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 |    10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
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Like one of those adventure games where you go off questing in different directions but you don’t advance like the others. You earn pretty medallions gallantly while other players buy, sell and trade at market to get ahead without moving an inch. Slow burn…hey? You’d rather keep your dignity, or try to figure out their game. That’s where you really get lost. Game full of misdirects leads right back to start over and over. You could have stayed on your quest. Now, you have this. Redacted, censored, gaslighted…must be doing something right, my old boss would say. I’m not a sociopath, he tells himself. Equal parts, then? Mom should have had me tested. Because, life of turmoil produces stuff like this. Not going to call it beautiful agony…it gets a bit ugly.Tap on them. It’s part of the quest…see where I’ve been; see who I am:                     Right. I redact myself. The beautiful mess you made. Who are you? If I’ve been denied the right of knowledge, I’ve earned the right to judge. | Without knowledge, who’s to judge? | No gavel; no voice. "...politely reedy but ambitiously eclectic—moving effortlessly from hen-picking and bottleneck slides to a full deck of chucka-chucka rhythm figures." I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost | I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. *Neurodivergent poet. *Don’t judge/hate. I love. *Honesty without mincing words. *Dump your prejudice outside my door. Hope you leave it on the way out. *Nothing to fear but people who surround themselves with rules, can’t be touched. *Real dialogue accepted. My words collect, arrange on a kaleidoscope spectrum. The true experience/acknowledgment of my writing yet to come...long after I’ve left WDC, am dead, or both. Truly been a blessing, but I've been pushing it — envelope, push world and all inhabitants away, push buttons to find boundaries, having no clue or told where they lie, where I've lived in your dark. Now and then, push dirt out of this hole; someone/thing/entity might envision me the way I need to be viewed. (if I knew what that was. Cryptic, I know. Try living in my dark, find comfort amid the strange, virtual walls that tempt me to try). *The parenthetical lawyer up? Foot free, I’m all over the place. Best Poetry Collection 2X, nominated three years. What does it mean? I was enjoying myself, head bagged. A happy idiot. Something messed with that. I won’t be a coward; not starting feuds or wars over ideals and beliefs. We all know that’s a pile of crap packaged with dreams of pretty things to sell the next boob that walks by.  Been more than I could imagine or expect. My achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall. But, I get it. You're sick of me. It's how I feel about myself when I dig deeper, push boundaries. Don’t care my words that aim for honesty, either brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit a target. Get a back off shoulder shot for asking your motivations to write…won’t get me to bend over backwards to appease, again. There’s no prize to eye, not properly incentivized. So, does it mean when dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do the best with what you got? Yeah, rigged. Yeah, other tables — other ‘games’. But, something in my gut I’ll never be rid. My Pluggers: You are an icon here.  You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.{/blue}  It’s like plugging myself, but using other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋"  Your poetic muse is on fire!  Some great emotion, well-balance(d), lovely lyrical qualities -- even the ones that were written out of sadness or anger came through in a clever cadence…It's obvious you've put a lot of work into each entry and the totality of the blog has eye appeal.  Published four times with one a literary journal, including…  "The Tender Core (Sedona)"  I don’t submit because it’s too much work. Truly alone, know no one cares to show they believe/support me. Lip service feeds delusion. I’ve seen a lot of smoldering and snow. Try not be cynical, work hard at openness and consideration — work, sooo…gut thing.   ![Merit Badge in Taboo Words
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Brian,
Congratulations! You won 1st Place in Taboo Words with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1027659].
