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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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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 ▼ |
| Another year older I get vampires now Now seven hours older, my eyes open. It's Father's Day and I have to decide how we'll celebrate. No one wants to get up. My wife prattles about this or that and all I can think is hammock, served mixed concoctions, woozily sleep in the warmth, shade, whatever I need during the quiet Sunday hours, to not think of the college dropout, the girl who became a boy, of the woman who diminishes me for neglected chores a day before my key to a city of redemption. I can rule any way I know how -- chose a meal fit for a king. But, I idle in bed thinking how can I appease them, make a right choice, have a guilty pleasure, or two, like a cigar I'd never smoke, fine liquor I never imbibe. I can't choose. More alone, uncelebrated and ready to be another day older like a vampire who seemingly never ages because he doesn't linger over a washed out image in a steamy mirror -- a mix of blindness, forgetfulness and deliberate fogginess to recollect a man free of family, free to wave fully collected, blond follicles and flex a steel body over four cylinders on two wheels, to push this machine to 90 -- wheel beyond well-traveled roads and find the hidden creek where she laid on a river bank, drunk on beer until stars melded into one raging fire, fire I could stoke... dim-lit, I draw the shades for another hour, but not until night like a vampire, because it rains this afternoon and they have other plans. 6.20.21 36 lines, free verse I don't know, just went with it. Thoughts of aging, worth, etc. as a man whose is supposed to be king for a day, I guess? Sounds like a character build up for another post 45 Tim Allen movie. |
| Now that I’ve learned all the dance moves (that I care to know), I freeform rather than conform. Rhyming structured poetry is conforming. Free verse bends the minds of simple analytic into places you’re mind won’t go, attempt, conceive because...because you need the one, two, three, four, step! measured time, dip your sweetheart on that dime, spin her back again dosey-doe, though you don’t know, you don’t know where I could go. I call; you fall, check yourself out and wait for the next band playing a rhythm, some harmony, and you think you'll give it a try, but you're out, leave eventually, because this is not your kind of poetry party. Keg -- tapped -- out. I built this place and this is the way I like to dance the best. 6.19.21 That's how I do! Justin, take it home... |
| I’ve got summer in my hair. tiny deposits, infinite and microscopic stones of sand leave remnants of you, mix with a humid Coppertone and coconut infusion inhaled, harkening me back to a distant beach we claimed our own. a golden body gleaming inspected your guarded, framed eyes deflecting while reflecting a diligent sun straining. propped on your elbows, your immaculate teeth bared grinning, as I shadowed him from you -- yearned to know how to hard press you on that soft cotton covering a square yard -- crumpled, fluttering confusion that would be swept away if not for you in the invisible insistence encircling us, waving my summer flag of blond hair, straight and unkempt. just a boy standing in front of a girl. how could we keep messing it up, return to shore, dock on 'what ifs' distant starlight -- the hours later, hotter every night, knowing a black sky would shroud, envelop and drain every last ounce of summer for the rest of life. I inhale this essence on pale, hard skin. follicles cling for dear life, yearn tempting youth notice a vibrant man on one more trip to park on summer sand with dreams unrequited, mussing me up. 6.19.21 34 lines, free verse I'm torn sometimes which way to edit, punctuate and break up lines in a poem, because one method changes one tone where another need apply and vice-versa. So, I keep hacking at these things without thinking, make two poems of it. Keep the original in a dropnote and see what comes out on the other end? Maybe, I'll give that a try someday. Lord knows, I do enough pushing of words about these rooms. I could just give myself a rest and stop obsessing with unachievable perfection, go for a sloppy baseline with tight vocals instead...metaphorically speaking, if I lost you. My Summer Hair Original ▼ |
| Return Again storm at 3 am a distant dream morning light yields encompassing humid, summer plight melts quiet visions inspire that tender, yellow field crossed receding at the elm tender bodies sheltered souls washed toes first dip in swirling stream gentle arriving cattails witness your form undress we lie on the bank round, firm you tan cool bodies bared bake in sun cool in breeze open to the world seek no forgiveness innocent, sweet play, earning break from judgment burn daylight time still before the invention of a clock night calls we promise to return again but summer ends for all seasons I recall. 6.19.21 |
