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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. 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 "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 ▼ |
| Another Day Drowning The rain came again and it looks I’m up to my neck. Limbs heavy, wish to float. Rising to surface, after submerged, I gasp for breath. I wipe water like buckets of tears, so I see you again, envision memory of what we had. The sun lowers, angles and shines a blinding sheen. I can’t wait for darkness to take me to the river bed. You swum so well for all the years our child minds dreamed a wide ocean. Passing ships of any size, variety, gleamed. Witnessed you ride waves effortless, while I bob and thrash, try not ingest in my lungs. Water isn’t clean, as when we were young. Clouds swell on the horizon. Say a prayer I’m here to greet another day, drowning. 6.20.22 Getting old is all. I know my time could be nearing, without having lived like I dared dream. |
| Quiet, listen… I’ve been…shhh. Quiet, She’s singing…I’m listening. Each lyric, inflection, pause for rest. That’s when we collect. Do you understand? Get the meaning, while swaying to an intoxicating melody? Look up. She stares you in the eye, deep, fully aware the spell casting, yearning for something. But what is it she can’t forget that brings her to an ear? You’re standing near, yet far. You could reach and taste the delicacy of a voice bending and blending soulful. Harmony that strikes a chord, salivates craving for a moment in her aura, as an aria spins, takes you to a knee, unbelieving, you were missing what you didn’t see. Glowing in this moment, quiet listening to her gold spun, gleam in soothing sun. Her song must end — but you still hear. Now, reflect. 6.19.22 To ‘Elephant’ by Freya R "The Bard's Hall Contest" Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me here. Don’t… |
| Fuzzy Fuzzy, the nearer I get arriving — arms at your side, not open and I’m…fuzzy not like you, when I was fizzy, dizzy, drunk on your love, your lips received on my tender flesh, warming love — rolling, boiling, now fuzzy. was it a dream? I want to see you clearly. Was it all a lie? Did your love make me high? Drunk on one so conceited to believe I’d be hurt. I’m just a bit fuzzy. these eyes will clear. I don’t need you to lift unwilling arms. Maybe, you’re the fuzzy one. You had my heart in your clutch. It won’t drop fully. I can catch, even though I’m fuzzy. It won’t take long for someone - you - to come to their senses, fully envision loss. Clearer, my eyes now. Turn. Walk away, don’t run. Still… a bit fuzzy. 6.17.22 while at work, interrupted for taking a few minutes by a nosy boss. I could develop a chorus. Need another chance. #freyaridings |
| Make Up Something New/No To Cake Whenever it's late I need romance with something. There's no chocolate cake. The novel can still wait. Coffee isn't brewed until morning. If I binge that show, I'll sleep late. Drama in my brain doesn’t equate to a world’s pain. Endless suffering needs recreate notions of dream love, when I can't concentrate on a dutiful nightingale cooing in my ears buried in pillow. Take the car out? Where's there to drive? Fill up bags of groceries? I can't eat then flatulate. What about a book? Haven't indulged in yarn for years. The nightmare I'm living wouldn't bring any to tears. So, sleep, dream, maybe see her materialize again, if you recall the one that got away, you wish would have called. But, it's half a life ago. No escape. I chase silly words on a dim screen, so the one I lay by won't wake. More than half these years, unstated need in gut no medicine would touch. In soft fortress encased, fuzzy thoughts beg, Come back in, dream again. No alarm will disturb. Enter scene, wait and listen in a darkening revision. Black is night. Black in my head. She's not coming back. I'll make up something new tomorrow to ease the dread. 6.16.20 I edited, somewhat carelessly, overly, hopefully…ly-lee, ly-lee. Sorry, I got to produce as a muse flies. #freyaridings |
| Kicking stones. How’d I get here. Is this cul-de-sac the end Of Earth? Existence? There’s a quarry ahead. I could lift each stone, peruse, Wonder if perfection exists — How smooth, if the right fit For my chucking hand, Take aim at those other castoffs, In retrograde, living in an aggregate, A hole like purgatory. How did I get here, wayward, Mindless booting things further Down a road called redemption? I only see my prison lies ahead. Well, better make the most of it. Roll these sleeves down, haul stone. I’ll examine each one, luck to find beauty Where in my travels it seldom exists, and Less obtainable, like the right rock to kick. 6.16.22 7.3.22 edit #freyaridings keeps me rolling |
| These tumblers don’t align, as I spin and spin, seek egress again into an ocean of words swum that hauled out by an eager man compile messages longer than S.O.S. This lifelong game to win affection, recognition I’m worthy of your love, disregards any notion of self-worth. Not complete without reciprocation, Validation that does not come easy. S.O.S. You could watch my toil, tousle a blond crop. I wouldn’t notice, obsessed until I finish, offer each as answer before smiling eyes, see only disguise. Just feels my best not good enough, when you oar to shore. S.O.S. Who’ll solve the puzzle of me, before I accept there is no true love, a fable for all, enthrall a meager man with no plan, but fish this open sea contemplatively. Can I come correct, see response to my S.O.S.? 11.14.22 Free #freyaridings from U.S. anonymity, sorta |
