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 |   All that remains: in afterlife as 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. 20k views |
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Obshchak Some torn to the ground Some burn to the ground Others removed brick by brick Redesign for the times When the lease comes up Or just fold up When you have a bad day and need a reason... Formerly: New Zenith To Hell…(all started with arc as writer here from the trials of Rising Stars to Preferred Author to WDC Quills Best Poetry Collection... "Whoever fights monsters should see to it…he does not become a monster.” - Some guy, I guess. Look it up? I’ve been to the abyss and back. Not so bad. The loneliest happy person you'd ever meet, when not the saddest person who needs to be alone. In an ever-changing world, we need to handle topics at the ready. If you roll over and give in to the narrative without lending a voice, might as well hand over your civil liberties. Voices could connect to true conscience and spirit for honest and open discourse. Why feel so redacted? Unify on issues or don't but put drama aside. Open minds require complete objectivity. Or, agree to disagree and have a beer. Just writing what I feel without the narrative-altering mind f---ing with my head. [MY Chorus] In your house, I long to be Room by room, patiently I'll wait for you there, like a stone I'll wait for you there, alone - Chris Cornell, RIP Some other stuff ▼ My recent poetry:
Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on... Blah, blah, blah ▼ ![Merit Badge in Rare
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I like your work!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Rare.gif) Thank you WakeUpAndLive️~Happiness  for honoring me with your kind words!Read here some old blog entries...  2018 Highlights ▼ More... 2018: The Quiet Ones ▼  Brian K Compton notes an echo~  |
| I didn't want to open the email, so I had my wife do it. The new Wisconsin poet laureate Karla Huston read my poetry and had advice for me. I doubted I'd get a reply, let alone the next morning. I didn't want to be intrusive...and she wrote me a long and thoughtful email. Ms. Huston wants me to submit. She also located three poetry reading spots where I can share and suggested I join a poet's group of about 500 that's over 60 years strong. She talked about all the ins and outs of approaching publication and being a poet today. She knows poet laureates that don't submit and just self-publish! That's because they write, teach and talk about poetry everywhere they travel. I submitted four poems to this poet laureate. It was very difficult choosing while hopefully not overwhelming her. What I picked...the styles of two contrasted the other two in verbosity. "Thank you for sharing a few of your poems. I really liked 'Feeling Autumnal' and 'Celtic Roots.' My taste runs to poems with simple language and smart metaphor. That's my taste, though."
Now, going classic school girl, trying not to gush, I thanked her in a short follow up, letting her know I appreciated her time and helpful advice, which I will use. |
He never once released The panel beneath Their toaster. Years of neglect Shook from her heart, Washed down the kitchen sink. Her onion bagel Sated a pining appetite For something different. Just learned what '50 Shades of Red' means...and from all places, Wikipedia. Some things you can't unlearn. |
Self-destruction We must let go this all or nothing reality — the unbearable lightness of being. Scrub memory? Seek eternal sunshine of the spotless mind? Rather hunker down alone in my delusion, find purpose for the endless stirrings, heart still beating, wanton, yet; hope daunts, as I’m still seeking a friend for the end of the world. Free verse 12 lines or 13...your call http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0096332/ http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0338013/ http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1307068/ |
 ![Merit Badge in Poetry
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Congratulations on being named Honorable Mention for Best Medium Length Poem, Structured, for [Link to Book Entry #922328] at the 2017 Quill Awards. *^*Smile*^* For more information, see [Link To Item #quills] .](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/type-Poetry-2180.gif) Uninspired on an overcast morn, shrouded, a mist of ideas newborn evaporate true inspired revelation. Dear Autumn with your condensation, wonder why you abhor a leafy loft, send away my humecant words soft? Withered truants twirl, fumble, hide. What I seek no longer lives inside a foggy window, merely a facade -- tiresome reflection looks at me odd. Clouded in aged memory's wake, behind every smile I cannot make, rages a beauteous, symphonic death; when Winter smears white my breath. 14 lines Traditional, non-sonnet Prompt: behind every smile Words: facade, abhor, wonder, mist I know what I feel inside, can't fully express it with my face on the outside and I'm aging as winter threatens again. Why don't you understand me? |