| I want a Mata Hari to infiltrate my life. If someone's going to rob me blind, my privacy to conduct as if some criminal flying below radar, suspected, tailed, subjugated to your seedy, low-life underworld that would dare compare a morality exceeding, greater than mine, because I've made my share of mistakes, then give me the red dress femme under street lamp, lit cigarette. I look my foes in the eyes, some shudder, blink, back away while I think where is my temptress to undress in haste, lay waste to dirty little secrets, get me spill what little I know for her show -- eyes sparkling like gems hidden in summer sand. When she balances a petite, garnished drink in hand, I’m her mark, her man. We dive, drown in each other’s eyes exchanging passionate kisses. Her brand of lipstick for my teeth pleasure in her flesh -- all in the name of our love of the badge, double agents, penetrating intentions by fire, dishonestly entangled, she in myth, you in yours watching through blinds, and me enjoying the game, get your womanly agent to convert to my side. Mata in my corner, on the inside, danger courted, as true criminals pass through the night while a diversion ensues in empty vocation. I need some Mata Hari, if I am going to live this kind of lie. I'm an unsuspecting Cary Grant who's gotten wise. Why don't we compromise and have her shave her legs tonight with a tiny razor.  6.18.21 don't read the following catch line, if you're easily offended ▼ Written for my employer, who doesn't trust me. I figure I should gets some perks out of our association, if I have to put up with their blatant, arrogant ignorance. They've unnecessarily put too many good people through too much. I want another shot, B.K. I wasn't ready. I've made my mind up. going in another different direction with these poems. |
| Why don't you point your confetti gun at the discouraged, the underfed, under-served, instead of the two percent who have enough? I stand at the line with an empty plate, ready for a few words, and see this place isn't for me. I have food at home. I could use company, but not when there is so much mediocrity that we can't cultivate the best from downtrodden souls, give them a hand in their hour of need, rather than pity for a lifetime. Why do we rub elbows with the elite, marvel at celebrity? To get a piece of that pie? Table scraps is all I see, and thus I put my plate back, return the tines and sit beneath the everlasting tree shading me for an eternity, hoping they will come visit to share a few joyous moments. The sun will fade, a chill will rise, but not for a flame burning in our eyes. Insects will bite as we don full attire and cavort about a fire, telling stories each has never heard. We hope somehow we've found a friend for life, before our tongues tire and souls depart. If I could just remember your name in the morning, I'm sure we'd meet beneath that tree again. I drive by time after time, as I'm sure you have done the same. Just didn't get your name. The search for a friend and true purpose begins again. 6.17.21 now that's a rambling piece of prose. Meh. |
| You charmed me, my friend. Never questioned your intentions, when we stopped seeing each other. And when I gather, I frown to think I sent you away unhappy. Never my intention. I never want to be without your knowing look, wink of approval, a friendly hand at my back willing to guide me to the right course, a true destination I though we shared before I realized, it was our parting. You did not follow or run after me, calling, 'wait up!' What is this strange place I'm staring out now, as the sun goes down? Crickets could be charming a full moon right now, with a porch swing and lemonade as the heat subsides, but you don't lend balance to a wobbly thing too large to guide a solitary body. I could reminisce, but what's the point? 6.17.21 I keep writing when I should shut up. "Note: I'm only a better writer because I've been..." |
| The abused and neglected will stay confused and rejected, because they will start hurting themselves, when you stop out of guilt (yourselves) unable to ease their own pain, unable to realize they go through it again with or without you, conditioned. My hands as big and strong as those that squeezed a tender wrist, couldn't hurt another. But a mind that went through that daily grind is still tender, like putty in your hands when you realized a gullible soul seeking harmonious life only found you, and now handles a knife since you left to shame me for daring near a sunny disposition. Your only aim was to manipulate and leave me in the cold again. Isn't it bold to blame me, as I blame myself for being a tender soul who can never grew up, always wanting to believe in facsimile utopia I could pick up where I left off — or stuck in infinite loop — believing, spiraling believing in people like you to lift me up, deflecting words of shame, your little blame game that leaves me gaslit. 6.17.21 11.14.23 adds/edits/restructure/rhyme and it’s power or retraction (Kit’s Higher Ratings) ...if I could punish you...disconnect, resurrect and try again for myself this time. I'll keep writing these five minute things. Not a fiver anymore And a big fuck you to Dave who hears me rail against those who shut me out in the gym with ‘Your a big guy’ (making excuses for ignorant dickheads) like it’s supposed to suggest I can take the emotional abuse from dehumanizing assholes. Though, if it was somewhere else…nope, never raise a hand. I’ll keep using my words…questions even.
