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 |    10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
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I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost | I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me This poet’s words collect, arrange on a kaleidoscope spectrum. The experience of discovery through writing is the truest reward that has allowed me to grow and learn who/what I am — what other people get naturally, immediately, while I stomp around in it. Been blessed, but pushing it — envelope, world and all inhabitants away. Push buttons, find boundaries to trip traps. No clue why cat curiosity, living in your dark. (Bored, perhaps?) Now and then, push dirt out of this hole; someone/thing/entity might envision me how I need to be viewed (if I knew what that was). Cryptic, yes. Try living in my dark, find comfort amid strange, virtual, wonderful walls that tower above, tempt me to scale. Been more than I could imagine or expect here. But, achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall  . I dig deeper than I should, often without forethought. Aimless words, brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit targets? Get a ‘back off’ shoulder shot when asking your motivations here. Not fair?No prize to eye; not incentivized. Dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do best with what’s in hand. My Pluggers: You are an icon here.  You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.  It’s like plugging myself, but using other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "Poetic Referendum(s) On Life"  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 ▼ |
| a pale blue dot, an image from a voyage long ago -- in your galaxy caught departing a planetary neighborhood. from its fringes, I note where you are. one last look, my home planet. you could be a billion light years away. from this vantage, on my ecliptic plane, a portrait of a fading world captured -- caught in the center of scattered light. deflection, I suppose, from bright reduction. a tiny point of light, if you strain to see. home, with everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you've heard of -- every human who ever was lived out their lives where you are -- the aggregate of joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines -- every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, all creators and destroyers of civilization, king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher, corrupt politician, superstar, supreme leader, saint and sinner and followers -- the history of a species lived there -- on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena, challenged by a point of pale light, in the great, enveloping, cosmic dark. In obscurity, in all vastness, no hint help will come from elsewhere to spare pale blue insignificance. this dot spins on axis, fixedly, as if waiting for some deity come down from invisible heavens. a tiny world floating on the perimeter, daring near the center of all creation, functioning to give purpose to anyone who shall pass, miss one so minuscule as a pale blue dot. 43 lines 9.23.21 last two lines hidden because I added for contest and feel foolish now. borrowing a reference and book title from Carl Sagan about beliefs of the existence of God and what man could do to better himself, make this a better place for all who struggle. if it still speaks to me long after I write it, it must be so. |
| You've been fighting the chain so long, wrapped around the pole beneath her whitened load, lingering on a line, low. The tether tightens, restricts desire tarry yards among other leashed mongrels, hungry to meet nostrils between buttercups, belonging to neighbors on porches, rocking on chairs with firearms cocked that dare an underfed, blue-eyed mutt, who'd bite your legs if you dare near. You watch them all, idling through time, wondering if the doghouse would ride along, in unbridled thirst for freedom of the agony: wavering trees un-sniffed, the roses to dig, or puddles to slosh and gleaming wheels unchased. What can an animal like me savor from a vision of all scenes contained in limited purview of a punishing society? Set me free, I'll still bite your hand, before I chew the rest of this scenery hungrily, angrily until the catcher arrives, puts a bullet in the salivating head sneering, daring your wrath justify why I must sit and wait for my bones, ache for that pull of gravity to drive me down between the blades of pissed-on crabgrass. 9.16.21 10.6.21 edit 26 lines, free verse I'm not your animal and I can't wait for a chance to show you how sharp my teeth. Tethered so long, it begs the question: would I humbly lie before one who calls themself my master? |