I absolutely loved this! *^*Heart*^*
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Taboo_Words-2139481_13.gif) ![Merit Badge in Poetry
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Thanks you for supporting the [Link To Item #power] with an order to the [Link To Item #powergifts] ! We appreciate it. *^*Heartv*^* Keep writing the beautiful poetry. [Link to Book Entry #1027659] is an awesome poem! *^*Starv*^* ~Lornda](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/type-Poetry-2180.gif) August 28, 2006 this blog opened ▼
No specific aim going forward (2014) ▼  Now: I was such a whore.  This is old….What? Oh, this? A rhetorical, self-motivational speech I'm working on. Don't just read the parts to construct your theory, as if to confirm (construed out of context) your opinion, mentally-stunted Neanderthal. Therapist wants me to be less negative toward myself. I see it as attacking, rather than being defensive. Fear I will chomp too many bullets unintentionally sent toward the unsuspecting. If you can be triggered for stupid reasons, then I? …just looked like me rolling around on the floor with myself.  What Was NEW Who am I, you ask? My mirror knows that question, repeated daily. Just trying to create a little buzz, not boost my ego.  #amwriting #poetry #blog #contest #freeverse #award #bestpoetry #freyaridings #lyrics #music #video #YouTube Can you believe it took this long for someone to put a quarter in me and push the button GET ANGRY? Mud 4 My Eye:  Is that you, Poo? 💩 Secret Back Door ▼ |
What’s On These Sleeves? Red ruins, left to stain Where I balance my little friend, A mute parrot vocalizing, singing For your interest on a satin cuff. I sought a dry cleaner after I upset my tailor. What do I know about these things — How to treat garments? Cartilage worn down from years anchoring Worn denim on any ground, Greeted only by your frown. Grass stains treated, go away Finally, when the fabric frays. A boy in short pants dares Scrape the tender, bruised skin. Colors that paint glowing nature — Dull, stark reminders in a wash. Fluorescence buzzes in solitude As poorly matched blends wash. Pink as my tender flesh, mistreated Coverings emerge, further shrink The soggy lot in a hot drum spinning, Loft, drop, lift fall like the rotting heart. Mistreated? Yes, I know. Don’t blame you, but me. A boy wandering, could wonder Why dress like your clown? coda...not really ▼ 4.28.23 Not bitter. Cautious, since 2006. Tired of me, lame excuses, and insane need (culling) to be even more open. I gave what I can, but can’t get off the donor list of vampires. Open a coffin, I hop right in. Still no stake, just garlic and a taste of Holy water. |
| It Flew Into The Bay Window Winging my way through the world today I saw the sky in your eye But there was no passage through Your blunt force Knocked something like sense into my head You’re an illusion I want to fly through Moth after your flame now lies in red mulch Poorly disguised creature, motionless, Reflects below its deflector With mechanical groan, you appear, near This stunned spirit, becalmed, Chest heaving. No resistance, but I fear You believe this a sign, willing trust, A bond with my nature To the owner of thick glass mirroring clouds, Hopeful sunrises, another world is hiding Where you kneel, a miracle heals And a heart raises up with strength to lift to heaven Back to a blue we will never view together Peaceful coexistence exists In the mind of the keeper of my retaining wall. 4.27.23 Potential response poem, link coming… |
| The widening fontanelle I cover with a cap meager two-ply for internal workings I expose publicly like an animal without clothes but wild hides from potential prey that doesn’t understand why not trusted, without quest for comprehension (If you could near without ambush), or, unclothed because a babe seen as an aging man with no decorum to properly attire, refuses tensile to top a pate with wire hair graying, so the cap — shadow a thin ghost shackled to experience and belief the earth spins backwards but does not erase elapsed time broken like Pangea exposed in murky depths to recall a tender, trusting child before the first branch fell fashioned as switch yes, tender and exposed and, life has been like that. who to trust to the skull? 