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Distortion-based Logic of implicit hypotheses
thundering on and over in doubleproportions of doublespeak
Re-inventing Truth at every turn
and turning it into Proofs
and making angles out of angels
Logicide
Integers of War Games
raising ratings to see if anyone can wage the War Game
against CNN to the power of greatest
Fear and Addiction
through the power of inversion
Lyricide
Copyright © ellyn peirson | Year Posted 2016
As Halloween approached,
a middle-age redhead,
working in a coffee shop,
boldly wore a spider pin.
It had a massive body
of ruby-colored glass,
and was, in subdued lighting,
as striking as her smile.
In that one adornment
of child-like abandon,
she loaned me a key
to a fluid dimension--
a sweet, hidden wellspring,
expansive, when tapped,
of all possibilities,
where young may be old,
and old may be young
where in the mortal struggle
against prosaic prudence
and tired perspectives,
bewitchment can prevail--
a phoenix from ashes--
in magical resiliency,
wondrous, warm, and winking.
Copyright © Carol Mays | Year Posted 2015
A is for an album to hold my stamp hoard,
B is for back of book where my “specials” are stored.
C is for the cancellation that causes such strife,
D is for definitives with their unlimited life.
E is for excitement, the thrill of the find,
F is for fiscal and its financial bind.
G is for the gum that sticks them in the post,
H is for the hinges displaying those I love most.
I is for imperforates, those joined with no holes,
J is for a Johfra box to soak off without bowls.
K is for a killer mark that destroys a stamp’s worth
L is for local stamps with a limited dearth.
M is for the magnifying glass used for searching out flaws
N is for the newspaper stamps that brought headlines to our doors.
O is for “officials” with a government cachet
P is for postage due when the sender fails to pay.
Q is for the Queen’s head on all British stamps
R is for retouches and forgers re vamps.
S is for a stockbook for stamps that are spare
T is for tweezers to handle them with care.
U is for unused, a stamp postally mint,
V is for variety, it has a fault in its print.
W is for watermark to prove authenticity
X is for xanthic spots, rust, that strikes without pity.
Y is for youngsters and encouraging their dream
Z is for Zemstvo a rare Russian theme.
To see a stamp thrown in the bin, now that is such a crime,
I’ll revere it in my collection making it sublime.
Written 1st March 2013 by Rachel Fawcett. I am a Trained Nurse by day and spend my time off collecting stamps and trying to write poetry. I haven’t been publicly writing very long and this is only the second poetry competition I've ever entered. I love writing as it stretches my imagination and I enjoy the challenge it brings. I love collecting stamps as they bring order to my mind.
Copyright © Rachel Fawcett | Year Posted 2013
Come in my little furry friend
And meet me face to face.
Someone will open up the door
While I step back a pace.
I feel my mouth all watery:
My face a grimaced frown,
And wonder how you’ll taste my friend,
While you are going down?
“It’s never going to happen;
My person laughs at me.
You can run them round the yard,
Or chase them up a tree.”
But, biting them and hurting them?
Oh no -- it’s not to be!
A squirrel is God’s creature too:
And meant to scamper free.”
So now I watch through slider pane:
It’s all that I’m allowed.
But just one squirrel at my door
Is one more than a crowd!
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre | Year Posted 2015
I was strewn
scattered wide
brooding foreheads of jagged stone
thirsty fragments
unfit for purpose
rugged - broken - lying alone
She - pure water
seeping in sand
dark and deep - unrequited and stilled
Her eternal spring
but a fearful trickle
Her destiny hidden - unfulfilled
Open earth!
a forested crevice
Shake - Tremble - Set her free
Release her flood
of secret desires
splashing joyfully over me
I will be
her playful bed
smoothing my edges - providence smiled
I will make her ripple
rushing with laughter
kissing her droplets - wet and wild
Cascading to
her lyrical rill
we'll sing forever - in our sacred stream
She is my lover
caressingly she runs
once worthless rubble - She did redeem!
gv For my lovely wife. Feb.19.2014
Copyright © george v. | Year Posted 2017
April 2012
A Vulnerable Existence
The world revolves round and round,
its direction, one way, future bound.
No matter where, what, when or how,
it followed that path, from the past until now.
Each person a footprint on the world as it revolves,
living for survival as the future unfolds.
Like a life line through our existence to an unknown place,
the momentum of time accelerating, as if life is a race.
If the human race didn’t exist, the future would still occur.
Survival is driven from the question “what do we exist for?”
Who knows the answer? No one can be sure.
Religion offers faith, strength and a moral guide that is pure.
However, we all have different theories and beliefs,
but this is often the source of conflict, suffering and grief.
Our world is more resilient than the human race,
no matter how much we destroy or scar Mother Nature’s face.
Maybe in time when our race fully evolves,
we will know why our world continues to revolve.
Unless as some theories suggest,
we destroy our world so we no longer exist.