| My gain of function -- informed by you -- are words that permeate this dense room Experimental with scientific leaning to understanding why a boy could get so hurt by playing amongst you -- innocent, now self-aware, how to take care with a pad, a pen, and a rescuing imagination for diseases sprung from spiteful tongues. Ever learning the cost, no longer feeling lost in this throng, a crowd that swarms a soul navigating, assimilating soon regulating a heart to beat a bit slower, to get to the end and exit this room with just a shred of dignity. 9.9.21 Something I made up, now that I understand the meaning of 'Gain Of Function' which really seems vague. As staunch as a stone in a moss-covered quarry, will anyone roll on their position if it's proved Dr. Fauci lied to Congress, lied to the world? Or, does he have an excuse from someone higher up? How many licks to get to the center of this Coronavirus lollipop? The world may never know. The poem was about me and not about Covid, just liked that scientific method as a metaphor about assumptions about how people apply their science to one who would dare rub elbows with the rest of the world, hoping to fit in. It could relate to how Jayne feels about those lame birthday wishes. Sorry I didn't send one, because I would try to make it meaningful, for what it's worth. |
 Why does it feel the last minutes in this long loping freedom I stride are the unaccompanied moments spared without you by my side? Why is this purgatory for one who wishes every moment of every hour be in your arms, two singing, yet the empty soul is being devoured? My eyes long for a vision to materialize in this vexing freedom I abide. I consume life with lust in this emptiness until the hour you re-arrive. Why must every moment we're together make me realize slow death nears, as you gently whisper your nothings into unrelenting, unnerved ugly ears? 9.6.21 breathe life into me, Sarah: |
কবিঃ আয়াস কবিতাঃ গীতসম্ভার (১) যা কিছু ঘটিবে তোমার জীবন তরে স্রষ্টার উপর আস্থা রেখো থাকবে তুমি ধৈর্য্য ধরে। নিরাশ হয়ে কখনও কভু দোষারোপ তাই করোনা হয় তো স্রষ্টা ভালো কিছু রাখিয়াছে কিন্ত নয় তোমার জানা। আমরা যাহা দেখি নয়নে হয় তো সেটি সত্য ভেবে আঁধারের পর আলো আসে জানিও তা তোমরা তবে। স্রষ্টার লীলা পারিবেনা বুঝিতে তোমার ও তাই ক্ষুদ্র জ্ঞানে বিন্দু হয়ে সিন্দুর খবর জানিবে তা কেমনে। ঝড় হয়ে আসিবে বিপদের ঘনঘটা তব তোমার চারিদিকে উদ্ধার পাবে নিশ্চিত জানিও তুমি সেখান থেকে কেবল ধৈর্য্য ধরে থাকো চেয়ে একমাত্র স্রষ্টার দিকে। 9.6.21 What? You don't know. |
He took aim at me with piercing blue, surfacing beneath a wrinkled scowl penetrating the core my timid humanity. His admonishing words, deftly crafted to scram! beat it! struck as arrows do, in a small child heart. Get out of my yard lifelong bellowed, by he, master of a manicured lawn with bright peonies as high as my eye. From daffodil trumpets in Spring to shady, symmetrical maples clumping gutters with a clutter: orange, yellow, brown, but especially purple, like my bruised ego where I wandered wanting to sample with greed a handful of flowery perfection beneath a wide window. When he died, so too his craft. Trees toppled, perfection excavated for the gleam of a bright swimming pool, now clumping from unrelenting Autumn irony. 9.5.21/ 9.24.21 edit 10.1.22 edit 19 lines Written for a Fistful of Nothing |
| What possesses me? I’m bothered by information flowing through me from room to room. No filter, nothing to deflect as it seeps through pores of thin flesh and into veins navigating avenues to ventricles of my heart that fuels an empty soul. These particles that fly through the air, a swarm. They are never ending, and insisting that they possess my impulses, as I hold tight to something, like you. That I should open my eyes and illuminate the world, that I should genuflect. This body isn’t the host, doesn’t need possession. But wants to ask, how did you know the lonely so well, would unwittingly open the door on the pretense I’d let you in? 9.3.21 I decided I like this. Usually dislike what I write. But only because of what it expresses, because it lacks what most pursue as poetry with clever devices to convey. This is more lyrical, straightforward, having a song's quality. Though, it is just the bridge. No chorus or repeated words needed. It is about feeling manipulated and confronting the abuser with wonder. |
| I would die with you now, alone. You throw your golden hair through this shared space. Me, incapacitated, cannot fully glance in my immunocompromised state -- that you couldn't possibly know how little I have left to live. But, I drink in your bared, sun-glorified skin -- hold tightly to a vision: the torso and one strong hand to lead, locked in our tango stance, dreaming dip, dip, dip me! from red lips. Our love echoes through unlit hours, before my frost finally arrives. And even if I didn't know I was dying, I would lie with you in your deathbed, enwrapped in my arms, synchronizing two hearts linked to the coming disaster -- that beauty in this life never lasts, but fades and crumbles into the dust that raises up another. In my chronic chair of conformity, I peek as those tresses fall to meet the arched back, black-tight leotard easily revealing form I long lock adjacent to a wretched husk of humanity, the withering, expiring skin, to lock eyes throughout each night and every dawn, sung by a throng of worshippers, who had a fraction of what we could have had, if not divided by a generational tide. And ignorance that an old man can still appreciate a figure publicly displayed, re-inspiring utopian dreams that could never materialize, or conceivably form because we're all dying, honey, and you should know that. Don't live like you're dead, like me, but don't hate me because you're beautiful. 9.3/26.21 Reconsidered to make edits. One last look later. sort of a response poem "⭐ Elegy" |