4.22.23 (edit later) My nephew who was a ‘specialist’ in Iraq reminds me I have a soft head, indirectly, by covertly showing me his knowledge, not realizing what he doesn’t say speaks louder than words, I’ve observed. Thanks Tony Edits to incorporate: The Fontanelle The poem "The Fontanelle" presents an intriguing exploration of vulnerability and aging. However, some passages could benefit from clarification to enhance the reader's understanding. Here are suggested edits: I conceal the widening fontanelle Beneath a meager two-ply cap, Revealing my inner workings openly, Like a vulnerable creature unclothed, Yet, I remain elusive, Hiding from potential threats That fail to comprehend why I withhold trust, Without seeking understanding. (If you could approach without threat), Unclothed like an infant, Perceived as an aging man Lacking the decorum of proper attire, I resist the tensile embrace of a cap, My wiry hair graying. So the cap becomes a shadow, A fragile specter bound to experience and belief. The earth may spin in reverse, But it cannot erase the passage of time, Fragmented like Pangea, Exposed in murky depths, I reminisce about a tender, trusting child Before the first branch became a switch, Yes, tender and exposed. And life has been like that. Whom can I trust with the skull? better title choice depends on central theme or message. a title that reflects vulnerability, aging, and trust, maybe, Fragile Veil or The Unveiled Self. |
| (and away from you) My coffee comes out hot needs the inspired container not eagerly chugged cupped in two hands needing warmth for mindfulness in an arena sparked by arrival perfect meditation when two lips anchor the brim face steamed senses sip and savor brown flowage passing a heart, vital and the awareness of the vessel’s capacity proper drainage at opportune intervals wisdom to ingest nearing the plumbed depth with just enough draught before cold the best moments perfectly plotted go as well as you could hope on any given day make morning memory I held you you warmed me I savored you intertwining destined, famed, over, when I pull the sweetest, last moments flow through knowing — you, I could never clutch contain close to my heart but for a few patent moments... life better...remember honor you this way every morning until the bottom, up. 4.22.23 We hold on to perfect memory knowing it fades or comes to an end without habitually repeating It eventually leads to knowing the agony of brevity, how hard savoring the shortness of these love lives when passion perpetually consumed is not enough, but with mindfulness make the most of it, before honoring what’s dead, long past consumed. Catalysts are bursts, not meant for perpetual motion. It’s what you do after you’ve been given a shove toward a direction - did you plot that course, can you decide where to go? Or do you stand near and igniter hoping it will blow you up? Decide all by aftermath’s fate. I don’t know who decides. If I say more… I have one week and a few days to decide…something Cryptic, yeah, I know. How dare I be so cloaked and dramatic? I thought the SAME thing…before u. What right do I have to insinuate myself into anyone’s life? I can’t even be a loner on the internet…but at a safe distance. |
My Death Will Bloom (one day) You knew I was a corpse Stabbed me anyway A craving for blood went unsated You walked away My open eyes viewed it all No voice to call No reason to vibrate From the flat ground I spell my words in dirt That sing in their own way I forgave my killers I can forgive you My markings here, unread My love, I dread Is for no one but myself Cradled in dirt you call filth I don’t see it that way No eyes anyway As I recompose in earth Mating with wayward seeds That shall bloom one day. 4.16.23 |
| Response Poem: "That Sound (Breathless Poetry Series)" It takes more effort not to notice... Above a rising meadow, Monarch's wings float. Bumbles bounce on slow-reacting necks sprouting, serenading a spectrum of wild color on the edge of towering pine. Nature still calls me, as early birds flee gray eyes, flit from bough to branch to pale sky. ...I've noticed. Your eyes beguile only yourself. Sense acutely inhales sweet bounty of aroma, reward memory of true childhood in visions of her tight rei(g)n of a small hand lead through joy she selflessly shared. Memory fails her, when you beguile yourself without adding the sound of tossed leaves on jittered, jutted branches swaying. Each unique call invites the small ears, recall those trails to streams Spring-surging through wood to heart of true childhood. If you'll notice... If you can hear, smell, when you can't taste, feel or see anymore, up close, life you had, life she brought, sent when she passed through the grass, boughs and spiraling leaves, above Monarchs, higher, a calling no winging bird could ever hear. Into a vapor, clouds roaming in blue, dying hue deep-bluing, eyes blur that vault a child's outstretched, empty hand could never reach -- lifelong could never recapture, as a wandering soul's guide. 4.16.23 thoughts scatter ▼ I'm no author, poet or writer but an idle mind with too much time to build, tear down, construct and ruin, a life that taught him shame, guilt, manipulation, pity and maudlin sympathy, but not (true) love...but to seek it as some reward that never comes like the promises of 'maybe, tomorrow'. |
