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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 ▼ |
| most don't have words but I do just no audience for these theatrics playing out most carry no expressions while I animate but not outwardly because I'd be a fool acting out most do what they're told but not me not some mindless lemming tod- dling about if we could finally speak to one another what would be the conversation? weather is a given no one wants to stir the valueless, petty and unsolvable feelings would rather mock a loathsome creature lurking about shadowed by self-doubt most have no compassion but I do just no one steps up to receive acceptance like I would 8.13.20 |
| de-compose where the banana peels, coffee grounds and egg shells lay, perhaps I too could find new purpose. in a dark tomb of plant waste and soil. we could rejoin in some natural, spiritual way, where the harsh sun doesn't meet my eye but a sharp spade. skewer and spin my remains to mix and atrophy, mindless in silent repose. purpose, I could say? but, isn't everything cyclical? i'll be back here again next year, waiting for autumn to decompose. 8.13.20 while making an omelet today. and why does that matter? |
| nuclear words you keep holding on to that 50-megaton bomb you've been holding in like it could blow up Nagasaki you can keep telling me you have justification for your feelings while I suspect the longer you hold this arsenal that won't fly in any Enola Gay I very much suspect it won't even ignite a light bulb The World War I went through was much harsher than yours and comrades in arms suffered the same and we all tucked it away, too and it remains to still haunt and harm to this day There is an epicenter so wide and continually spreading within I question my mere existence day to day while you who once stood on your toes to look me in the eyes on the carpet where we played saw my blue eyes close and our shared DNA We are not that different except in one way I sheltered you from my ground zero I sung and danced when I didn't recite those fairytales that don't come true except in imagination. I shared my survival story and you have now created a narrative of your own where a father could become a villain who to this day is confused and alone as ever 8.13.20 some of the nuclear weapons today are more than 3,000 times as powerful as the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. i want to participate until my child eviscerated me last night with words they can never walk back from. even though today, acting like last night was pretty much business as usual. |
| funny I'm the broken one but you're the one that needs saving... Having no specific aim I've hammered away at this glass since resurrecting in your vision. I'm always ready to say too weary. Compelled somehow, instigation informs; and still, here I am... bright, full of light and dark, revealing the hidden colors and shapes. I hear what you are saying... but especially what you are not. Yes, I struggle. But, I'm getting through it. How are you? I've gone by other aliases. People remind me of that. Sometimes restrained, it's hard to understand these feelings I write. It will be clear some day. Hard to hide what's in the heart. I'm making no apologies. Not interested in the trap of stereotypes. Not sure how we'll feel about that. Okay? What I used to say: Maybe, I just don't get it. Watch me fumble with my version of reality, subjectively informed... expose ignorance as truth. So, you don't have to get me. But, wish someone would explain me to myself. Now that I've figured out the ever changing rules of your game, you take the ball away, no longer engaged to play. You pay a price for this kind of friendship. I lose, I guess, hey, gaslight? It takes strong flames to draw a moth like me. B.K. Compton ripglaeder3@writing.com redefined 8.12.20 written when, after another blog revision of the umpteenth re-order? re-inspired by Cat Power cover of correct lyrics: "Funny you're the broken one But I'm the only one who needed saving..." |
| tiny dreams on the cusp one summer’s eve while stalking crickets drenched in faded yellow, a reminiscent tornado sky warning fell into dusk, when eyes betrayed ears: tiny flairs, luminescent messages blurring, cut humidity’s silence in glowing color. another world burning more passionate than mysteries in green blades left undetected, I ran for a Mason jar and collected Mother’s warnings: not to stumble but catch dreams to illuminate, shower a lonely, nature lover and all things small adorning a bedside table. 8.9.20 |
| Mostly Sober Is it totally embarrassing driving us home, shit-face drunk, two parents sitting in the backseat, instructing you how to drive? I'm getting used to asking you questions like this without looking in your eyes, preparing the guise of a person who can't see anymore. The person who cannot visualize the person who reveals before him now. Your mom, who prefers me better, incapacitated like this, takes advantage of me, grabs my ass when I fumble for the seatbelt, holding on to some version of reality where all three of us can love one another with grandma and grandpa along for the ride. I know at 15, you got a handle on things. That's why I was the only one encouraging, not shouting instructions, when you took us for ice cream, your treat, on this sobering drive. I could sense getting closer to you this weekend, the only one not teasing you. Your head like a snapping turtle, after dinner, when the meds kicked in. I saw a teenager who needed a focus shift, pointed out kindly, we change the conversation, but they teased on a little longer. You hugged me twice later. It felt like trust, reconnection, with a dad who hasn't known how to be there yet. As we grow closer, I hope the drama doesn't push us further apart again. I'm learning to remember what it was like, sheltered in my own room, pumping music into my head to survive. To be that kid who yearned one kind act, even from a parent, to be patient until learning to 'straighten up' and 'fly right' our own way without being told... turn left, go right, the wrong speed and how to arrive. I just want you to know...I'm along for this ride...mostly sober. Sometimes, learning to be a dad is way more stressful than what you pilot. And, it's not the same. Why compare? When I’m old, I hope you still drive, take me out for ice cream. You won’t have to worry anymore what I visualize, because I judge with my heart, not my head.  |