| Heavy Tonight Cap tight — lid on lid, a crown un-bejeweled lifted from sour skull with scowl into a fast mirror that reflects, but quicker deflected. Eyes trained by shame, resulting guilt, spark self-doubt that I should reveal, yet conceal anger, easily expressed ignorantly since youth. Does it make me wiser to self-contain in a powder keg? I remove the denim, unbuttoned, slide into my easy chair, no care for a throne. I’m no king where I roam. Should I roam? with tired words, worn expressions as deep as furrowed brows yearning rest, one good night’s sleep? I lay the head on not one, but two pillows fresh, adorned by the dryer’s heaven scent. Hope just one dream from youth returns again, tonight. 6.13.22 #freyaridings |
| Your face appeared an expressionist painting come to life capturing back its original beauty — and more than just breathing, vocalizing hauntingly, lovingly and reassuring. And I am with you. Blue eyes like ours edge with gleaming, crooning our composing, attuning to any willed ear. I realize your embodiment may never near any closer to one so eager and studious of your visage — truth in beauty, embodiment painters can’t live without. I’ll never blackout you. As my vision fades, always I’ll hear tempting words you send, reverberating wave patterns tracing your signature, symphonic harmony. 6.12.22 You peaked before I could glimpse your rising. |
| When You Glowed You’re small to me now, but somehow like a funhouse mirror, viewed tall, a mentor who could mold blob of boy, acting man. Sham, not for who I am, but shamed by someone who tried tame wild. Couldn’t comprehend I didn’t depend, sought the world his own way. Your guilt, a ploy. Learning, growing taller in shadows, the world would look much smaller, as you sighed, nothing to do but unclench aging, arthritic hands, loosen a well-worn scowl, darkened by that thin brim burying any expression of impression. Your objections and rejection didn’t help me grow but further away. Someday. Someday, greet again. Share lessons. Maybe, my chance to glow again. 6.11.22 This could apply to a lot of men in my life who thought they knew better, rather than help me cultivate personal interests and unique personality, choosing shame and ridicule to serve as methods of mentoring an ignorant one. In consideration of Bard’s Hall…"The Bard's Hall Contest" . |
| The pencil knows the story, flips when my redacting head repels her graphite. This heat of my friction reduces to rubble each errant word scrubbed from start to nearly every never finish. Well-worn sheets wadded, sent away from our station. My round torso reduces as pencil sharpens, honed to a fresh edge. I wait, worry when my rubber strikes cemented words, harder, deeper, severs a thin page, worthless. Half-life for me. Pencil pens on. Writer pauses plenty, talks aloud to muses and gods. Pencil gets her ear; I get a stubborn head, tenderly rub temper, the temporal aching. Pencil knows his fiction. I’m just friction — an abrasive unknowingly lending to story. As heat, I’m rubber and glue, sticky enough to grab graphite particles, bond the small pieces collected, sent away by smooth stroke of writer’s hand to live in a wooly, divided land. Combined, we settle on carpet, regale dust mites of lessons from a tangled mind spinning yarn after yarn and the truth left behind. Erasable jottings, reformed, live in a dry, decaying land. Beware of the vacuum — our rebuilt graphs are not ready for space, traveling from bag to bin to sodden land. 6.10.22 28 lines, free verse 213 words Legit writ today in acknowledgement of: "The Bard's Hall Contest" Prompted by "Personify Writing Contest-CLOSED" Personify an eraser for June |
| Therapeutic Analytic Poem I get this image of stubborn cows they gently nudge, at first, to move from pasture. They kill them for meat. They could raise a gun to me. Humane? It requires a clean shot. Where are the gunmen, because a cow knows nothing, except not wanting to go? If you’re a human cow, you slowly suspect guns filled with concisely instructed words implement each cow-like journey to the processing plant. Terminated, no promised heaven to dream beyond. Once dead, neatly divided and packaged. Who would deny this traditional process of gaslighting a cow to stop grazing, come home and let the end be humane, equitable as possible. Mom needs butchered meat, so the boys can eat, grow up and be strong as cows. Never intending to be shooed from yard and street — but human, and better. We are better than stubborn animals, don’t obey our farmers, with bullets of dread. it can get messy, roaming about ‘free’. Cows used are stud, milked, grilled in portions as steak. Slice me, grind for your hamburger to fry. All of this we must eat like destiny. from 6.1.22 on iPhone while dehumanized at work. 6.9.22bedited, altered, blogged |