| I learned about back-handed compliments from my sister-in-law when I was 18 and have never taken offense to them. While she thought she was being clever, it was low-brow in my objective estimation. In fact, I'm complimented that someone would take the time the needle me or shove something in my back. I can't die from something I pay no attention to, except be bemused by their pettiness. It's unfortunate that some people are wired that way. When they do it with a purpose, I wonder their end game. I am vigilant. I can riff off of it. I have other things that take up this space between my ears. By the way, it wasn't with a candlestick in the study or anything. What? |
| To say: I didn't know I was starving until I tasted you says to me you've cultivated an addiction to something Sure, I like sweet candy Give me chocolate make it ice cream with an accoutrement of devilish incorporating flavors manufactured by factories that produce jobs, profits and diabetes if you don't watch out If we can't get enough of something, shouldn't we walk away, try something else try moderation, lest we cash-fuel these desires rationalize because people need work to pay for their own vices Have you tried liquor? It's quicker. 8.29.21 Get fat and die, you ignorant bastard! No, that was a wake up call. Set it to something more pleasant, smooth and tasty, while sugar makes you it's bitch. Blech! Diet cola? We need a fix. I'll probably die of gum disease like Jim Henson, ironically. |
| Battle my own hurricanes and floods daily. But none claim to see them because life is a sunny day on their side from that sunny perspective. Lilies leap from lions' mouths. Weeds wither within the octopus' grasp in calm green and good brown wood, damped by light rain. Lingering leaves take a tumble, dry and crumble like me, matted to the side of this edifice. Wonder how long before someone notices I'm stuck to the stucco for years. Might not be catastrophes to you. But if you bend low, look into deep recesses, a weathered one is clinging desperately. And with two fingers, could spare me in this dehydrating, lingering season. 8.29.21 Think about others? Hmm. While I'm stuck here? Might result in freeing tears. Though, I wonder why I would weep alone when none weep for me? Not bitter. Confused how we need to visualize one another's storms to prove we are worthy of acceptance like love before dying. I can re-attune when I have time to stomach all I consume that abounds. Spare me pity like the tar re-applying me to this house I'm affixed. That dude has a bad attitude, because...? I think I'd make a good agnostic, if I didn't believe, ironically, in that approach. I would never take away from others what they feel as sorrow or happiness. I would, however, like to educate the ignorant to openly listen, if their emotions would allow objectivity. The pretty colors of the paint applied might be bright, but the image is a dour depiction of a condition we all live with but some choose to ignore in favor of pastels. Maybe, my opinion is not fully (in)formed. Still working on that. I might run out of time. There's always the prescription pads and ink to fill pens with signatories and pharmacies to complete our transactions, to enlighten or desensitize as needed these conditions that inform our emotions. Why do I bother to write? I'm tunneling through darkness for hints of light. My eyes tell me misdirect and I dive deep again, time after time. |
| He crushed my heart with a rock on our hot sidewalk when I was too young to withhold every ounce of my love seeping into those cracks to live with the ants, grubs and earthworms who returned season after season to show me renewal was possible. But that heavy purge was real as I linger in the sunny places drained, ready to turn heel when stones or sticks could be flung. I wish I had the courage to overcome hatred from the misunderstood young. Pelt me, if you must. I'll try not let this purulent blood run. 8.28.21 Thinking about the first cut is the deepest, while writing to song. |
| Another Season I'm going to witness In my windowed sideline The aging season, Feel the breath leave this air, Regret another summer Poorly devised, not executed, The dread of packing it in. To do, to do, to do, Undone. Like a Poe mortician, Seal off duties unfinished, Consume a cask of something, Brick myself in this dank place, Close those walls up. Beauty missed, lest I run amok spying all That I can take in -- Some quest to drink youth dying, Fill my eyes, fill my head In a bucket with scrawled list. Do this, do that, do all Before the dawn arrives, Or bury me with a pile. Though, I won't be whisked off, Merrily tumbling on invisible tides, But guttered to the corner, By the intersection Where I'm stuck hoping Some poignant serendipity Spares me from regret of yet Another season wasted. Now come over here and cover me white so I can sleep another endless night. 8.28.21 Nothing could prepare me but a mirror to the past and what good is that? |