 Believe is what you said and so I did, waited, alone for you in this uninhabited dark. Trust is what you said, hold fast I did, dying inside, awake in memory, slow decaying in my heart. Visions stir, enter pale light. I seek anew just the touch of you. The essence of true love lost I crave. How to get back in your good grace, see your dark face with an approving look. Encased in my cell, I've chased away hell, relegated to lament all you took. You'd unclothe me, leave me to spoil? Such sickening sweetness, now emerging, awakened amid the odor of your rescinded vows. A taste for your flesh lingers on hungry lips. I have not forgotten your tongue, teeth-gnashing youth, truth inhaled; now blemished, lurid, hiding from me in light. These visions stir me from a dense antechamber, enter pale light to seek anew just the touch of you -- the essence I crave. You left me here. You left without goodbye, blemished to stain and die. And, the one reason I waited In death was to celebrate when you join me again. 10.31.17 46 lines Free Verse October Dark Dreamscapes Poetry Contest for picture prompt |
| It's a strange, forbidden place They'll say, don't go down there But, it begs me try, scale The rocks, seek the unvisualized, Thinking, it can't be so bad You're entreated to a cavern Mocking this lonely shape You won't dare go further What else have I to do, thinking You need me, need my eyes Explore a lost, unloved world, To return and tell others You're not some ugly mystery But hidden truth to be shared But, would you want that? I go deeper within each mission Treacherous, consuming Exhilarating that I live. But, I share no more Because I have tried, survived And died with each ruinous search Never actually finding you, but me Alone, all the more. The Hollow of Truth? Empty The Cavern Forbidden |
When I was ignorant and verile I dreamed I could move mountains for you There's been a cave in And apparently it's my fault Buried in my own emotional rubble I don't hear anyone digging It's peaceful, I'll give it that I'm not in dire need of rescue No emergency here, waiting Dreaming decathexis tastes like Two decades of dirt you made me eat. |
| Just scratching the surface, Digging holes deepest In soft sand. But, my hand Is but a tool Of the disparaged mind. Would scoop your brain, Heaping, oozing spirit Of knowledge, Fill the ground With its beguiling love -- Stamp it firm And go home. Let me rest. |
| "But there is wisdom in being circumspect about such things, to reflect before telling what can never be unsaid, or sharing some supposed “honesty” that may wound beyond healing. Better to swallow even that which scalds than to unleash, for whatever reason, an unknowable damage that might have been spared." https://www.imagejournal.org/2017/09/21/secret-mercies/ Perhaps, what drives us as writers is not knowing, not understanding what is going on. We try to fill in the gaps, try to make sense with our unknowing, by writing. Maybe, the origins of fiction was from being denied the truth. |
| Does this sound like sarcasm? Oh, now it does? Came out of a funny dialogue I had to get myself to read and review when I was too distracted and idling over unnecessary things. I'm learning I have more to write since I've reapplied the reviewing process to my writer's schedule... Why you should review: Studies of your brain (No actual source) show it is small (Don't quote me on this) when it does not contain words. How to get words In that cranial cavity, you say? Read. But, I don't know many words. That's why you read. But, words can be hard to understand. Writer's mix them up in different ways. I hear you say this, dear 'aspiring writer.' To understand words you read and evaluate their meaning in a process I like to call reviewing. Reviewing is good for a brain that needs words -- needs to process them by writing. This reviewing and writing you speak of... will it be hard on my brain? (Now I'm just putting words in your mouth -- see what I did there?) It's possibly harmful for your brain under certain conditions. You must take precaution. Consider reading