| My clothing, hung to dry for any prying eye… I’m investigating every emotion felt, ascribing words that don’t quite match. hope a paint-brushed portrait of words I long reveal to an audience, to any that would assemble, considers love guided by illusion, or delusion, discovers how a spark initially intends. Sorry, if dry etchings don’t drip brilliant, never-envisioned-before color, the kind you fantastically assign. after stark, sobered perception, each nude word clothed codes in fleeting memory for you, hanging hope on time nail, hooked by stable wire. a piece of me and you on flat drab, adorned forever, loosens little in shadow of a narrow, hollow hall, cluttered, where half-dressed we excuse our passing. soft words want harden as timeless paint, indelible, never fading or peeling, sealed in some super gloss before falling into abyss I fear to navigate, retrieve essence of whatever it is you and I envisioned together, forever. I must step back, catch breath, breathe, inhale each consideration reconsidered in redraft after next to final, final edit. be still, view. slow this new scene, once quick-paced, now measured. tiny intervals redacted scenery, scrubbed wildflowers, replanted, recolored, recast. swaying sights lush with life anew, gentle in soothing breezes. I squeeze your neglected arm, haul you out. time still beats for an obsessive revisionist. sorry, my throbbing muffles conceivable sound. Hear me now, or hear me never. It’s hung. 6.6.22/6.9.22 We must commit to finish what we started, so we have time to live. 36 lines, free verse (if we must count like accountants) *Notice use of capitalization from apology to assertion. |
| Poetry and publishing are like how I love fishing, but clueless where to drop a line in the water. I could get pretty skilled at it, if I find some places. I could ask around where to fish, but many won’t reveal their secret hole. Or, just no good advice out there. Or, so far removed from the best places to fish, you get stuck hauling sunfish/bluegill not big enough… to scale, bone, cut up…to eat. Slightly bigger than your bait, you could still haul one worthy to take home. It’s the excitement of prepping, setting your pole to reel one in, and tender wait on a temperate day, when trees shimmy turbulent leaves, yellow, green, yellow, green and the blue fades into white billows sketched on dappled glass that teases just enough to get you to grasp and tighten that light line a bit before…reel back, cast and set again. A red float happily bobble-spin dances before a little back and forth and round and down, and the game begins! Hope she’s a beauty. The One. A dream. Did I just make a poem out of that? Day 4: "The Bard's Hall Contest" 6.8.22 "Note: Revised and retitled poem [Link to Book Entry #1..." |
| They found your love, hit the target. I could not get within range. So rare, other worldly, I connect as dust to aria aura that bleeds melancholy. On tides I ride our ocean apart. Your Castles rise beyond my eyes, Where empty I find myself With warbled words harmonious, Tracing the signature of my core, A soul of rubble, rebuilding with hope I could be as strong as I ever was. You do not know you hold my hand In this strange, beguiling land. In waves of rhythms, I flow further From where I’ve been, visualize How my love could hit your target. Heightened senses reel, knowing What we share in your Castles. With aim true, my slender words would echo: (after my golden arrow struck) to revel in your love…to revel in your love… 6.10.22 Aim seems a theme with me lately. Thank you Freya, newly discovered Titian-haired goddess of song, with apparent genetic markers akin, resonating in a captured boy’s disconnected soul. |
| The switch is faulty, wiring exposed, laminate peeling, but copper-strong. Ready to ignite a feeling if you flip. If you flip, I’ll light all you dream. I could be everything I want to be, illuminate our way. But, you fear electricity, drawn to a wall, dull. Vibrant paint time peeled away. The hall is dark, where we two sway. Maybe, light will find us another way. I’ll sing for you, if you have no song. 6.6.22 12.30.22 edit |
I’m a bard, essentially, so my poetry blog is dedicated to:
for June 2022. In Love With A Cactus I’m in love with a cactus, that took so long to flower before my eyes in this dry, jailed heat that releases my tears, lifting to feed the hungry air shared. A clean sun bakes us in dusted kiln, apart, glazing with fear to touch your skin. Will I bleed? Will you need me love again, harder, deeper, impale my love on stoic arms of nails? I’m in a canyon, scaled down a lifetime to reach, to near your precious core. Why do I question anymore? Seasons beneath each pale moon rush past, silent stealth gone before I rise. My eyes crust and crack open, long for any tender touch to wake. The days had just begun, soared, nearing in this descent. No other use for these ailing arms, knowing I must squeeze with all my strength. Breath vacates deflated lungs. When young, had I seized the chance, I’d climb. Good for you that I fear falling, our story with no arc or acts — just brilliant, magnetic curtains stars pierce, gases fueling a radiant sundown. 6.2.22 6.6.22 edit Screw stanzas, line breaks. Keep your nose to the grindstone, pry for meaning. Hmm.  |
| I wrote it all down, what I would do In this afterlife, formerly hopeful, As if I could dream again In an empty garden. Let’s start From the soul, plant things From a dry brain, drained. I’d learn guitar, sing verses To ignorant trees, Words fly to the pale blue, And dark, forming clouds. I would construct these verses, yearning returning love. Connection is what I lack To the living things, having not Been mindful. In a house I don’t properly take care of, She won’t let me sell. I’d consolidate a collection Of dusty belongings, move To a temporary, transitive residence, Consider a new vehicle And begin a leisurely life of travel On my own Route 66. 6.5ish Edited 6.10.22 Guess I’ll not add, end list. |