| Time Running Out (Self-Applied Ageism) There's this feeling I should face the mirror, accept my lot -- wasted. (Whenever I have passionate feelings like young love) I desire to reveal hidden in this failing structure, flowing words...but that river runs out with a flick. Dim light glows above the vanity, won't lie (anymore) to caverned eyes scanning and perceiving the unwanted, disheveled, unrepairable, long face. Running it back: Time Running Out Like Ageism There's this feeling I should face the mirror, accept my lot in life -- that I wasted it. (Whenever I have passionate feelings akin to a young lover that I want to reveal in structured, yet flowing words...but that river runs out with a flick, dim light glows (douses daydreams) above the vanity, won't lie to caverned eyes scanning and perceiving the disheveled, unrepairable, long face.) Revisit: Dated. Living with flames from my past, in this stove burning hotter, more intense, destroying the flippant molecules collecting in thinning air surrounding a house soon to become cinder, when it should ignite with the kerosene it lacks. I can't be a lantern. Words echo memories of reflections of the little fireflies and moths that lingered before the grave, shallow image appeared in a dull mirror to haunt me daily after I wake. Guess, I'm getting up to clutch sharpened graphite. 8.28.21 Perfect specimen inside a walking corpse with love to unveil. |
| sunny wisdom seeps between hairy branches coming into focus through this smeary glass dull day oozing through crusty images obstructed view thick heat rises up from glistening green having received nature's early donations a disheartening vision scanning across a dry intersection focus on their cottages divided, quiet as yet when will we all wake up to greet another unremarkable day on this street with similar views out windows and wonder how to waste yet another day in lonely captivity? 8.24.21 i must care about writing again, because I'm adding punctuation (one way to gauge my mood)...but not add a line count because I don't care to prepare these words for judges now, or anymore (but Brian, how will your community recognition total ever climb? )got to stop writing to music videos and get ready for another day of toil (reality)...not what the judges want to hear...next... |
| I'm just going to go with this thought: I'm like that monster that doesn't know it's a monster until it gets a hint from the view in other's eyes. If they're not running from his countenance, they're hurling rocks, prepared to fight with a fire he doesn't bring. This man without a true mirror, who just feels, then acts, with his heart, stands alone in your cobblestone streets longing. Are there scars upon my face that I cannot see, or do I ignore what is as plain as the cliché appendage? Your fires reflect in these dull pupils. Your heat singes tender skin, blistered and ravaged by wounds of words I neglectfully cast, come back. Wounded in your town square, surrounded by visions of you not there, I sit upon the fountain's edge yearning the knowledge to understand why am I a monster, again? 8.24.21 What's more crude than a monster, those who would apply labels? That was too easy. Wrote in less than half the blogged song's time (longer to edit). Godless, again. Thanks Dandy's... |
| The red Yeti fumbled, tumbled, sprung from the headboard, releasing a gusher from its top. Pepsi and spiced rum spewed a geyser in free fall into a steam punk hat laying atop the stove top Abe Lincoln lid on the carpet beside his nightstand. He longed for a refill more than a rag and detergent to scrub the scene of wasted inspirant, concocted earlier above the kitchen sink in dim, happy fluorescence. 8.21/22.22 Completely random and separate: &?@!#%&! Programmers And Random-nality Explained (Computers Cheat At Cards!) -- The computer’s skill level was determined by giving itself better hands than its human opponent. I apparently made up inspirant and wanted to include aspirant, though it will take a revisit to consider this. |
| Can I build a metaphor for box springs? You lay it on the frame to receive the burden of comfort, mattress your master lays upon, pillow talks with. The grunt beneath speaks with dust bunnies, asks the child’s monsters be reasonable, covets the forgotten, lost troves daily unwitnessed, tucked away until the dread loneliness of cleaning day and a mattress flip. The dark and lonely domain is an underworld of under-appreciated castoffs from Eden by a cruel god who will hear no complaining of the strength it takes to hold all and receive no love stuck, devoted as each mattress sags, replaced for one more ample to get through the long nights. 8.22.21 maybe not while personified, drawing parallels to personal experience, akin to the doormat |
