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thank you dear soupers for participating in my contest...this is my re-opening salvo after being off soup for years.

those of you who know the drill, I do not give HMs...from my POV ( point of view), HMs are consolation prizes without any significance... if I am correct, admin does not grant a winning point for a poem which garners such title...

I understand that other hosts have their own judging style and would like to give HMs to participants...rightly so, this is their much honored perogative.

I limited my list to a certain number, but allow me to acknowledge the following for their beautiful offerings---Paula Goldsmith and Lin Lane...hats off, guys!

although rules and criteria must be observed, you are all winners in my heart ... there will be more journeys for us to undertake, hence, keep those poetry pages burning...I'll see you around the hallways of Soup...

you are all awesome!

Classic lanterns hanging on poles

Road Trip

logging a hundred miles
old camper now rusted---
each reverie...a tear
eyes moonless torn by nights; 
frazzled rites of youth's trysts ,
were never just ...road sprees

introspectionjourneyverse

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Lyric Man

May 15, 2025 at 7:31 AM

Nette, you create an endless muse from a sparse salting of words. I detect that the rusty old camper is not made of metal, but skin & bones, and emotions & memories. Memories from long ago, poignant thoughts that come back in waves. Thoughts perhaps linked to pain.. and I'm left to wonder because the writer keeps it dark and philosophical..

Lyric Man

May 15, 2025 at 7:30 AM

Part 2: is there a lonesome and unforgiving sadness because the tryst was more than trips, or perhaps in youth the camper thought such trips would never end. Did the camper miss love while chasing the next adventure.. oh, the delightful muse the reader is left with!