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 |   A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery. |
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Reason I came here in 2006, before all butterfly fancy and aimless balloon chasings. Thanks. It wentā¦that wayā¦ TĢµĶĢ¾Ģ¾ĢĢ¢ĢĢ°ĢŖĢ Ģ¹hĢµĢĢ½ĶĢĢĶĢĢ„ĶĢ²Ģ eĢøĢĢ½ĶĢĶĢ±ĢŗĢ®Ģ£ AbĢ“ĢĢĶĢĶĢ¾ĢĢ¦sĢøĶĢĶĢ»eĢøĢĢ½ĶĢĶĢ±ĢŗĢ®Ģ£nĢ“Ģ
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Ģ¦ĢµĶĢ¾Ģ¾ĢĢ¢ĢĢ°ĢŖĢ Ģ¹hĢµĢĢ½ĶĢĢĶĢĢ„ĶĢ²Ģ You get hungry as a seldom published author/poet/lyricist, so quit pedaling words and just enjoy the writing process. The bullshit āprocessā of submitting is submission. End of these days nearā¦ingā¦ --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My  goes through ā R S = 2 G M c 2  ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~   āāāāāāāā- .How I see myself createā¦in the zone Curry Flurry: ▼ Writing ▼ The beautiful mess made: I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost | I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me Neurodivergent poet ▼ Best Poetry Collection ▼ Been more than I could imagine or expect here. Why Mail It In? In Latin ▼ Pluggers: You are an icon here.  You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.  And other peopleās (reviewers) wordsā¦Review of "The Absence of Wavelength"  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 cadenceā¦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, includingā¦  "The Tender Core (Sedona)"  I donāt submitātoo much work with ADHD, OCD, low vision in condensate in mental prison of failing memory. Iāve seen a lot of smoldering and snow. Cynicism bred, work hard at openness and consideration. ![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)  I'm Godzilla ▼ August 28, 2006 this blog opened ▼
No specific aim going forward (2014) ▼  Now: I was such a whore.   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 #lyrics #music #video #YouTube #awardwinning 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? š© Secret Back Door ▼ |
| My brain severed by song-splitting-memory, ignorance since simple college subjects studied. Cable strung decades long, spool backward through jump-cut-frames puzzled without completion. Would this be the year, just as 2025 haunts a hopeless dreamer unborn, wondering how many more seasons to skip, skitter, jump through, arrive nowhere by each yearās end ā as yet clueless ā misguided, but wanting to believe one dream could still exist. Wipe a slate clean. It doesnāt wash away since linear went digital. Setting this year aside. 1.3.25 With malfunction, how did I get here? This far?? But, differentā¦ "Note: 48-HOUR CHALLENGE : Media Prompt Deadl..." |
| With a free handā¦ Door closes Vacuum seals me in Windowless gazing wallpaper worlds Door opens Air gushing all out Cross-legged ruminate wall-world messages I am free as I was before Thanks To All. 12.31.24 11th hour, 2024, in your houses no ghost roams Poetry found me, not the other way around. Itās a giftā¦and a curse. But mostly, a burden. |
| Collapsible and Rising Hands tied and in my dark Soon to swing Hope the angels sing A chorus, in death, a lark Plunge me further Toward humility Filled with wonder, alone But not dread that I could lose my head A chorus for you Iād phone in Instead, elevate Toward ignominy I bear this weigh on land legs Cross-strapped for you Because you need me to Stand on this platform Let all pass through Toward indignity One lever displaces a floor, the galvan-blade Sudden game stayed Before a knot frayed, neck coarse Still your undead, spirited Toward humanity The soul of one man, not severed Either, or in any way, Not deprived air in judgment days A tongue stilled. But, a pen-hand Cannot hush, walks tall tides thick Toward divinity See you there? 12.27.24 Made up here in 12 minutes, listening to Rhye āSinfulā. Editing longer. On this scape, no oneās goat. Everything broken before I could enter a POW incarnation of Machiavellian-inspired complication, dystopian wall writ and flawed, because you cannot apply a Chekhov instrument in thisā¦space Every outcome known and knowable, cannot make a true Winston drop, take a knee without the missing physical elementā¦merely a rug tugā¦ not the referential bus, beneath body-tossed. More will than all and ā¦not deadā¦beca-auseā¦. |
| A self-soothing savage sings. |
| You look lonely and worriedā¦ Spun out and perfectly content. |
| I Wake To Rest I wake with numb sensations that make me wonder if I might be alive if I might rise, hover over carpet, dully view out nose-print pane of memory scenes, if I might go to recollections after thoughts I might be move through a frame slightly larger than the necessary size, if I might wander on worn hall carpet position to see larger frames with inset glass tempered with just the right scenes where life witnessed grand, if I might see a view of the street should I float down past suspended images on walls of their likenesses if I might make it to the landing open vista to anywhere that I might imagine a horizon that day seek warmth from sun up to set without a regret yet I linger inhabit a world I claimed, but not mine where Iāve laid to rest many years skin-crimp this wrist, twist red, redder, again and again hope hoping put on spectacles to see sights of all that remains in these shadows, where Iāve communed in silent illumination, also wondering, if this is my story post death. I would send post cards from the grave if I could. This oneās for you. Sorry Iām not there to see you open. 12.9.24 39 lines She stumbled over skin-crimp, as I didnāt want a tired expression for pinchā¦still working on? |