| From The Door To Morning's Kiss I will always be the door That you pass in and out. I will be your window to other worlds You seldom witness, see through. I will be a cement slab poured To the entrance of my heart, Awaiting your arrival to Sometimes stand, yet never linger, To sit, repose with me below a canopy Of trees; moon shelter In the few warm nights, Cradle with my dreams. I am a candle in a room Perpetually burning, flickering. Aromatic shadows fill a long hall. I lick oxygen like love Lingering, my essence, Mere wisps of freedom Invisibly settle in your dark: On our bed, in your hair, On what clothes would remain If we strip bare our emotions Down to the hardwood floor, Remnants until morning light. We could arrive anew, afresh. I see my smile on your face, Embraced with morning’s kiss of sublime, shuttered sunrise, slatted and slathering our delighted skin warm. Will you greet me anew then? 8.7.20 Written by a dreamer romanticizing what could be with fresh eyes, husked from two that are failing. |
| and then the truth was unmasked boldly cliché pronouncement wanton eyes once unwitnessed unveiled villain subjective truth bold liar and then the words of revelation were pronounced bold plain utterances unwanted blind ignorance hidden vigilantes indescribable lies pale truths what words blatantly spoken to the wall quietly die alone, uninspected? because no one pries for Truth when in view of these committed scrawlings? On a dim-lit ocean, traveling deep dimensions of time, drowning without repose, waiting linear expansion, precious response — truth inspected for a moment, unmasked — alone in black, float a galaxy, otherwise unwitnessed. 8.5.20 I'm not submitting this to the Daily Cramp for today's prompt soon to pass... Edited greatly: 5.14.23 (Formerly: Committed Defenses - Cliche) DocX 2020 WDC Heart Throb Poet: "Note: Congratulations! [Image #2112528] ..." ![Merit Badge in HeartThrob Poet
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Congratulations! being the Grand Winner- Mr. Heart Throb Poet 2020 in WDC Land for your piece: [Link To Item #2213763] on [Link To Item #2110571] *^*Heart*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-HeartThrob_Poet-2072550_15.gif) |
| An Open Book pages now yellow hide dog-eared entries burdened by the weight of time... i left my diary open but she did not pry to read. entries that could instruct an indifferent heart, that could inform a mind ready to see inside this shell, could witness all the revelations i did not drop in conversation. i open this book wide and do not hide anymore. she is nowhere seen, travels further from purview. hope that I'll connect with that other worldly soul someday. still waiting, i'm growing ancient with a tome tucked with pages, forgotten notes like wallpaper coverings for windows of dreams -- of what I once was, now shrinking in a dusty village. a man too small to lift his own book does not know where the story of dreams begins, how the tales unfold because every ending: unfathomable. still dreaming in dark while Norah sings discontent, sends regrets from shores bracing horizons of potentiality, but not to be our reality. all quills run dry of the heart's ink. 8.5.20/8.28.20 37 lines, freeverse I'm in here, but it will take strong, electric paddles to bring me back to life. per the prompt: book An Open Book Yellowed pages hid dog-eared entries on a dust-shelf, since lapses in their linear time. His diary could lay open and Ramona wouldn't stop to peruse. Brian's entries could instruct an indifferent heart. Penned words he feared to drop in conversation awoke again. He thought the quill had run dry of the heart's ink. 5.29.23 |
| I watch you emerge from the sand combed beach shoes in hand while waves roll in break of day washed away, yet give me hope after we missed last night you've been searching those horizons again where to begin when every dry bottle marks a land of slowly elapsing time, where I never find invitation what divides two souls like curling walls of water I never seem embody with two eyes peering over clear, unbendable fence You have sung so sweetly so lonely like I'm never here ready to be your ocean where toes could steep in tide dive far beyond and below You could come away with me but not to dreamy visions -- hologram episodes floundering to find land on rock in a blood heart, tick time. drowned by hungry gulls who ply for divinity like this solemn man shadowed, watch your morning parade, evidence washed by watery limbs brushing idle footprints Just one night on soft mounds beneath a vigilant moon hydration sucked out in florescence, I would like to sit quiet with a dreamer who like me can imagine places far enough away from reality and too unreal from burdens of yesterday that calm souls unified in artistic afterlight. Last night is nearly 20 years past and still glowing beneath a vault hiding heaven. 8.5.20 edit later Random Write to three N.Jones songs TOP 40 ALL-TIME Writing.Com AUTHOR: Rank 35th, 7/2020 |
