fawn breaks a glass pond
snoozed snout by a toad posing
gauged flight perturbed gnat
I Finally Realized.
The Reason I Think
No-One Wants To
Have Fun Anymore...
Is Because They Can't
Have Much Fun
Around Me!
I Guess I'm That
***W?ird***
-Gray Squirrel
09-18-2025
Nah! NAH!
Blahhh! BLAH!
Wouldn't Wanna Be One!
You Know The Drill!
Join In! OR Vacate
The Tribe, Bozo.
I Forget All The Words...
You Know 'Em.
-Gray Squirrel
09-18-2025
Very Little Experience
Hey!
I See A Bee!
A Bee Named Dee-Dee.
How Do I Know
That's It’s Name?
Because A Name
Is A Short-Cut
To Identify A
Specific Entity
Randomly Or
Collectively
Established
By Absolute
Choice.
A Bee? See Dee-Dee.
I Did See It Later,
On Cooling T's
I Was Hanging Out
To Dry, Because
It’s Fun, Today
Anyway.
I’m Sure It Was It.
Because It Needed
To Ruin My Whole
Idea About How
We Often Casually
Personally Name
Something We'll
Never Ever See Again.
So Much For A Name
Being A Useful General
Identifier, If It’s Never
Seen Again.
And I Love Dee-Dee
Because I’m So
Easily Amused.
Glad To See You, Again,
Hon!
I Don’t Know Why I
Wanted To Write This,
I Usually Think I Know.
Something Very Serious
Is Begging For Your Attention
BEGGING! BEGGGGGING!
Very Important To Responsibly
React To Important News
That Effects Whatever
You Are Serious About…
It’s Got Your Attention Now.
Figure It Out.
-Gray Squirrel
09-18-2025
SAILING TO GLORY
You can't rock my boat;
God’s my captain and rutter:
I am smooth sailing:-
BIRTHING ANEW
Pregnant mind birthing;
Awareness words being born—
Loudly echoing:-
Let your eyes’ ears hear,
As your heart beats excitement—
Awareness streaming:-
Newborn awareness,
Ensures changes are coming;
And sameness going:-
life’s a rush,
and i’m in the middle of it.
sixteen—
they call it the flower of youth,
but honestly, i just feel like
my roots pushing through stone,
small, stubborn,
aching for light
in a world too heavy.
the clock runs faster than me.
classes, books, exams,
every note i take feels like
a brick i’m laying
for some future house
i don’t even know the shape of.
my mind is hungry,
i feed it every day.
words, poems, philosophers,
all the questions nobody dares to ask out loud.
i’m trying to make myself
into something solid,
while still soft enough
to feel everything.
sometimes it’s beautiful
the thought that i’m blooming,
that every word i write
is a petal unfolding in silence.
sometimes it’s terrifying,
what if i bloom too late,
or bloom wrong,
or the world never even notices i grew?
and still, i run.
sometimes without knowing
where the finish line is.
but maybe that’s the point,
that life isn’t about the answers,
it’s about the rush,
the blooming,
the daring to grow
while time refuses to slow down.
and maybe, just maybe,
one day i’ll look back
and see that all along
i wasn’t just running—
i was becoming.
The boulevard of life
has no exit ramps,
Some find luxury
others homeless camps.
A single stop sign
lies at each road’s end,
But we never view things
beyond the next bend.
Each mile that we travel
we encounter another test,
Some, hold fast to faith
while feeling blessed.
We travel each mile
without thought or care,
While one day discovering
our vehicle shows wear.
Our fuel is most gone
and we cannot replenish,
But Jesus is the way
for our life trip’s finish.
God gave us a road map
offered without cost,
But too many didn’t accept it
and at their stop sign were lost.
trust me he said sweetly
i had my doubts but went along
surprise... instincts don't often lie
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I have walked the hallways
where minutes gnash like teeth,
each second a pebble pressed
into the jaw of memory.
The air tastes of iron--
memory’s rust,
old prayers swallowed
before they ever touched the light
Yet still - I carry my candle
into the jaw’s dark cavern,
its flame a soft rebellion
against the grindstone silence.
Soft laughter rests in the cracks,
like seeds grabbed
into the frozen earth,
waiting for the frost to release them,
for spring to rise
from winter’s quiet.
I move onward,
not a hostage,
but marrow unbroken,
a hymn rising
through bone and enamel,
singing until the jaw
yields to the light.
I sit and think about all the shoulds
I could get off my duff and do it all
but I like staring out into my lovely woods
enjoying myself this wonderful fall
things need to be cleaned and tidied up
a plethora of messes should be put away
but I enjoy sitting out here with my pup
maybe I will do them all another day
my pony dogs step over each other
as if the other one is invisible
casually walking over head and feet
I try not to do this to either of them
if they rise up, I am being taken for a ride
If I break a hip, it’s over
anyone over seventy knows this
Typical short gray curly hair
Smile
She looked away from me as I entered
I would have said hello
She grasped her cane as she sat
Starring into the distance
Her shoes look comfortable
like a nurse's sneaker
She wore jeans and a sweatshirt
I was on my phone
browsing nothing
She thought about me
and I thought about her
Yet we didn't speak to each other
Did her husband pass
Did she have children
I could've initiated a conversation
We were alone in a room
with no music or tv's
When her name was called
"Janice"
She rose from her seat with ease
and seemed not to need a cane
Maybe that cane was for comfort
I'll never know because I lost a chance
to communicate with another human being
A syllable count
holds no doubts
the green leaf,
will turn to red
and then to brown
and crispy
in just one hand
gets crushed
released
and its then
the beauty
of something
becomes
nothing.....
We never
appreciated
the it....
Something
more than we
saw as
shining
a path founded
and gently
holding hands
kindly
of your castle
left in the sands.
My inner child
I hate the trembling
of this conscious
of my young cheeks
I wish suffered
the least.
But I swallow this
of the harrowing
of no built of bliss
but
how I came to miss....
Days I didn't sleep
for most of the days
of built we are of clay
and knocked of hay
I know my ways,
the scars I caused
I am a garden hose,
a killing
of a baby
as I sleep
in my dreams.
I hate
the welcoming
to this
reality,
scars
are harrowing
and I do not believe
you too
are over this.
The bubble is bound to burst
before long; therefore at least
A gondola you should opt for
For letting loose your emotions
Loaded with almost all oceans
Curved currents and foams
Potential fear amidst delight
and excitement; your sights
blurred by beauty that roams
along the edges of the figure
Flooding your whole existence
Mopping off all distance
Of time and space in braincase
Only the embrace, you write
and replace, the lips and face
In cloud base and fireplace
In cold case and in a horse race
Mewing wooing cooing
Howling, growling, prowling.
Doing, undoing and redoing
Life is never a straight line
Bland canned and flatland
It's waist band and dreamland
Fascinating woodland
Crescent and fluorescent
Incessantly effervescent
So no monochrome of woe
No saying always not and no
Instead, the bugle of gusto
In the meadow with a rainbow
Always the wonderful gun
In your lovely hair-bun
___________________
18 September 2025
Specific Types of Life Poems
Read wonderful life poetry on the following sub-topics:
adventure, carpe diem, courage, depression, education, family, funny, future, happy, heartbreak, introspection, journey, love, paradise, rhyme,
and more.
Definition | What is Life in Poetry?
Poems Related to Life
activity, being, breath, dash, energy, enthusiasm, entity, essence, existence, flesh and blood, growth, heart, human being, journey, life span, lifeblood, lifetime, liveliness, living, oomph, soul, sparkle, trials and tribulations, vigor, vitality, way of life, zest, zing,