[Poet’s Note in Comments Section of Poem ]
two companeros sorting revolutionary literature
in spirit’s gap unwrapping gifts knowing fresh
labour ! sabre cops might have followed us hot
cops never come on Saturdays — they watch rugby* remarks she blithely
work births experience dissolving glib speak
stealthily arrived contingent of state security police stalking
books, pamphlets, writings, ephemera, poems
confiscated not lovingly touched again
never say never self-assured confident
I want to miss my kids
I want to see my hair no crumbs or cheese whiz
I want to enjoy healthy friendships
outings like camping and family things
me plus one for a change
I’m so tired of doing everything on my own
I’m always that single mom who’s alone
no partner, no man, just me,
Here I am
no other family, just a loner.
the judge me like a park perv with a *****
the way they look at me, like they pity me,
It was healthier than living with his violent mistakes
No sorry is good enough
When a man treats you worse than his stuff
Society sees a woman that can’t keep a man
They don’t see a woman strong enough to stand
Alone without allowing the disrespect to go on
Every carnival, every movie, every oil change, every bill I pay
Every flat tire every mile
every family photo a forced smile
the biggest lie ever sold
is too tell a woman she can have it all alone
she’s ripped apart shredded at each end
not knowing where she ends and the kids begin
night from day’
far from child's play
but something like a living nightmare
every lonely not long enough exhausted no rest day
The rebel
Line of inquiry:
“Neither desire nor aversion
Meditation our immersion
Conditioned beliefs discarded
Hymns we hum are our own version”
Strongly I feel, I am longing for “A” one;
Justly I be intense desire;
Personal how be it drawn;
I fight against authority;
I am hierarchy;
Best be believe in me;
Repugnance, to do paired said desire;
Masting said, FIRE,
feelings of dislike, repugnance bio;
Unwillingness to do something see,
One thing paired with a desire to turn away
Subject matter dismantled, swayed
Such a soul dissident, I am a maverick;
Under baptism totally involved in an activity,
or subjects matters;
Deeply I am focus;
Midst the Hocus-Pokus;
Hymnos be still my Song of Praise;
Earth and Heaven raise my name;
Purpose of adoration, I be of royal deity;
I am the Him in Hymn, really!
worship someone or something through song;
Not conceited, I’m exceeded
A Revolutionary nonconformist just an Insurgent
Never am I ever flaw, nor wrong;
Solid Is Illusionary
We are elemental echos in illusionary domains
Fleeting spectors in a realm of imagined remains
Where this invisible blanket of solidity can unfold
As long ago our shapeshifting dreams foretold
The ashes of truth are trapped in the fires lie
In a vail so thin where enlightenment must surely die
Lays the unseen sanctum for metaphysical bridging between
Here and where memories flow in the narrow astral plain unseen
There where the funeral flames fade
Be not lost, but found, where the homesick soul laid
Of the silent searcher who sleeps within
In the never never land where all dreams begin
Written: September 21, 2026 for a contest sponsored by: Silent One
*************
“You look but do not see” —
yet “here comes the sun,”
and “the times they are a-changin’.”
I walk “a long and winding road,”
where “every breath you take”
becomes “a bridge over troubled water.”
“I still haven’t found what I’m looking for,”
but “imagine all the people”
who “carry that weight”
and “knockin’ on heaven’s door.”
“Nothing else matters,”
when “we are stardust, we are golden,”
and “forever young” is only a prayer.
“Blowin’ in the wind,”
I hear “a hard rain’s a-gonna fall,”
yet “don’t stop believin’”
whispers through “fields of gold.”
“Wish you were here,”
but “you can’t always get what you want.”
Still, “hallelujah” rises,
and “let it be” becomes my vow.
The Tenant
I gave the darkness horns so I could point at it.
I gave it a face that was not mine,
a throne outside the skull,
a name to curse when the night went wrong.
But look at where it sits:
inside the gold curve of my own head,
close enough to whisper,
one clawed hand cupped over the eye
that would have shown me everything.
It never crept in from outside.
I fed it here. I called it enemy
so I would never have to call it mine.
Every blame I handed off to hell
came back by morning, wearing my voice,
the same old flattery, the same old fear,
the same small pride that could not bear
to be the one who did it.
The eye keeps burning through its fingers.
It has always been open.
It only asks that I stop looking away.
So let the horns come off.
Let the mask slide down to a mirror.
The thing I feared was never at the gate.
It was the hand that wrote the story of the gate
and sat here all along, still holding the pen.