you remind after you speak response not necessary words imply meant for ears to receive information entertained retained never be inferred never echo back newly translated something loses in that relay shadows fall flat on the face of an angel that does not smile back does not smile down upon me with love's light you remind after this life responses not necessary words I employ implore ears to receive information unnecessary aimless echo back only in my reimagination of you, me and what could be if I could just find an avenue to your heart to the center of your beautiful mind roll up the sleeves fight for you? Where is my reason to try? Tired Tongue no longer hefts volumes of re-imagined tomes of Anglo-saxonized unharmonized words transcribed, redescribed to an indifferent one who steals sun for their own light beams down to any that will surround a fool in shelter seeks the underground seeks time to consider purpose, love, your words and wonder where you are that you employ speech and say nothing at all but what someone apparently needs to hear and about the self worth of souls seeking salve and made you their master How threatening it must be to lose a follower to one who has so few what it must mean to know another will come along building my mounds with words on your shore crash your words tides tall that rush in rush out and take out entire towns of sentences paragraphs of novels forming to appease the sun the villagers must feel helpless not like ants already rebuilding beneath a cloudless sky for their master, sun the others unworthy move away, move to brick and mortar structures of the mind and look back and wonder about the very heart of one, for one instant, never reconsider he builds stronger, better and faster with each thought that does not appease master and know now he builds the right way builds for them builds monuments he can pride in and all because of you who won't get due when one day... oh, yes one day it all crumbles an avalanches of sticks, grass and limestone washed out to the tides of time bankrolled dreams sink in sand deep under hearts flourish some fill with wonder others break dreamer's suicide will not confide to those indifferent few who use it as fuel to kill again and again to build monuments of flesh unto themselves. 4.14.23 |
| A Cannibal Murdered Breakfast A boiled egg i carefully peeled this morning, flesh wasn’t easy to fully preserve, looked as if it had a face — two eyes, perfectly placed, but one yellow, the other a blind crater and shocked, sinkhole mouth, hung open below in naked, Humpty Dumpty form. Hard yoke exposed a cork, frozen expression, knowing my mission, as the shaker lightly salted open wounds on the oval surface — a front row to an unhinged, toothy craw, before black, when I went Dahmer on it. 4.12.23 |
| I’m reserving this space. It’s for the poems I’m reading at the Public Radio studio in Marquette, Mi. I’m visiting the campus where I got my degree and won three broadcasting awards for my work in journalism. As a part of National Poetry Month, another group I’m involved with is having poets read their poetry to be broadcast throughout the month. One of the poems I’m reading: "The Tender Core (Sedona)" Hopefully, I’ll link as YouTube videos. Something I’ve dragged my feet on for sometime, as I’m building an audio/visual broadcast/recording room in my home. 4.11.23 I’m off in an hour to finish my journey for production at noon. Hopefully, I can do it without assistance. Equipment is much more sophisticated, digitized now. |
| Tens of Tens for a special Tenth Count those piggies on your feet that glisten. (That’s 1) All digits lent to hands lift from the pool, now listen. (Up to 2) Been a decade since your first October, I frighten. (Add 2 more) Hamiltons from your aunts in cards does enlighten. (Now, it’s 5) In my day, a dime thrilled, even if ill-gotten. (Six!) I bought orange push-ups as my teeth did rotten. This joyous day at the alley we hope pins flatten, (snuck in 7) and you bowl the first strike in those green and red patten. (And, 8…) Sign overhead flashes red like a Roman numeral ten. (Bam, 10!!) What? You think I’d leave the tenth line, unwritten? (Add 1 for good measure), don’t expect I’ll do this again…until you are 11. 4.10.23 |
Some contests don't deliver on reviews and/or prizes. I do. Suck on that.