ā¦finishing other peopleās prompts. |
| I wash out on evening tides. I donāt think of her anymoreā¦not even now. I missed many hours hiding, in too many nights. Lost are dreams that entertain dark, in quiet slumber. Tired of all drama for her, the body yields. Pillow, sheets and comforterā¦now ever ready. Iām sinking deep within the kingly confines. Troubled limbs find no rumblings, heart to head. Hands of time melt gentle behind heavy, wall shadows. The eyes, these eyes see nothing in space, simple in solitude. I wash out on evening tides. Tomorrow, all tomorrows, arrive to new songs of my own dramaā¦ A new era arrives, and why so important? I donāt think of her. Iām, Iāmā¦ 29 lines, freeād verse 11.22.24 12.9.24 12.13.24 Falling asleep on my keyboard, dreams cast in shadows unlit by the switchboard. I hear Trudyās theme when I reread. Sheās not dead. I only say, you canāt kill whatās already dead. I watch fury plunge the honed edge into my chest again, and again. Glad Iām something for someone who can emote feelings I canāt understand. Post my meandering, every midnight I recallā¦ 12.9.24 12.13.24 (Link 2 YouTube, plus all following remarks in poem(s)ā bright light, so youāll inspect ~ ) Dessert Have whatās left of my heart, since no one has use of it. Echoes addendum:saudade I had a lover once and again, and again ā but, it wasnāt love. I can see that now. It didnāt feel like work before realization Iām harnessed to our plow. You, long gone, many, many seasons now. What is it you subside on? My hand for you as I drown in these sands. āāā My last song forā¦who? |
I am the fourth wall you could stare into and not see a reflection. Forthcoming. |
The label ātoo seriousā puzzled me, engrossed in lonely illusion without fake cheery gift of smile. Unfair, because every heart song informed an isolated one with tangled, unattuned heart strings. Music made sense. Your declarations and perceptions lacked information I gathered, like armfuls of printed weather readings ā a collapsing tunnel of statistics from a prognostic printer fed inputted information, considered from all perspectives, nearly negating the overwhelming tides splashing a stone gathering lichen ā disease of a tender soul in want of any whoād admit, itās okay to have intense passion ā even if, for the deflectors and rejectors that held investigated pieces of me in self-important hands like indignity. I had to refuse each and every one who dared forecast the weather of me, without realizing their ignorant wisdom force these pressure fronts within, false navigation, resultant errors ingested and internalized for life. Sorry, if I let some serious leak out. These seasons, containerized, violent in a pressure cooker. My steel cage did itās best not to tear new holes in scenery ā music soothing the savage breast. And what right to spoil your party, as I canāt fake your needed smile, fear lyric I laugh ā not the right way for those blithe diets of spirits whoāll rebuff the slight, sour look. Iāve considered you and your nature. Iām heading out in my dinghy to swallow tempests and typhoons. Iāll be back to writing, after lunch. 10.29.24 Itās nothing new; not like I havenāt heart it since ādifferentā applied. No one feels obliged to truly consider me? Iāve worn out the worldās shoe stores with clod feet Learned to be a beautiful dancer, singer, athlete, lover, poet, butā¦ I live in the collapsed portions of narcissistic ideate-machinations and thumb-nosed manipulation with āput a sock into itā. Iād like to see you and your army with those shoe sleeves. You know serious. Meet tenaciousā¦he wonāt sleep until all the fatal mold scrubbed from the graffiti rocks hurled upon my soul harbor. I withhold a much more intense logic driven poem produced this evening. All thanks to these late life pro-biotics, learned what it takes to stay healthy, and work. Eat what Iāve been spoon fed, hear echoing off walls to the calm waters, where I watch horizon clouds form, aim. |
| I'll even sing you a poem, whichever of the many I wrote with you in mind. We could cool beneath the mapleās tangling limbs, if you'll tell me why you chose him. I'll sing you about my dream forming tonight about the deserving one I'd wish to right. You can continue view this love as granted, or still here with the magic root Iāve planted. Summer often inspires passion's reflection, as we capture a butterfliesā wayward deflection. How pretty we sit here, thirsting to trust what could have bloomed above, if offered to us. I'll play best with harmonic strings truth, whichever heartfelt verse chosen could compel you. We have each sung a chorus when meek, longing, as a desperado sun dips and light streaks from dusk twilight to night in variations. You could hold in these wordsā observant vibrations, echoing love sworn true 'til that morning dew, thankful you at least stayed the night, imbued. Autumn arrival will come soon enough, yet fade where lyrics can still foster two in leaf parade. Inevitable frost will overwhelm your land, while my words are keeping you warm as long as can. And, I'll sing you this poem, too. I'll take any requests, if you only knew. Could you have loved me as much ā how to know? My dreams true, longer than one season into snow. I'll even write odes to you long beyond, might I whisper your beauty on black sight. One last tender chin touch for the fleet of wing, remind my words are nothing to what you bring. I'll sing all nothingness to you in my vocation, if youād desire, in this idle idol adoration. 9.15.20-12.13.24 34 lines Edited to rhyming couplet completion, 10.28-30.24 rhyme and tense and pronouns and direct actions tighter, more knowable. |