when it is quiet, a place well lit, so you may ponder the words of another, allowing you to write your feelings about them in a review. For instance: Your story about a favorite cat that died made me feel sad... Your poem about mother made me very emotional. You can elaborate on those thoughts, if you are advanced in the ways of wordsmithery (Don't look that up). By reviewing, you discover new words and new expressions. Consider it an adventure for your brain that needs words. The more you do this it will be like riding a bike (simile), because it becomes easy to do. And just think (Something else a brain does), you will meet other writers who are readers who will consider your writing (review or other) and give you feedback on your words. It's a process writers go through to achieving success -- just by reviewing. Fill your brain with other people's words and envision a whole new panorama of critical thinking that will lead to better learning and understanding of words. And, you'll have a use for your empty brain. Or, just plant some nice flowers. |
| Maybe, I hate fiction, he said, he wondered aloud. Of course! Maybe, I hate spoken word fiction -- audio books read by the male Siri. Or, do I hate stagnant attribution, or plot, while still fresh: the fragrant smell of something, how one visualizes the world differently, why we do things, waiting to get through some thought about the past, if I did things differently -- novelists realizing missed opportunity? Or, is it me? I missed an opportunity starting the chapter of my next novel seventeen times, each start better than the last, tricky working out that plot; but, forgotten -- no longer hammered out on inked, soiled linen-like paper, reams unbound from glued, form-fitted wrap, now remote files stored two or three laptops ago, nay diskette. I hate fiction. I hate said, he declared... loudly... for emphasis. And, I hate punctuation. I'm done. |
She would have been 94 years forever young today. Happy Birthday, Mom.  Her love of books and poetry inspired a young lad:
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| Another 1-Finger Type Leave Leave it alone See how clouds swirl... Leave Leave it behind Smell autumn's arrival Hear dry foliage clatter Forgotten laundry Soon unpinned stems Come Come over here Touch dewed lawn Come Come to my voice Taste sweet apple Savor sour perfection Look Look my way Harvest this Not memory Do not mine Rockpile of thought The sun soon departs While it lasts Come cast a look Leave it behind I cannot In good conscience Leave him behind I cannot A poor boy confused Refuses to leave Ruddy-faced Blond, blue-eyed Delusion Does not know I cannot Pure in heart Look ahead I cannot A delicate child Scared to come Mussed clothes Bare of foot Fears, still Hasn't realized I cannot Quit him I cannot come To his aid We're both stuck Go on ahead We're all right here Say goodbye to autumn The sun, vistas Someday seen Before you go... Too dark I'll be here Until we meet again. I was beautiful once Realized too late Can't get it back Still inside me I keep reaching in But something different comes out Grasping Regretting Shrugging Energy spurned Humming deep within Teasing, reminds I was beautiful once Innocent, lost Still in a dark Husked heart Unsheathed When I near you Truth lighting My cavernous soul With no eyes I yearn to be within Reside with you Describe for me What's there So at least I can shed a tear I was beautiful once I did not know him At least I did Time forgot I feel him And he won't come out. |
| "You don’t get to control everything. You can wake up at 5 a.m. every day until you’re tired and broken, but if the words or the painting or the ideas don’t want to come to fruition, they won’t. You can show up every day to your best intentions, but if it’s not the time, it’s just not the fucking time. You need to give yourself permission to be a human being." http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jamie-varon/to-anyone-who-thinks-theyre-falling-be... |
| A poet is like a murderer, Leaving clues at the scene of his crime, Hoping you piece them together, Come looking for him; So he can kill you Where he lives. https://twitter.com/glaedrfly/status/906485083896520704 |
| Painting No matter the ups and downs The times we cause each other's frowns I stand by a beautiful stream Flowers stun, monarchs freely dream Longing only for your loving touch Longing for the One I need so much The only tears I chose shed are of joy, Our life with the artist and wonder boy No matter the black din that divides us Before it all falls apart And I'm staring at an empty vision in my head. Finality forces us summarize Slow down, look around I'm doing a dance here. No partner, music? Think I'm going to stop. Context, Brian . |