Listen, I'm willing to give back. I'm going to recognize motivated, as well as, talented writes. This is the second month in a row I dragged the contest into the community (public) arena. I appear to have committed again to host a contest in May. Would like to build the Red Wheelbarrow membership base. But, if that isn't happening, the group won't dialogue in forum, have open discussions about free verse poetry. If I knew this contest/group was going nowhere while putting in the work, I'd pull up the reins right now. I'm going against the notion to fundraise to bankroll. I will bring trhe money to the table if it would mean networking with others who want to interact and push the envelope. We can take free verse/poetry to new places. I have my own writing to consider, in other words. And, it doesn't have to be judged or responded to anymore. I know what I want to say and I'm going to start saying it. That will mean scraping a few things off my plate. Brian 4.9.23 ADDENDUM: Not to sound like I’m holding anyone hostage, but I gushed about making my own merit badge once, then committed to it (procrastination, perfectionism, first timer), resurrected forum, contests, and gushed about making a ribbon, process starts over, and old patterns re-emerge. People around here can do it, get participation. I’m no P.T. Barnum, or Bailey, but an idealist who is impulsive, disorganized and motivated by a fire in an ignorant belly. It’s like starting a campfire, black, sooty smoke pours out, dies out, and you keep feeding it until it’s hot enough to burn on its own. I’m choking on the fumes most days. The people I could count on seem distant. I don’t ask for help, not feeling a part of anything at this moment. So, if it’s fold up, then it shall be. But, always have this on the back burner because there are more than enough resources to keep it burning. Must have forgot to pay gas/electric bill. Metaphor breaks. Thank to the people who have been kind and true. Like truth, knowing where I stand. When I can’t ask, I poke animals until I know here the lions, tigers and bears are. Oh, my. I ain’t afraid of no ghost. Breaks metaphor on purpose. |
| a revised version already exists in my private collection: sentience/in/humanity asomatous and corporeal within bathroom tile seeped thoughts a sentient boy writing odes to the dead, the living, on walls to any who would hear one so disconnected and alive he had to believe, follow passion consciously but there were detractors: wolves amid sheep as sheep who daily fleeced his dreams faith and trust lost in humanity in a paneled bedroom walled by his father insulation, a stereo and headphones transported a fractured soul floating toward immortality. Visions in darkest nights he eventually drifted to sleep by three. His eyes now open each morning visualize energy revitalized all around he just had to close those lids isolate in his ever wood surround with towering pine reminders on a cavern floor, a code for his world had been without order. Without, not within. And in nature, dreams re-inspired all the more. Crackle fire, wisp camp smoke, stars slot in a canopy of dead-less night. Inside his mind amid the world -- a mindful soul balanced, wandering, no longer retreating from freedom. 4.7.23 a bit sentimental and environmental in the soft head of a soft wood (let there never be another 'software' update SYNONYMS FOR asomatous (that my "old" computer wants to auto-correct) nonmaterial aerial airy apparitional celestial disembodied dreamy ethereal ghostly metaphysical psychic shadowy spectral spiritual subjective supernatural unearthly unworldly wraithlike to name a few that are comparable in this usage |
| anxiety sight fleeting love sound crashing heart smell powdery perfume taste cherry lipstick touch goosebumps when we first touched anxiety trembles leaves in dappled maples shakes autumn branches rot leaves mulch under pine sleet wets my chilled lips peels bark on my childhood tree 15 words specific place linking words shed backyard butterflies burst like explosions bread for our conversation by the bench by the shed beneath the pine slender roots grinning mulberry by the bush butterflies burst bread for our conversation on the bend by the shed beneath towering pine grinning shade on slender roots carport in the carport they wheeled spun around in divergent paths away and toward us as we smiled at bursts invisible motion like wind contained garden rutabagas clumped in soil spread tethered in soft spaces digging holes deep dark greet the aphids and worms grin when pulled skyward Paris Explosions heard invisible bursts send bells clang clunk a clutter of trash swept like butterflies cartwheeling through slender whispered conversation Bakery slender sagged sough saddened on sheets shoved in stoves ovens rags swiped counters tears explosions of yeast emerge mighty bread Ignorant dynamite there were bells in the explosions who detonated that beautiful dynamite? You did, you fool But I didn't intend to hurt anyone Then youre as ignorant as you look I'm the cover of a book and different, don't behave like you then there is no hope for you my head blew, gun powder grit lined my molars Attic in the attic of life, a cave an echo, echoes echoing off an aging structure blown in insulation hides asbestos hides the cancer of memories spelunking above a two bedroom home below the roof I helped him replace when I was twelve shingles hinge to my brain, tear, spin, nails loose walked from the apple tree the winter snow drifted to its low braches and i dove and dove and dove and froze from snow melt an ice boy who thawed by the tv with chicken noodle soup hot chocolate. |
