Quote by Matthew Henry: What we count the ills of life are often blessings in disguise.
2nd in This or That, Vol. 31 (Sponsor: Edward Ibeh)
Judged: April 7th, 2025
8th in 2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 11 (Sponsor: Mark Toney)
Judged: August 29th, 2025
We quarreled to bitter, burning degrees (you)loving me as a tender trespasser a chew toy boy demanding compliance forced feedings down to sock selection (your)conspicuous usage of chlorine blistering eyes a woman my mother may have idolized (your)disciplined hemlines entirely circumspect subtracting the abusements how (your)words struck, in the rage of an enemy fire and less, the undisturbed lust after hog's feet I was heading for America a better sow to plow with spangly blue eyes and ruddy virtue brimming inside her countenance out of the despicable cold, The harpy's fury (you)poked at my shortness magnified my retardations I was a crouching slug in (your)supercilious shadows Understanding I couldn't swim as all the world knows any banal fact for example, water is wet and a million times (your)augur's ball pronounced death by sea little legs shall not be inclined to desert the scalding Egyptian sands was it (your)psychosis or mine ... doubts dressed as destiny? I missed the exodus of the unsinkable ship. The Titanic horn tolled whilst she distanced, the mocking tintinnabulation of elegiac bells.
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2025
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