| I could devote my life to something. It hands me a cookie. My heart’s not in it, as I chew. What I temporarily savor Does not sate craving. It’s confusing. Am I chasing What I want? Do I need To win a rejecting fire To cool. My oxygen Is it’s hunger. Might feel warm — Get too close, burned. I could save the world Before myself, sacrificing All I ever dreamed, want, Which I tired of chasing. Oh, look! Another cookie. I clutched handfuls in youth. What was I doing, needing The likes of you, rejectors, My tempting confectioners? 5.29.22 Something I started without knowing where I was going, thinking about culture grafting sections of dystopian fiction to f with minds…work, social platforms and other gathering places. When are robots redacting uprisers who haven’t tired like me? Seek but fail at perfection; this will have to do for now. |
| What you call Wounds I call experience That in due time, when you cease bleeding — that Seems to make you rush, Flush with Rage judgment — Hold yourself, if none will Touch, Bar you from loathing Whatever you must, Before you stream down A river of life, bypass every tributary, Every entreating eye brightened By your gleam. Winter Will freeze. Slow, Before clouds claim back Borrowed tears. 5.25.22 6.26.22 major add, edit, out of private, still needing work, trying to turn it into something as if by accident |
why do you make me shine? Beneath this glass, molecules relocating by every twitch, touch I ripple within, disturbed by what I can inhale, ingest, take into my lungs. Something described from your lips as love -- trust that I won’t drown. In a bath for one, dark shrouds, sunrise clouds. Does it go down? Buoyant so long, I dare not dive. Always felt you, and you, and a world at my side, glowing just bright enough to hide. I confide, I waded in, heard pleas, followed dreams of visages of you. Faulty DNA or something got me in a mess I cannot address As the moon rises, gleams an eye, one blue will always be dry. Deeper in the glass, shine, sing your warbled song so strong ears could bleed. Thicken a bath pooled red, where standing in dread realize I was never drowning. Might think I’m clowning. Never more serious, knowing I can leave this hollow pond, find dry wood and in grass, settle down. Luna could vaporize a soul, I imagine. Do we really have time for this now? I’m out of my bath and sober. Have longed to hear a beautiful voice lonely as mine. Why do you make me shine? 6.1.22 6.23.22 edited Am I a romantic trapped in a clown’s makeup. Must be confusing. I know. |
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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)
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Thank you so much for your poem [Link to Book Entry #1026670]! Please don’t ever stop being you, both as a writer and a visionary of love!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Gay_Lesbian-680.gif)
JANUARY 
18
![Merit Badge in Quill Award
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Congratulations on winning Best Medium-Length Poem, Free Verse in the 2021 edition of The Quills!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Award-1375927_6.gif)
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Thank you for your generous donation to [Link To Item #quillhome] ! *^*Quill*^* Every donation is used to celebrate WdC while recognizing quality work and acknowledging community involvement. Kindest Regards, Lilli](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Sponsor-1375927_6.gif)
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Congratulations on winning 1st Place in the September 2022 round of [Link To Item #quotation] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/WDC-Quotation_Inspiration.gif)
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Congratulations on winning day 6 of The Daily Poem Sept 2022!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Artistic-125.gif)
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From [Link To User jayne] : With my apologies for the Redaction Poem prompt mishap. Thank you for taking on the challenge! I hope to see you next time for a redaction-free week of fun at [Link To Item #dailypoem] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Problem_Solving-210.gif)
![Merit Badge in Inspiring Love For Poetry
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Congratulations on being our Honorable Mention in March of 2022 at [Link To Item #2216416] !
Blessings, Sharmelle](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Inspiring_Love_For_Poetry-2259846_14.gif)
![Merit Badge in Action Adventure
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CONGRATULATIONS for [Link To Item #2229211] winning place as an Honourable Mention in [Link To Item #2254385] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Action_Adventure-100.gif)
![Merit Badge in Bard's Hall Blogging Merit Badge
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For placing 3rd in the Bard's Hall Blogging Contest, June 2022](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Bard=s_Hall_Blogging_Merit_Badge-2094227_12.gif){kind=icon}
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Congratulations for winning 1st Place during the April 2022 round of [Link To Item #2268646] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-G_Specials-2271325_14.gif)
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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)
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![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)