| In the attic of sentience, a cave, an echo, echoes echoing, angling off an aging structure. Blown in insulation wall pocketed asbestos -- hidden cancer of memories spelunked, relived, regretful adventures beneath beams of a two bed home. Below the roof he sent stalactite nails through 2x4s -- scarred my wandering head. I hauled tarred replacements in brown packages up aluminum rungs at twelve, witnessed handiness as he laid each one down. Shingles hinge to my brain, tear, spin -- nails loosen where I walked from access of the wintering apple, snow drift to lowest limbs. Clambered over soffits, gutters, onto a snowy peak in 30-pounds of gear and dove and dove and dove. White-packed boots and sock froze from melt, could not numb dumb joy. An ice boy thawed by the tv with her steel Currier & Ives sleigh theme tray. Endless canned stock swam in white glass, a sunny fat broth. White caps bobbed, capsized in mugged hot chocolate. The best sleep, and dreams, I would ever have. 4.6.23 48 lines, free verse produced from Zoom writer's group instructional seminar, tonight. What might seem clear are my sentences. What might not be clear is what those sentences attempt to say. I’m a poet following a trail of breadcrumbs back through life and making assumptions where I was diverted. Not clear how to walk it back. So, I write and write and write like the little boy diving from his roof. |
| I can take every thing I've ever written and throw it in the trash...right now. And, start over. A new era has dawned. It's that meaningless; though, historically significant, as I move forth with waged words encrypted, easily solvable, but not loveable...to the likes of who? Oh, your friends. Sorry. Does that mean I am an enemy? No. I've devised meaning within the subcultures of a much larger construct, incentivizing parties within to war with one another, or just play nice, with their words. PC, you know? Slowly, being redacted. Not studying our own ignorance, but ironically blacking out the text of the past, deleting old episodes that showed where we were on the path to where we have come. Without that bridge, you can no longer look back and look into the present day mirror to clearly see your image. And, just image a generation that studies social culture and symbolic language through the internet, without ever picking up a classic novel, learning history, or advancing beyond a second grade, rudimentary, 12-year-old's imagination of the universe. Can we distract more geniuses with unprovable math and Hadron collider's while sipping on more of Elon Musk's gas? 3.31.23 workshopping this, too. Edit later? Tired of my own bullshit. Really. I don't want to be a modern day Holden Caulfield than pay Tom Sawyer's fee to paint a virtual fence from the most wildest (revealing) dreams...but only one color. Monochrome is the color of dreams. Let's avoid red. What's in this coffee? Stay focused, Brian. Sorry, that's my schizoid other half, life partner. We're inseparable. Use it to jail me, as I use as defense to stay out of invisible traps to social imprisonment. Nicer than gas chambers. What am I implying? What do you infer? can you? read? between? the lines?? Huh? Exactly. Nah, we don't connect. Wrong audience? Not looking for one. Do want to get off this line, if - I - could - just - hang - up... *dial tone* (anyone remember...at all?) def. editing later DEL no anagram can get me. maybe an emoji. how much time do you have to read symbols in this cave and clue it altogether? Yeah, I know. ;erft pf cenmter tjhos os whjat i wrptoe. an now it's noon. more  Excuse. I'll have some commas to insert, later. |
| Validation when you need it you're broken when you want it you're vulnerable We seek salvation without owning our sins And with that loose thread someone is likely to see and give it a yank Bear your soul with half your head buried in a thick, icy glass you drain -- need is superseded by want for a costly refill You can go a long time between servings as if you've been without love and you will kill yourself inside to get on the outside No one has to own your sins They will own you if you let them because you need human contact, validation But if you have pride and experience and have been tormented from the weakest to the most manipulative you stand back up, step away brush yourself off and go on a new mission because self-fulfillment comes from tormenting anyone who represents those that took your life you're alread dead you have nothing to lose pride as a motivator is fueled by controlled rage inside a highly functioning mind that never sleeps until... 3.26.23 My name...is Inigo Montoya... |