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| You're unwilling to suspend disbelief, as you parse, because you do not believe in the perfect metaphor, plying lines and words for a hiccup. yet, I'll keep trying, verse after verse to hook you and make you a believer of imperfection and the value of the interplay between what we can't achieve like returning to Eden. It's tragedy. We root for the losing team, so why not me? I'd entertain a scholarly Nazi for hours, idling at my bed, ready to dive beneath the covers, read past dark, when in the wee hours you see what I struggle for... ...self-worth. 6.17.21 Write like you? I don't think so, but I'm wiling to compromise. How do you think I came this far to greet you? |
| you laugh when I divide this 'shoe leather' with a serrated knife, a thin, hard beef marinated hours, bought with my bottom dollar, seasoned to perfection to raise my fork in triumph, as it settles on the tines. Dripping meets the watery mouth. Molars have their work, as it turns and turns, savored, a tough life I will enjoy much longer than those fools dining on tender meat pleasantly presented amid steamed broccoli, carrots and cauliflowers on an oversized, thick plate, their wallets emptied and long out the door, while I'm on my third raspberry sangria, washing down a merciful cow. you laugh, but I smile because I know I got my money's worth. and I didn't even need steak sauce. 6.17.21 26 lines, free verse Another five minute write while listening to "Slow Burn" by Kacey Musgraves My wisdom might be showing |
| We liked to take pictures when we were young. Do you remember the ones? Do you know the binder that held a history, we couldn't share when she died, divided up? Partially in tact, memory fades, missing. We liked to snap the trees in Autumn, but wondered why we couldn't capture a feeling, moments long past recalled from point of aim at a horizon daring, burning and bleeding out sunset after sunset. Do you remember when I called you my friend forever? What were we thinking by not preserving? Where will I find you now on that horizon? I'm staring at rivers and lakes, blue skies and the prettiest trees, and can't remember a single moment. I can't see me there with you, because you're not here to stare at this incipient void between two humble atoms in decay. 6.17.21 26 lines, free verse written to "Hold On" by Sarah McLauchlin If you learn what incipient void is, you'll get the context further Conversely: I do what I want to do and today I write, because I don't want to do what you want. and it still doesn't make me any happier. |
| Every moment is a movie scene locked in indecisive emotion, watching you walk away again, out every door into any arms other than mine, because I can't give you what you need until this story's end -- if I can get you there with me. Every story starts with sweet serendipity, like you and me, when we discovered each other. We've had highs and lows since then. And now I'm stuck in my own story. How can we get to the end, without you here to see me through this intermission? Why would you leave now? Where is that special vision you use to see right through a sorry soul like me, help me realize, actualize and be what you deserve? The story's not over, even if you never come back. I'll struggle to carry this to a sadder conclusion. 6.16.21 meh, again |
| About The T-Word Men who write poetry don't create metaphors for tampons until she asks him to add it to the shopping list, and I decide to write: "sandbags". But, it makes me think of oil spills from ships on rocks, run aground by drunken captains whose negligence disturbs fowl with black crud in pristine waters, or, or filtration systems that turn sewage into drinking water and, yuck, yes add bottled water to the list. With head spinning and spinning, think I need another metaphor, google this thing, because what do I know about tampons, except never discuss them with a woman. 6.16.21 7.6.21 edit just off the top of my head, a five minute write. I'm not even going to look back (okay, I did). Close my eyes and prepare to wince. |
| There are times, I sit here with my brain in my lap and ask, 'what am I going to do with you?' Too big for a pet, too small as a child, we could sit here all the while and mark the hours together in brilliant wonder and ignorance. Dishes in the sink, laundry long past remarking 'turn me over' as I bounce you on my knee, and you say, 'whee!' The sun has long since inspected the goings on inside this room, month of June, when the grass could be fed, trimmed an inch or two. Autos outside this glass decelerate and accelerate the corner, mock with their egress. I'm still not dressed, urgent clocks scream, warning noon -- daylight draining beyond the roof to the pines, sundials in late afternoon with you staring with me at this screen, as if we create destiny with empty balloons inflated on hyperbole, for an invisible lap animal and it's master, who actualizes in the hour before her machine winds home, around the corner into a cool garage, not open since dawn, when I first yawned. 6.16.21 free associate free verse with my lap monkey |
 I can't figure out the judges for Writer's Cramp. I create something I don't like and I win. Make something I take pride in and not even close to a whiff. I can write a solid poem in five minutes, edit it into a gem in less than 24 hours. Just going to keep putting them out there and keep watching others surpass me, while inspired to keep trying to see what they'll accept or reject next as more of a clinical experiment. Never knowing who the judge is going to be is vexing. It could be someone who hates poetry.