TOP 40 ALL-TIME Writing.Com AUTHOR: Rank 35th, 7/2020 BLOG: "SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days" POETRY BLOG: "Poetic Referendum(s) On Life" 2020 WDC Heart Throb Poet: "Note: Congratulations! [Image #2112528] ..." Most Talented Author 2011:  Shadows And Light Contest (21 awards), 1st Place Poems:  Best of Rising Stars:  2018 2012 2017 2010 2009 North Star Award |
| freedom washed your face one humid night, a canvas of electric, ultraviolet impulses; a reflection in memory now. on that hill with the blanket laid, machine guns could have been firing on my back: rapid and intense, unnerving. your sweater absorbed the impact, splashes of hues in new found independence. lava-spewing jellyfish swam in black; having exploded above my head, cratered in a violence of thought. gentle flashes marked your steadfast gaze, more radiant. haphazard cascades spewed cinders that could not spark a flame. miracle revelations like patriotism calling poured lava on my heart. strings of miniature stars draped the neck pearl shapes caressed. cloud fumes evaporated, invaded the sulfuric air between us. lingering anticipation in black, temporary night joined drifting debris in dark. bellies of sky chandeliers wavering, short lived; their ashes poured on decks of ships in harbor. shouts beneath could not distract eyes blazing, slowing with each shell broken apart; falling, fading. brief nebulous sky monsters collided, colorful with crushing finality. impacted atoms formed fierce storms in the transparent cotton candy condensing. crisp swarms once shimmered your renewed skin, before a black silhouette of silence. no plumes of lustrous feathers. no eagles of truth in cataclysmic flight. all fell harmless as the sigh of a crowd, bound to gather and desert our mount. the last engine ignited. we fell in formation, joined the rolling crew out that night.  7.28.20 38 lines freeverse Taboo Words -- FIREWORK DISPLAY: fireworks sparklers crackles bangs bright or any derivatives of these words |
| House Alive And A Snoopy Moon Eek! You heard the floor boards creak? Could there be monsters living under the house? There are things bigger than a mouse? I’ll tell you what it’s been -- creeping Old Man Winter is stumbling in. I’ll adjust the thermostat and that Will be the end of that. A hot chocolate, then bed. It’s three a.m. and something creepy, crawly just brushed against me. I turn to see a toothy grin. It’s you again. What have we now? What makes you so small under my covers, my lamb? A dark figure creeps on your wall? Ahhhh, that peeping moon spying in made a shadow of that oaken limb, waving, hello! Let’s go tuck you in again. Hear every pipe expanding with hot air? You see, no reason to care -- for they groan with despair now that winter is here in our tiny, drafty house, where you snuggle like a mouse. You have your night light on, as I sing a song. You can join along. Let’s drown out these things that go bump in the night -- close our eyes to prevent sight. Hear your heart beating -- just like the house heating? This home is just like us. In the morning, when you ride the bus, you can tell tales of monsters that wailed -- that sadly couldn’t frighten. And, in your heart you'll lighten, breathe a sigh, happy to know on high the moon watches you while your mommy and daddy sleep. Now, let’s count some sheep. 32 lines Unconventional Rhyme with Free Verse  |
| Weed Season Weeds pulled leave roots underground. Spades aid in a mindless endeavor I routinely begin late, by end of summer. Why does it take so long for a dull expression to fade, realize the toil cemented in this yard with each new infestation plying the surface to harvest? I lay in the maw to view once nimble fingers, soiled, dull, nails cracked, and quit, return inside and soap up, forget another day and dream of fall. Leaves shudder, tumble and mix with the pine's debt, like straw on decaying crop. I witness winter's white toll as a chill sets to dry. Layers of thick cotton bind under the duvet. I crawl beneath to clutch pillows tight, hold to a thinning chest, aching for some new season come, now. Dry eyes fade in black visions, hopeless in a sagging bed with labor's heat blasting our gray bodies, yearning next spring renews us. 30 lines freeverse edited: 6.6.21 no show Writer's Cramp Weed another day. original ▼ |
| You could take a safari through my words but won't pick up your weapons and gear to go hunting for wild game in my verses. I could hover anywhere in these parts where you could encounter a soul, gentle as a lamb, or fierce as any long-jawed beast. Yet, you merely wade at the bright edge of a deep, deep forest holding dreams dark. I spy from the trees for any travelers within, might they take a drink from bank, carry out a sip or two to savor; perhaps, while tented in safety of open fields, where fires burn sky. Flames' shadows tattoo puzzled looks viewing indifference that dares walk manicured blades outside, when inside they might find adventure and me. I'm really not a hairy beast, nor man in loin cloth howling to the other animals. I'm just like you and worthy. 7.21.20 Something I made up on the spot from an old professor's philosophy quote. |