| Write To This When I can't self-subscribe I dive into a world not my own to imagine myself in this space Walk away from that race When I can't get a handle into a life that doesn't jibe I visualize an aura glowing where my words get flowing Why won't they realize my eyes hold dreams they'll want to see to imagine a space together walk away from this forever What will it take to get comfortable in this happy, shiny bubble? Your grooves where I try fit where I want to get lit? Your song fades away... this pale look on my face... 8.20.21 just something I wrote on the fly... Track two? |
| All the beautiful words collected in your basket, off you journey, handing fistfuls of glory to an elderly man in the park, partaking in final Autumn, to a child mastering chalk lines on cracked pavement, to a young couple nuzzling beneath a spying oak, to Earth, scattered on a dutiful, green lawn we all walk upon, wondering the meaning of all this. The sun glares down where the girl spills her own life beneath murksome reeds edging a film-green pond. The basket tumbles down the hill to meet my hand, trying to understand life's cruelty. Explain, why am I alone in this final Autumn. 8.17.21 10.1.22 edit written to Godless by The Dandy Warhols |
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— 21
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— 29![Merit Badge in Shadows and Light
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A huge congratulations, to you!
You have won a very deserved Honourable Mention in [Link To Item #shadows] , round 112 *^*Smile*^*
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Shadows_and_Light-1936078_14.gif)
![Merit Badge in Shadows & Light II
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Brian,
Congratulations! You won 1st Place in [Link To Item #shadows] with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1037176]. Fabulous writing!
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Shadows_=38_Light_II-1936078_14.gif)
— 9
MAY 
37![Merit Badge in Coffee Award
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Congratulations on placing 2nd in [Link To Item #2182602] with your poem, [Link to Book Entry #1031722]. *^*Coffeeo*^* Kindest Regards, Lilli](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Coffee_Award-2149524_14.gif)
APRIL 
![Merit Badge in Humorous Poetry Contest
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Congratulations on the third place win at [Link To Item #hpc] for your poem: [Link to Book Entry #1030482]. Thanks for making me laugh, and keep writing the funny stuff! *^*Bigsmile*^* ~Lornda A.K.A. The Queen of Comedy *^*Crown*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Humorous_Poetry_Contest-1875103_14.gif)
MARCH 
![Merit Badge in Contests
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CONGRATULATIONS for winning 2nd place in [Link To Item #2254385] !!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Contests-235.gif)
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Thank you for your participation in the 48-HOUR CHALLENGE: " Thank You by Dido ." Media Prompt hosted by [Link To User support] March 2022! We appreciate that you tackled this challenge... *^*Smile*^* *^*Thumbsupl*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/WDC-WDC_Media_Prompt.gif)
![Merit Badge in Good Things Take Time
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Here's to a world where we wouldn't have to keep reciting the words woven in your excellent poem [Link to Book Entry #1027990].](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Good_Things_Take_Time.gif)
![Merit Badge in Gay Lesbian
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Thank you so much for your poem [Link to Book Entry #1026670]! Please don’t ever stop being you, both as a writer and a visionary of love!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Gay_Lesbian-680.gif)
JANUARY 
18
![Merit Badge in Quill Award
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Congratulations on winning Best Medium-Length Poem, Free Verse in the 2021 edition of The Quills!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Award-1375927_6.gif)
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Thank you for your generous donation to [Link To Item #quillhome] ! *^*Quill*^* Every donation is used to celebrate WdC while recognizing quality work and acknowledging community involvement. Kindest Regards, Lilli](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Sponsor-1375927_6.gif)
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Congratulations on winning 1st Place in the September 2022 round of [Link To Item #quotation] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/WDC-Quotation_Inspiration.gif)
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Congratulations on winning day 6 of The Daily Poem Sept 2022!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Artistic-125.gif)
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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)
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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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![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)