It's acknowledgment of Emily Dickinson, not that a judge would say why or why not a daily write is worthy, but they should get the inference. I effort to write daily, which I can do on my own. I'm writing to stale prompts, which I try to polish and make look good. I can come up with more inspiring words to induce my pen, just seek prompts that aren't cliché and deserve introspection to carry forward inclinations as creations toward some ultimate goal. To be better writers, or published? I seldom mail it in when I attempt. But, don't want to toil needlessly over a project that spins out right where it has begun. On to the next one, as I say in my poetry blog. Maybe you've heard of it? 2020 Quill for best poetry collection (I might start milking that):
Look back at my 14 1/2 years here and notice how much I've improved. That's from tireless, obsessive-compulsive, ADHD-driven effort. an emoji is worth upwards of 10 words. Sometimes, it's better to say nothing. But, why else blog? |
| Accelerator (Feeling Helpless?) I’m speeding up, not slowing down, heading straight for a brightening star. acceleration is my fate. why buckle up? why look away or grip a wheel that won’t steer? no passenger, no navigator in this hapless life, I’ve always known my direction as windows to this vehicle afford a view of other vistas and horizons, the lone occupants of other vehicles, some screaming, in this maddening galaxy of stars, only to find the closest returning daily. I’m rolling, spinning, tilting on axis like a wobbly piece of mud, dried and glazed, know it’s not long before I smack a hard fire dissolving my tongue, while I ram the accelerator with the tip of the last appendage it takes, not satisfied until I’m a crisp, and on to the next, in this futile incinerator of a life. 6.14.21 Don’t give death the pleasure |
| perception is position. did i dream you? these visions in the night feel so real. someone plays my part, whenever i cannot see, and you tell me it's imagination. but perception makes it feel so real. was that you with me? or just some fantasy? we could pack our bags, take flight, to anywhere we dream in these visions i'm imagining, throw caution to the wind, let a plane like a boomerang sing, send us to the next horizon. 6.13.21 look what I can do with five minutes of my considerable life. response to 'naked eyes' video. |
| She gives good views of ample cleavage. I know you think it, because I saw you peek, linger long, when you trained your eyes to dare drink in the visage, when you didn't think you'd be caught admiring a form she takes pride in. Why else would she employ a blouse like that? for you or whoever would appreciate what she's got; though, won't allow herself to smile, but knit those considerable black brows that hover over squash eyes that wide would let you know she approves, if you dare stare in her direction for another beat too long? Would it be so wrong to get caught, and just nod your approval? I am her. 6.13.21 a mix of fake fantasy and reality for the commonality of an ordinary situation that cancel culture wants to shame men for, if they are old or undesirable, unless they are cute as puppies, or Thor. another from the one-hit-wonder factory. wait? which? poem or song below? I'm certifiable |
| Homogenized Memory Of Love ...another life, while I reminisce, pine for the origins of our story... homogenized, expression stales the longer each verse regales the elements of a story that can't get any better. with age, with time, we want to top it, sweeten the thing we sucked the life out of. what's wrong with origins, what's real and what we can accept as truth? i said that i loved you, but the longer we linger, the longer we stale, having sucked you dry. we could lie naked by virgin rivers flowing, wade into that surf of moon-glow love, eaten and stung by regret and pain. it will never be the same, again. clothed at the side of your bed, words fail inspiration, a true story to tell you about my love. i see you're dressed, too. you'll dance again with another man, another life, while i reminisce, pine for the origins of a true love story. 24 lines freeflowingverse 6.13.21 3.28.21 minor edits I'm a better lover than any man she can imagine; she'll be back again... Listening to Cannons and thinking about Sade, when I ached for true love's origin story. Added last lines in italic to open poem, set mood to see if this intro would help or hurt overall intent. |