āā¦ There's an ordinary world Somehow I have to find And as I try to make my way To the ordinary world I will learn to survive.ā Touchstones Marshmallows from the back of the pantry, once airily formed, hung over my head, inedible now. Yet, I canāt seem to throw them away. The hand-me-down dish cracked a little more after another wash, spin, and I again, in dark store it away. Touchstones, rare, claim my memory. The child I lifted and spun around the room, witnessed joyously in song, an image burned into unforgettable. Where is that innocent delight now? I melt those marshmallows, in fudge made, serve on that plate under trap of cellophane. A remarkable moment arrives: two gleaming-green eyes and a cheery smile. Just one more dance, savoring confection, I recall all old songs sung to her and the dreaming charm reawakens in my arms. All moments captured, white cream consumed, motherās green heirloom hides away. Mindfully comes pause for one touchstone I value the most. Sleep tight, words I would hush still to that sleepy, bright face dreaming every marshmallow cloud spun on our plate, and this pact: never forget tradition, and purpose the undying glowing in our clouds through ceramic bright; and, hold all those old memories tight. 10.20.24 10.25.24 kinda big edits, added punctuation Nothing can put me to sleep these days, missing over twenty nights of sleep this year. One more since. A secret I keep from her. Not everything makes senseā¦ |
| People don't listen... I aim my ears for them... I can't decide anything on my own in my world, aimless... "Here We Go Again" It was February, 2022. Shortly after return from vacation...that's all you get. At least machines leave miracles of lint. 10.10.24 I'll go pop a pill |
| Spun Hydroplaning toward a semi Hit the brakes Car spun sideways to the oncoming [Steer] )reverse tailspin( (((three-sixty revolutions))) to the shoulder xStopx Didn't feel anything Fun, not fear Built for this not her | Hit the brakes ~ Sideways spun ~ She's leaving xx Slam xx 9.22.24 Having learned a form, in true tradition, I overdo it my own way, take liberty and string-link four of these five line poems together. |
| Red-and-White Pinwheel Wind turbine, lone pin-wheeling, on your horizontal axis, anchored silent in thick grass, I glimpsed with a curious eye, you, geometric wonder. Your curved plastic cups blading invisible molecules of air invading. Compulsion counterclockwise and colorful, swirl on, raised by gripped straw, guided by the young hand. About our lonely yard, natural By Newton-force law, actual peculiar propeller, torque motion blaze amazing to her sole child dreamer. In youth haste, neglectfully placed on the driveway night to morn. Swept and thrown by lightning storm, anguishing black nights spent alone, when in full sun, reborn. She found you in tender green, Under a flock of ladies ā stoic tulips, vegetal hyacinth. Lying down the groceries, considered you with a frown. Anew, skewered you in her ground to compare within the garden, join a bright array of swooning blooms. Life consumed a pale plastic, brittle-cracked in harsh elements. Factory-shaped skin eroded. Eager pinwheel, head above weed, carved on, funneled flows unseen churning, turned over and over. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ How many years has it been? Winters in snow, frozen in melt, long starved seasons rigid with sweet reunion this spring thaw How you reappear again Stationed in wait, surviving amid decay, blades thin, worse for wear before lips pursed blow that first burst of air ā miraculous rotation with wisp wings longingly lifted. In my grip, take one last spin, sluice the inhaled flowage, dream and run with your boy. Your foils wobble, a bit slower than recalled, and smaller. Of all our days logged behind her old house, now thisā¦the best. Iām scratching my head again. Dreams as your aviator recalled, as my heart climbs now nearer to Heaven. Savior Mom, see? My cherished pinwheel. ~ ~ ~ I would grin another day. at her desk, writing your ode. When opened the jammed drawer to rummage in her clutter Oh, pinwheel! She missed our games. I peruse the words on a page, The final note to us from her: So much depends upon the striped pin wheel, inhaling air in its dividing house, comparing to my brightest tulips that flex and swoon, where it anchors while heās been away. Your breaths send back every thrust, a pretty twirl ā his tiny turbine engine that made giants of men. He didnāt forget you in weed I failed to spade, certain of your grip amid chill-white pilings year in and out, Tulips and hyacinth forever sleep beneath before I join soon too in June, the last station. Sorry you can't tag along. He'll find you, I'm sure. So much did depend on you, that breathes inside of him. Tell him how wonderful to have you as companion, that I love him, dearly, with wind that sends us back. ~ ~ That's my pinwheel, childhood friend. Lies in keepsakes; never bury, but with me goes, at the end. ~ 96 lines, free verse, poem within a poem, story poem WCW inspired reference āYou may have noticed that your pinwheel looks like a wind turbine. That's because they are in a way! The colorful wheel has ābladesā that spin counterclockwise when air passes through it. The blades are three dimensional and act as ācupsā to capture the air so that they can move with the power of the wind.