| In Your Field In your field boxed, barred ember of stars Shunned, red and tattered waving high, half lowered on its stick In a field of blue smoldering white stars strain against lost memory fading nostalgia of freedom fought lowered 'neath new eyes, red In your field a lake drowns cooling sons born of fire shunned, re-caste in steel molds revisions ignorant for the obedient handled and folded each morning by patriotic faces with loose grips tarnish nostalgia our future anarchy fails freedom honor of a nation silent suffering Flags and anthems don't kill people but represent an ideological expression that inspired a new nation torn and manipulated red and white surrounding the blue. defend yourself before they take away your right to arms not even allowed on internet message boards. 🔫 7.21.20 They get you to fight with yourself so you don't notice your freedoms being lost to politically motivated, power hungry, greedy giants. The two percent has its own two percent. The more you rage against this machine, the more freedom you give away to the ideological right. I give up my freedom every day by speaking out. It's tar baby syndrome. You get stuck by being ideological and so you have to bend and cower and hope that they will let you back in, but it's not the same anymore. The will take you out of your houses and put you in centralized locations to work until the day you die. You have the freedom of virtual reality, but not true ownership of the original ideals that founded...this place. Go ahead, fight against their flag. You fight to lose. Pay attention to the writing on the wall, ever changing. They get you to suck their cold, hard, red dick until your blue, drained until you are white like stars drowning in your own masse. |
| How many stories and songs have been written hopeless about the one we long to be with, but never see it come to light except in story where we can change the end. And, for years I had a front row seat to you. And, for years I was your congregation that you did not witness. And though, you did not preach to this one, I did sing to you, continue to sing to you years after, hoping somehow to resolve my heart, why I was your witness, why I was not allowed to follow. Aside: Can you sing sweetly, passionate, without a good voice, find harmony in words crafted on this lighted page sent to the world inside an empty universe pleading response, true connection? What is this craving? Where is an empty container filled? Amber light peered into mine the days we sat across, divided by the Szechuan Parlor table greeted by cuisine I never dared until you inspired me try. What must you have witnessed to have lingered so far for so long. What I can only see in photographs is an image, black and white and hollow without your touch of Kodachrome. 7.17.20 don't know what the hell I'm doing here |
| My love for you has to be stronger than your doubt for us. Little moments I let slip away you no longer clutch. I thought you had the string. Our beautiful craft could fly away. Disparaged on this ground with two who won't agree how to lift -- makes me yearn to be weightless again. That stronghold in my heart firms in our waning hours -- holding you like a kite, remembering how beautiful our flight. We soared before. In the many hours captured, escaping like helium I breathe in -- with lasting, ever-expanding lungs, comes belief I can refill you with our love. 20 lines 7.15.20 For "Write from the Heart Poetry Contest" prompt: write about your favorite couple. We our my favorite couple ![Merit Badge in Write From the Heart
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| Ironic, drowning in the shallow of ignorance -- no hand to help me out. Okay, Boomer? Is that your life raft, Basic? I offer my rope to tether. Your logic floats on a sea of hypocrisy. Debate no longer requires skill, just a good meme to shame the Karens of the world with cancel culture, belittling philosophy. You don't need a college education with Animal Farm etchings crawling social media walls, swimming in hash tags like basic logic censoring the lost art of discourse. 7.9.20 I'm teaching my kids by learning their ill logic and applying it to subjective truth while drawing a line around their arguments that are limited when they cannot support a single assertation with fact. I could say the same for a lot of people I encounter who would be inspired by hate rather than meet in the middle at what we can agree is the truth. Ignorantly defiant, we are heading into a George Orwell novel that was never fully realized because he died before he could see the writing on the wall. The world needs me and yet it shuns me when I open my mouth. WHAT I POSTED IN NEWSFEED: Going to lay down a suppression fire on youthful ignorance, tired of the ignorant you're old and racist allegations for attempting open and honest discourse that liberals should appreciate... Basically, I am done arguing with ignorance spewing from my own brood. I'm now drawing lines around what they call the truth -- until they submit they are just repeating what they read, using every generic label created to nullify postulating by old, white guys like me. That's how you 'cancel' voices. Okay? Boomer?? |
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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)
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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 
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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 
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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)
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Here's to a world where we wouldn't have to keep reciting the words woven in your excellent poem [Link to Book Entry #1027990].](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Good_Things_Take_Time.gif)
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Thank you so much for your poem [Link to Book Entry #1026670]! Please don’t ever stop being you, both as a writer and a visionary of love!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Gay_Lesbian-680.gif)
JANUARY 
18
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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 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] !
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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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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)
