my gray head, falls faster
than a heart beating.
yet, unable to conceive:
why am I so dry?

landslide of memories,
tides wash out to gold horizon,
i suppose.
i have not spied her.
the only flame, doused:
light of my torch woman.
is she gray, too?
somewhere across this dark shore
where i’m anchored?

steadfast is a worn word.

life: inevitable waiting
while mysterious sand slips through
a shapely time glass.
it lays now at the bottom.
no vigor left for diving,
as the last granule could fall
soon in this void —

i’m not ready.

32 lines, free verse

Prompt Words — hence color:
heart weaving tides pours seasons life landslide human (can be man, woman, child)
August 16, 2022 at 6:47pm
August 16, 2022 at 6:47pm
The harder you try to figure it out, the further you get from the truth.

July 27, 2022 at 5:55pm
July 27, 2022 at 5:55pm

Glowing,           glimpsed
swaying   in a breeze
,   lone buttercup.
Your lengthy   neck          angles
,   flat-cropped,
yellow top  dares rival  a blue sky
that when black,
,  poured down  on your flimsy head  —  sent low
amid sparse  weed that hard
- fought   gravel,
clasping an Angel   nourished
. Your  golden coat
shook glad dust 
 upon them.  As a brood, coexist,
nestle  on a solemn
,  jagged roadonce
 bent unending  past wheat
,  corn and potato,
,  just as neglected.  Indistinguishable lines fade,
tar   slow collapses   from her intense  glare
left   spider
-cracked,          craggy not like
a flimsy  flower   seasons saturate
anointedglowing, glimpsed… 
by me

8.14.22 edit, formatted for Shadows and Light mid July/August contest

Merit Badge in Shadows and Light
[Click For More Info]

Hi Brian,

Congratulations on coming third in  [Link To Item #shadows]  with your absolutely beautiful poem, [Link to Book Entry #1035766]. 

This really is so clever and so pretty, and it has to be my favourite title of any poem I've read in a long time.


Idea that we are beautiful and remarkably outlast some of a dying world?
I aspire as a buttercup, or as the weed? *Think*
July 25, 2022 at 12:13am
July 25, 2022 at 12:13am

I’ll keep digging for obscure music…
July 23, 2022 at 9:07am
July 23, 2022 at 9:07am
I have directed her time and again where she can learn/read everything there is on my mind, worth knowing, to explain what it is with me, when no other place I beautifully express receives me. This is my struggle:

Tighten Up

I unspool like a ball of yarn

you don’t employ knitting needles

if I don’t roll back, tighten up,
you complain about the mess

it’s not your discipline

what is the purpose of unspooling?
where are the hands to receive me?
why am I just balled up,
afraid to lie about
on our floor
comparing to your store bought
rugs and tapestry?

I am yarn, unhandled,
not to be spilled?

Lately, nothing gathers me up

I roll, hide behind
the stained recliner,
under unswept kitchen table,
in shelves’ shadows by unwashed laundry,
by brood of dirt bunnies beneath our bed

No sobbing comes
Still worry you might find me,
fear from low the investigating shoes
spying places where their eyes glow —
furry distractions that gently paw,
nibble, roll about in open sunlight

If I had only them - simplicity

I could lay a mess, complete.

28 lines, free verse

She’s my saving grace, a buoy in the water of life — bobs anchored on the other end of the spectrum, barely hears me, can’t save me. We at least exist in the same ocean. Am I watercraft? What metaphor am I that traverses mentally to and from her to yell I’m drowning before finally knowing my beacon might only mark the location of my distress? Late realization, she can feel hopeless, unable to float free and join me in brilliant, haphazard, mental escape. I could drown, but we could live beautifully before disaster on my infinite, equatorial pursuit to be discovered here. Rescue?

Is this the best I can ever dream for me/us, sans an ordinary, risk-free life?

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