ā https://discoverystation.org/pinwheel-wind-turbines/# āObjects rotate due to the application of a torque or rotational force, which is often caused by an external influence. In more detail, rotation in physics is a movement that occurs when a force is applied not at the center of mass of an object, but at a distance from it. This force is known as torque.ā https://www.tutorchase.com/answers/ib/physics/what-causes-objects-to-rotate# "Musical Poetry" |
 I'm aware the promise to always love you was the moment you opened your eyes and saw me with what wonder. You, new to the world, and me, new to awe of a small hand reaching, grasping a thick thumb ā the next moment recalled. I was unaware, when it became unwritten promise I'd teach you everything. Yet wondered how you grew, somehow ā as unaware, how that voice would sing after gliding where we rowed many hours logged in our green, comfy chair. From that window, aware and hoping all of nature could see but not compare to the love you'd given me. How confident legs ran right for open arms, well aware you'd plunge my chest like the deepest ocean bared for you, protected and spared any lurking evil should it ever dare. All too aware, prayed where we read together in a small bed each night, a fight coming to stay alight, struggled in those sands together before free of that fog remaining hours logged by her to dream you forever. Laying aware in silence, finally convinced of this marvel, not dread. Wonder of dreams that charm the crown in cuddled plush, slept tight to grow up right. My lifelong friend offers hugs, with a grip strong to soothe slouch shoulders, stiff of neck. Aware, you'll offer anything, beverage to bring, snack where I nap and gaze the autumn tree, ponder its colorful arrival. Truly aware in this phase, the ease to laze in our old chair, unplanned adventure possibility yet before winter white paints the step. Awareness now, cocoa clutched, the blanket on my lap. Garland and tinsel greet needles and rails. Your words adorn shortest days. Brighter story, a melodious tumult with cadence marches from a resonating man's chamber, echoes love undying, with knowing ā you're aware. 8.26.24 58 lines It's been forecasted; what I wish I could have offered: "Invalid Entry" At outset, written to Pachelbel Canon in D with reminder of the classical musical mobile above his head on the carpeted floor where he learned to reach, see those lights lit when touched and old dad singing his full name in 10 easy syllables to Mozart's Eine kleine Nachtmusik. |
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Realize someone somewhere (everywhere and anywhere) has it worse. You won't hear me drowning out their cries. I confide here, look for others who relate. I question what drives me to share, need to be understood with this obtuse, oblique language. No amplifier or soap box needed. Joy is in doing the work, connecting dots in brainā¦puzzles I forget, repeat. It's catharsis, this discipline called writing. I assume that's why we're all hereā¦? 
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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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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)
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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)
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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)
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Congratulations on being our Honorable Mention in March of 2022 at [Link To Item #2216416] !
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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 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)
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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)
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Thank you so much for your poem [Link to Book Entry #1026670]! Please donāt 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)
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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)
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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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A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art.
ā Paul Cezanne
Thanks for your participation in my 'art' challenge via my notebook feed.
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