| Run From Yourself (Lyrics) Where do you go? Where can you go? When you run from reality. It’s a form of insanity. Out on the road. Don’t know where to go. You’re stuck in reality, insanity. What can you know? Run far from it all. Get as far as you can. No one you know. No one you depend. Mirror splash on the wall. Swimming in the insanity. Image distorts you small. Can’t live with conformity. Why do you run? Why carry a gun? Everyone left behind. It chases your mind. Reflection bears in the hall. Ever since you were small. Can’t leave it behind. Everything will remind. Out on the road. Seeking out your reality. It’s a heavy load. Can’t live with conformity. You’re the only one. What good is your gun? Hear everything smash — Crash of mirror glass. No one will see In a lonely scene. Out on the road. Out on the road. Words echo in here before finally near, A frozen horizon And it’s setting you fast. 3.21.23 After 3rd episoode of Burn Notive, inspired by main character’s plight. |
| the moths gather at night but do not near my dim light scum of life hardens a glass shell housing this hot bulbs flickering the moon crickets chirp their loudest bow legs do not rosin up in my thick damped by flood waters seeping, steeping thoughts keep interrupting I do not intersect with the crossroads life sparrows flock to fullest feeders flowing squirrels ravage and |
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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)
![Merit Badge in WDC Media Prompt
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Thank you for your participation in the 48-HOUR CHALLENGE: " Thank You by Dido ." Media Prompt hosted by [Link To User support] March 2022! We appreciate that you tackled this challenge... *^*Smile*^* *^*Thumbsupl*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/WDC-WDC_Media_Prompt.gif)
![Merit Badge in Good Things Take Time
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Here's to a world where we wouldn't have to keep reciting the words woven in your excellent poem [Link to Book Entry #1027990].](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Good_Things_Take_Time.gif)
![Merit Badge in Gay Lesbian
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Thank you so much for your poem [Link to Book Entry #1026670]! Please don’t ever stop being you, both as a writer and a visionary of love!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Gay_Lesbian-680.gif)
JANUARY 
18
![Merit Badge in Quill Award
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Congratulations on winning Best Medium-Length Poem, Free Verse in the 2021 edition of The Quills!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Award-1375927_6.gif)
![Merit Badge in Quill Sponsor
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Thank you for your generous donation to [Link To Item #quillhome] ! *^*Quill*^* Every donation is used to celebrate WdC while recognizing quality work and acknowledging community involvement. Kindest Regards, Lilli](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Sponsor-1375927_6.gif)
![Merit Badge in Quotation Inspiration
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Congratulations on winning 1st Place in the September 2022 round of [Link To Item #quotation] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/WDC-Quotation_Inspiration.gif)
![Merit Badge in Artistic
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Congratulations on winning day 6 of The Daily Poem Sept 2022!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Artistic-125.gif)
![Merit Badge in Problem Solving
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From [Link To User jayne] : With my apologies for the Redaction Poem prompt mishap. Thank you for taking on the challenge! I hope to see you next time for a redaction-free week of fun at [Link To Item #dailypoem] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Problem_Solving-210.gif)
![Merit Badge in Inspiring Love For Poetry
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Congratulations on being our Honorable Mention in March of 2022 at [Link To Item #2216416] !
Blessings, Sharmelle](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Inspiring_Love_For_Poetry-2259846_14.gif)
![Merit Badge in Action Adventure
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CONGRATULATIONS for [Link To Item #2229211] winning place as an Honourable Mention in [Link To Item #2254385] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Action_Adventure-100.gif)
![Merit Badge in Bard's Hall Blogging Merit Badge
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For placing 3rd in the Bard's Hall Blogging Contest, June 2022](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Bard=s_Hall_Blogging_Merit_Badge-2094227_12.gif){kind=icon}
![Merit Badge in 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)