| Discovered wattpad finally (my kids have been using it). Taking a trial run and thinking about putting a majority of my writing there on the app, once I get familiar enough with it. Not exactly the place for old farts or poets, but I have to see what else is out there for me. Need to move my roots around and see what else is out there. I've likely outlived my usefulness here, though I love creating items to share. I'm failing fellow writers in the feedback area because I'm too focused on me these days...and the eyesight thing.  They say wattpad is 90% readers. I can finally pursue fiction on my terms. I have long been a cheerleader for this site, trying to share it throughout internet and social media, hoping to build a following here. I guess it didn't have the desired impact. When someone told me I was among the Top 10 writers on this site, I thought, need to find a bigger pond. Fortunately, internet streams connect writers everywhere. Just need to see where this new journey takes me. Plus, I think Brian Keith Compton might resurface! |
Thanks to the following: GabriellaR45  iKïyå§ama  ruwth  Ẃeβ࿚ẂỉԎḈĥ  Brenpoet Warped Sanity  🌕 HuntersMoon  Meg turtlemoon-dohi  MDuci Tornado Day willwilcox Alexi  Alan Philps alfred booth, wanbli ska River McKenna M.A.GEORGE Brittany L. Engels Elle - on hiatus blue jellybaby CJ and Muse Sparky Cinn ♥tHiNg♥  Choconut  Angels in my Ear tYpO/T.Boilerman Ryan Jentzsch just jess:NovelWriting101 ßlueyeʐ Marsha Musselman shaara PuppyTales ~WhoMe???~ Merisol Venice just jess:NovelWriting101 Mare ~ extended hiatus tucknits  WakeUpAndLive️~Happiness Ann Ticipation Kit  kafkaesque April Sunday Bill Thomas Whata SpoonStealer  Acme Adriana Noir Spiritual Dawning  Allen Harriet AnaStar TAofR DMT - THANK YOU WRITE.COM Andrea Jones ANN Counselor, Lesbian & Happy Charmin Christopher Corcoran ren (baby no. 2 due in June) AXiLeA BIG BAD WOLF Happy July 4th!  bob county Brandiwyn🎶  Cody Wayne COUNTRYMOM-JUST REMEMBER ME  Dan Sturn dblameck (David) CHarris Chris Breva  Crys-not really here 🌑 Darleen - QoD Dave Destiny Diane ~SilverMoon~  Doremi Dorianne J. A. Buxton Dr M C Gupta  drifter Elijah Jones embe emerin-liseli Equilibrium eyestar~* Storm Machine Forge Angus  amy-Has a great future ahead Forgotten Places  fyndoria grandmapenny Cobwebs-In-Space Reindeer  Ida_Matilda_Wright Help iluvhorses gmacintyr ghostranc Gossamer Dreams GrimReaper-WDC Angel Army 🪽intuey🕊️  Jacqueline jaya Jeff  Just an Ordinary Boo! Kat Kate - Writing & Reading katwoman45 Kenzie  kingarpo Ladyoz ~Lifelessons~ Lahtnamas Wise Lexi Lifeaholic LinnAnn -book writer  Lorien Lou-Here By His Grace Magoo Mara ♣ McBain  Maria Mize  Mark C ~ 9 years on WDC! Shanachie Michaelmountain:spring hope Monty  Mrs. Whatsit Mumsy  MuseinMeltdown 1leila123 Nanapockets Nomadic_Soul northernwrites NOVAcatmando Annette in Paris  pentatonic Princess Megan Rose 22 Years  Prosperous Snow celebrating  Pumpkin quihad Rachwrites82 rachie Rapunzel Rebecca Laffar-Smith Restless Soul Richard Briley Jr Richard Vance ridinghhood-p.boutilier  Robert Waltz  Ronis brain tumor is gone! Rose Praying for Peace Ruth Satuawany Seabreeze Sanita Serenity Seisa-sleepingcatbooks.com ShelleyA~15 years at WDC ShellySunshine Socorro Sophy  Startiara Stephanie Grace StephBee  Steve adding writing to ntbk. Stormy Lady SueVN SummerLyn Guthrie Tammy~Catchin Up~ teatei David the Dark one! The Knight Has Found Romance Simply Adore ♥  TheInstinctWithIn Tigger thinks of Prancer Tim Chiu  Tsa~House Greyjoy tsurtidogni typingrhyme very thankful VictoriaMcCullough Vivian  Wenderoo! papadoc1willy KimChi writerchuck Yellow Rose Zeke Pat ~ Rejoice always! ~*~Damiana Returned~*~ ~A.J. Lyle~ Lisa Noe The StoryMistress  The StoryMaster  ------------------------------------------ I write poems on my cellphone now. I could have never imagined that. To celebrate 11 years, I will add to this blog post throughout the day with all of my favorite moments here at Writing.com these last 1.1 decades... The first poem I offered this writing community:
Written about a girl in college who didn't think we were compatible until it was too late for us...our lives were moving in different directions. ------------------------------------------ Someone noticed me as more than a newbie within a month of joining.  A WOW award by a member who shared my Michigan roots....and a poem that seems to have become my most successful among readers and reviewers...