Copyright © Laura Hay | Year Posted 2015
.
You were skipping stones
and as I watched
a slowly arching ripple
gently kissing the shore
I found myself wishing
I was that ripple
and you were that shore
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2016
What did you ever see in me
angel with no soul?
With lustful eyes and sensuous sighs
you made a heart your goal.
You searched to find another
to complete your twisted plan.
My heart wandered by too close
and was seized by your velvet hand.
I never needed company,
I was happy on my own.
My head was full of dreams and schemes,
my days well spent alone.
But I gave you what you asked of me.
How could my flesh resist?
And you turned my thoughts of ecstasy
to all fulfilling bliss.
Our days brought sheer delight to us,
with joyful revelry.
Our nights became a lover's truth
and you took the heart in me.
Entered in "Any Poem Not For A Contest, Ever" - Poetry Contest - Broken Wings
2nd place 5/15/2016 4:41:00 PM
Written 3/30/2016
Copyright © Francis J Grasso | Year Posted 2016
Birdfeeder raided
Squirrel stuffing with birdseed
Chickadee “dees” on
Copyright © JP Armstrong | Year Posted 2016
B names Birthdays you can't deny,
I spells Insipid to tell how they fly.
R sings Rest on your laurels today,
T says Taste your cake with no delay.
H gives History of birthdays till now,
D Dares to grab all that birthdays allow.
A taunts, "You are Aging too soon,"
Y stands to Yodel a birthday tune.
Birthdays come and birthdays go,
but you seem to stay the same
This time, however, you've reached
one to make you cringe in shame.
50 sounds so much older than 49
Now you'll be hearing all the time;
("May I see your discount card?")
being carded as when you hit 21
only you won't be having any fun.
You'll turn your back, and feign
you didn't hear that hated refrain
But hey, in today's sad economy
we will accept any paltry gain.
"Do you want the Senior menu?"
"With your Senior discount, that comes to . . . "
I've already had 25 years of that, so welcome to the club! You have officially crossed over into the fastest growing segment of the U. S. population, and have attained status as a certified member of The Seniors Club of America!
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
When I saw you there…
Standing like a Statue…
I cannot resist leaving you…
Without any information about you..
After sometime, we become friends…
Friendship that turned to love…
A deeper feeling…
That speaks what we felt for each other…
But then time broke our relationship…
Sadness, loneliness occurred in our heart…
For both of us now are separated…
Separated by a thing, which we don't expect to happen…
Then a miracle happened…
That makes us realize, that we are born for each other's sake..
That you as my beloved is born for me…
And me that I was born for you…
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2013
Brimming with echoes of their past
When I dream of theses places
I sometimes feel alone here
I look around me and all I see
Is a nothing a void in place
I should be happy and free
What is it that you tell me to do
Where is it that you tell me to go
Where I should go in this desert
Why should I stay in this desert
There is nothing for me there
I seek refuge out of all this mess
I seek out a friendly face to hold
A friendly face to hold me
To comfort me in sad times
And keep me from the cold
Cold dark damp places I see
Sad times of sorrow and grief
I choose to leave this place
Seek the road to happiness
Copyright © Debbie Duncan | Year Posted 2011
Nature abhors a vacuum.
It seems so do the kids.
Tumbleweeds roll through the room
On marks from soiled shoe skids.
You're home all day, you have no job.
Maybe try stepping up.
I earn my way, I'm not a slob.
Don't let the clothes pile-up.
My favourite thing when I come home
Is doing all your dishes.
That bathtub ring could use some foam.
The toilet bowl some swishes.
Brooms are not for flying.
Don't start to moan and pout.
Those dishes could use some drying.
Please take the garbage out.
Copyright © P L Ritz | Year Posted 2017
A simple piece of cloth
Square, rectangular, oblong
Soft blue, pink, green
Woven, nubby or smooth
It matters not
Cloth
Swaddling my infant babe
Cloth
In tatters
Bearing injuries honorably
Chewed, dragged, hugged
Kitty, bear or tiger
Cloth comes alive
In my toddler’s arms
Cloth
Stretched over table or chair
Tent, house or fire station
My busy lad
Creates an island of safety
So proud am I and is he
Cloth
At preschool
Comforting
Cuddled briefly
Stuffed quickly
Into a backpack
Forgotten in busy play
Cloth
Lying inert
Discarded
In an attic chest
Squatting
On the ground
My teen barely notices
Its displacement
His mind alive
New ideas
New destinations
New loves
Cloth over his marriage bed
Immaculately placed
Or rumpled, tossed, lost
Covering two
Sometimes three
Or more
Bills litter the surface by day
Crumbs hide within by night
A polka-dotted pattern
Tears of joy and sorrow
Aged now
Letting go
Of all
But this one piece of cloth
Grateful for its presence
Wrapping, wrapping
Boundaries fading
Cloth as a shroud
Returning his body
To its source
A blanket is never just a blanket....
Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2016
Seem your heart has frozen and your love you have taken,
breaking my heart taking my devotion, my time, and my emotions.
Leaving nothing but feelings of ice cold love.
Did I go wrong in giving you companionship,
Sharing laughter, joy, gladness, sorrow, and pain?
Did I love too soon, too deep, too humane?
My cold love, when did you get so frigid,
Is it when I whispered sweet words into your ear?
When I hug you tight and played in your hair?
When you laid in my lap and we peered into each other’s eyes,
where I saw forever for you and me?
I miss you my friend, my companion, my love,
Missing your arms around me, holding me sincere.
Your warm love draping my inner core,
making me feel so secure.
Cold love, will you not return to us,
to embrace, to bond, to share our sweet forevermore.
Copyright © Karen Edwards-Gregory | Year Posted 2016
Daddy's Little Daughter Grows UP
Mama some boy at school called me a dumb blond
And I hit him
He said blonds are only good for one thing
Can you believe that mama
I was furious, so furious mama
My father would have been so proud, so very proud
Of me if he were still alive
Mama, I hit him again
This time really, really good
I may have broken his nose
Or I least I hoped so
Mama get this,
He looked at me with those big brown eyes
Tears pooling
Mama I hit him again
He tried to say sorry
He was like a newborn puppy at my feet
Looking up at me with those floppy ears of his
With his tounge and tail wagging ... mama
And his voice stuck way down in his throat
So painful
So pathetic
So powerful I am,
I stood my ground to that bully, mama
Yes I did
Yes I did
Mama I hit him again
He said he was sorry, and this time I think he meant it
But I didn't care
He was crying uncontrollable
Unconditionally
I laughed
I blew him a kiss
I said if ever did that again, he would be very sorry
He tried to get up mama
Mama he tried to get up
And I raised my arms, as to hit him again
But I didn't
Our eyes met mama
I think he likes me
I could see the bruises on his face
But I was melting fast by his heat
Even in his worst disposition
He was magic, magnetic
He pulled my heartstrings
I like him mama
I really do
He's different
He's cute and funny
I know I'm only eleven
And boys my age only want one thing
But mama look at me, put those potatoes down
Mama look at me, put those potatoes down I said
This is important, mama
He asked me to go out to the school dance this Friday
Mama, I said yes,
Mama I said yes
My heart pounding
I'm happy
I'm going to the bunny hop with him
Yes I am mama
I know I'm only eleven
And boys my age only want one thing
But mama...listen
Mama he will be a gentlemen to me
You'll see
You can bet on that mama
You can bet on that
Yes you can
For this girl is nobody's mule
Dad would have been proud
connie pachecho
December 27, 2016
Copyright © connie pachecho | Year Posted 2016
Day Mind
Night Mind
A door is open.
Through the doorway,
I see a wall weakly
illumined.
A distorted shadow slouches,
menacingly along it.
I close my eyes,
my toes grip
the carpet.
I do not want to see,
what I despairimgly
believe will be,
the cause of
my demise.
Hot exhalation flows
over my face.
I fear it.
Surely it must
be the breath
of what I am certain
will do me harm.
Human nature activates.
My toes grip?
A surface hard.
I open my eyes.
I am on
the edge of
a canyon.
The heated air
is nature’s respiration.
I feel under me,
the ground backsliding.
I see the approaching
drop off.
I cannot resist the
movement.
I am suspended in space.
My toes grip?
Nothing.
I look skyward.
My body rotates,
and I am looking
at the Canyon wall.
I close my eyes.
My only defense,
not knowing,
when I will impact.
My toes grip?
Wet sand, the earth’s
breath is ocean fresh.
Roaring waves approach,
enveloping me.
Sea creatures surround me,
swimming intently, guided,
by internal apps,
downloaded at birth.
Finny predators nudge
my swirling torso.
I am rising.
Surfacing in a bath tub,
a rubber duck,
bobs in unison
with a toy boat.
I struggle out of
my fiberglass container.
The child I was
glares at me,
from a mirrored door.
Then steps into the room,
and shoves me.
Stumbling backwards,
I grab a rope,
and swing into,
an aluminum tree forest.
All the
owls, sound like
Santa Claus.
Multi-color pine cones,
hang glistening, with
fake frost.
My logic app,
responds to challenge,
my senses.
Impossible situation alerts,
detours further
dream distortions.
In my mind,
one more apparition.
A charcoal whale,
inhales the output
of my Night Mind.
My Day Mind
exudes endorphins.
Soothes me awake,
validating it was
all a purging,
of the tensions
of the past day.
Bizarre encounters,
Carrying away,
mental poisons.
Copyright © Kieran Pavlick | Year Posted 2017
Hush! say nothing son.
Suffer his sins silently.
Silence is golden.
Copyright © Ross Blade | Year Posted 2016