| Old Neighborhood A thousand warm guitars hummed in unison below the vibrato windows -- single-pain, pitchy harmony -- along a complex building in crumble tar lot near the baleful, empty field, never harvested, usefully absorbing a vision of acoustic melody of summer, low rising beyond morning to a dry day -- we could walk away from the private homes, to the bottom of a sack, find our favorite lone tree at the end of the world, sheltering the ravine with a thick-slow creek eking a narrowing runoff -- puddling sog-roots of cattails that whistled while looking the other way, hiding a blend of amphibians and blades of grass so sharp -- one sliced my index finger, and I learned the meaning of 'coagulation', the summer when we cared to ride bikes with gears that stuck and greasy chains slipping like lassos that couldn’t find the heads of steer. A last summer to inhale garlic chips, chocolate bars and orange soda from spare change stolen. The last summer I'd remark about clouds that didn’t insist on me knowing they exist. The only time that maple would be small enough to roost unyielding, everlasting torsos. I hadn’t taken a bath in a week or had yet smelled strawberry scented shampoo on Sherrie’s hair. She was a handful who you didn’t like, especially after my dad’s hand-me-down Pontiac. We all sat on the hood with stolen beer and stared at a sunset and arriving stars. You quietly walked home and I couldn’t be more pleased. Except now, when I stare at a leafless tree they’ll cut down tomorrow, among other 'improvements' to come in our old neighborhood. Ha! 38 lines, freeverse, take that! 6.12.21 Poetic fiction echoing sentiments of friendships lost long ago.. Want to get rid of one of the two 'of' used in line six...maybe, later. |
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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)
![Merit Badge in Quotation Inspiration
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Congratulations on winning 1st Place in the September 2022 round of [Link To Item #quotation] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/WDC-Quotation_Inspiration.gif)
![Merit Badge in Artistic
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Congratulations on winning day 6 of The Daily Poem Sept 2022!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Artistic-125.gif)
![Merit Badge in Problem Solving
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From [Link To User jayne] : With my apologies for the Redaction Poem prompt mishap. Thank you for taking on the challenge! I hope to see you next time for a redaction-free week of fun at [Link To Item #dailypoem] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Problem_Solving-210.gif)
![Merit Badge in Inspiring Love For Poetry
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Congratulations on being our Honorable Mention in March of 2022 at [Link To Item #2216416] !
Blessings, Sharmelle](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Inspiring_Love_For_Poetry-2259846_14.gif)
![Merit Badge in Action Adventure
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CONGRATULATIONS for [Link To Item #2229211] winning place as an Honourable Mention in [Link To Item #2254385] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Action_Adventure-100.gif)
![Merit Badge in Bard's Hall Blogging Merit Badge
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For placing 3rd in the Bard's Hall Blogging Contest, June 2022](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Bard=s_Hall_Blogging_Merit_Badge-2094227_12.gif){kind=icon}
![Merit Badge in G Specials
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Congratulations for winning 1st Place during the April 2022 round of [Link To Item #2268646] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-G_Specials-2271325_14.gif)
![Merit Badge in Chapter 1
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Congratulations on your 1st Place win in the April 2022 Round of Chapter One! Great entry! *^*Smile*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Chapter_1-2251918_14.gif)
![Merit Badge in Accuracy
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Congratulations to our 1st Runner Up of [Link To Item #2254385] Round6.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Accuracy.gif)
![Merit Badge in 30DBC Winner
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Congrats Team Pedantic Poets Platoon on winning [Link To Item #1803384] during WDC's 21st Birthday Festivities!! Well done!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-30DBC_Winner-2064535_14.gif)
![Merit Badge in Every Moment Matters
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A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art.
― Paul Cezanne
Thanks for your participation in my 'art' challenge via my notebook feed.
Keep on being inspired! *^*Bigsmile*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Every_Moment_Matters.gif)
![Merit Badge in Brilliant
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CONGRATULATIONS on [Link To Item #1145690] winning a place in "Honorable Mentions" in [Link To Item #2254385]](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Brilliant.gif)