On the road key lime, full moon kindling;
Green light deep dark wood graphite;
Before the rain red rock desert prickly pear;
Full moon kindling On the road keylime
8/20/26
Long breathes bred in lengths to escape stressssssss
unless the devil weighs us less
as he mocks us in jest
unless
we pray to the most high
as we sigh
me, my, thoughts and I
But he that lives above the sky
rules the minds of those who disguise
the lies
that lie in disguise
no longer in guise
the intuition that decides
whether we live or die
breathe or cry
so lets try
to keep our whits about us
you and I
the thoughts that lie beneath the mind
beneath the physical lines
where the soul resides
long legged sacred
haunch observes
a veneration in Ancient Egypt
speaking beak in Thoth-Hermès hands
first feathers released from Ark
fertility symbol hailed by Moses ~
What matters I’m 5
Kindergarten freedom vives
No longer hangin wit mom
With my own peers now
What matters when 15
I’ll be video gaming
Skateboarding, bike riding
Doin some 10th grade studying
What matters when I’m 30
Getting out of debt
Saving for retirement WORRY
Dropping toxic dynamics
What matters when 50
Keeping maintaining good health
Stilled financial security
Medical preventive screenings wealth
Matters what at 70
Independence and mobility
Ableness to walk, talk, see
Pain free living active be
Written: September 15, 2026, for week's Poetry Challenge:
Autumn Memory
The leaves came loose like letters from the trees,
and skittered silver-gold along the lane;
the wind went whispering through russet peas,
then curled its cool refrain around the rain.
I still recall the harvest's amber light,
the scent of apples crushed beneath our feet;
your laughter lingered, low, against the night,
while woodsmoke made the dark seem warm and sweet.
The pumpkins burned like lanterns by the door,
and dusk drew lilac veils across the field;
we spoke of things we had not voiced before,
as if the year itself had paused to yield.
Now autumn comes, and all the old winds start—
the leaves fall, but they cannot take your heart.
All the fireflies of the town
Have gathered in front of
The Town Hall.
Being mere sources of light
Not worm
Nor life.
Mere sources of light -
The way sometimes
Humans become
Mere genitals.
I can't look at their light
Are they brighter than the Sun?
I can look straight into
The sun, Day and Night.
Still, I can't look at
The Fireflies
Like the people who
Look at the genitals
Can never look at
The Eyes.
Bald eagles soared to climax
winds following suit
reaching Mother Moon’s orbit
pink-blue wings swirling in space
feathers reach essences dissolving
Love innocent endures —
Breastbones transmuted at
point of no return
we sailed into Void, fluid
zéro apogee in vastness
stoic points absent to
pierce poinsettia
throbbing Hearts
bleed red —
_________________________
Silver Winner Poem
Allpoetry: Sept 26
Form : Brevity
Prompt : apogee
Little Echoes spreading 1
Behind the gilded gates where history sleeps,
Huge ancient institution secrets keeps.
Yet modern spotlights pierce the palace shade,
To question how its wealth and power were made
Bound to the empires of an older age,
And written on the slave trade's darkest page.
The whispers spoke of skin and unborn heirs,
A shadow cast upon the golden stairs,
ink in Dutch translations sparked the flame,
And public voices rose to shield a name.
Then questions asked of origins and birth,
Denied a British citizen her worth.
The tabloids spun their headlines day by day,
As ancient structures blocked the modern way.
From old exemptions hidden in the past,
To broad exclusions never meant to last,
The crown still wrestles with the words it spoke,
And changes stirring in the winds that woke.
Morning chapel
padre preaching
all new to me
came here for a natter
see what’s there to see
every hell has its angels
he don’t know ‘bout angels
how they fight
thrills of a motor bike
chariots o’fire
if he say he do, s’not true,
he aint read the manual
don’t know what a spanner’s for
he just know we threw it in
an’ it don’t work
I’d run out o’ booze
drunk as a lord
awake till morn
got no comfort
I ain’t weak
disinherited me
had nothin’ to give
always empty
it ain’t right
raised hungry an’ thirsty
plenty o’ scrapes
showed no mercy
weak for a tart
love n’ leave
that ain’t odd
yeah, was picked on
fight for me rights
they be-me-attitudes
an’ I’ll not change
bless ‘em they try
‘n they try
I’ll never change
if heaven is gained
through suffrin’
I’m in
man-ah never found
streets paved with bread
much less with gold
I looked for trouble
‘n found it
there ain’t no justice
tain’t no miracle
that’s why I’m here
tain’t no miracle
Allusion Categories
Definition | What is Allusion in Poetry?
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Related Poetry Forms
quotation, connotation, remark, inference, suggestion, innuendo, citation, insinuation, imputation, mention, charge, indication, statement, intimation, denotation, implication, figure of speech, play on words, casual remark, incidental mention,