------------------------------------------ Going on a high speed chase, backward through time, looking for myself. The detectives eat donuts, the coroner readies sharp instruments, the newsroom plays games with crumpled copy, while I haven't arrived yet.... The latest Apple iPhone poem... Love and Words Poetry isn't my first language It was a beating rhythm In my mother's belly My fraternal twin Conceived Undelivered Until I set pencil to spiral notebook Resurrected It revealed itself Having hidden in my flesh Imprinted on shared DNA Celtic roots Like risen cream Giving birth over and over To her traditional flavor Tamed by a foolish boy With ideas of his own Only to return Inevitable Crying For the womb To heal his eyes, ears, mouth Show all What love and words Truly are made of. ------------------------------------------ And now, I tweet about my experience as a writer via my Twitter account... https://twitter.com/glaedrfly/status/892728530580254721 Lots more treats to come today... ------------------------------------------ In 2009, I was recognized with  as North Star recipient from Circle of Sisters, thanks in part to Gabriella and Kimchi, but not without my early recognition as a Rising Star from MDuci . Where are you Marlena?The recognized poem...
------------------------------------------ Perfection is lost once we try to conceive. Everything beautiful we yearn has already been perfected...and lost. Ambition is now the cruel mistress, leaving me with all these unfinished projects. What keeps us going is this naive belief we can find truth...when actually we're deluding ourselves with our own fantasy. (A)ware of that, we still keep trying. There is joy in the chase, this process. Maybe it is not illusion but love of the game. ------------------------------------------ |
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![Merit Badge in Second Time Around Contest
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Congratulations on winning the Grand Overall Prize in [Link To Item #2164876] with your beautiful poem, [Link to Book Entry #933358]. This poem really moved me. Great writing!
Rachel *^*Heartv*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Second_Time_Around_Contest-2164963_14.gif)
In the Falkland Islands, internet is very limited and very expensive. The place I'm currently staying only lets me use it in the middle of the night, so when I have to get up at 3 am to check my texts (no cell service to the US here unless I'm on the internet) or WdC, I don't do nearly as much as I used to. 
I currently have 2 very long emails I still need to get to from several days ago. Anyway, I miss everyone, but I also miss sleep, so there's that. 
Have you spoken to the doctor about your vision problems lately? I know there are special glasses for it because I have to wear them to read much ever since the brain injury. It's part of why I now only listen to audiobooks instead of reading regular books. It took 8 years for anyone to diagnose it because I have a brain injury and while one might think it would be obvious to me that I see double, it wasn't. Partly, my brain does a fair job of compensating. But also, partly, you use your brain to realize and understand that the 2 images you constantly see are double vision and something you should mention to your eye doctor. Since my brain was damaged, even basic things like that can escape me. 
I never once thought to mention it, even with annual eye exams in the Army and an exam every 2 years at the VA. Though, in my defense, since it happens in something like 41% of people with a brain injury, it should have been discovered by an eye doctor much sooner. 
I know doing that activity is a CRAP TON of work. But you made a difference in lives, not just his, but for all the people he's reviewed since. 
Well done! 
