Written: August 4, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Constance La France
Quote: "A pensive poet looks around and stays where quiet deepens, accumulating shards of what is felt but never expressed until even sadness finds a tongue." By Poet
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The dusk leans in, and rests upon the hill,
A quiet weight that sinks into my chest.
I walk the worn-out path, half-lost, half-still,
Letting memories rise at their behest.
The sky grows pale and folds into the trees,
Its silver fading through the cooling air—
I pause, as though the hush were meant to ease,
the restless thoughts I never learned to share.
A distant light begins to warm the stone,
A soft light that moors a wandering mind.
I am in the dusk, no longer alone—
And feeling the calm that time left behind.
My muse may wane, but leaves me all her heart.
Silken oracle flame might forge fair art.
Tissues found where shadows begin
Orts of sorts and a bobby pin
Gem clip slipped under hutch nearby
Dust accumulating by and by
Under the couch, as far as I know
A lost sock — hey, that’s where they go!
Leaves leaving trees that somehow sneaked in
Relics of bygone years that cause us to grin
Watching the World Cup with guests on the floor
I’m so glad I vacuumed — I’ll say it once more!
Once contented with simple things;
cupcakes, puppies, a gentle friend.
Before too long, they flee...
Pursuing independence and tin-can peace.
Vowing never to be like their parents
but they are.
Accumulating babies-disappointment-many meaningless things.
Peace always fleeter than the pursuers.
Some return home, bloodied, bruised
confused and disillusioned.
The cupcakes-puppies-that gentle friend
are gone.
The streetlights cast a yellow glow against the darkening evening. I pull my collar higher against the bite of the wind, the kind of cold that promises change. Overhead, the sky is a heavy, bruised violet, ready to burst. And then, it begins—not a downpour, but a tentative, silent drift. Individual crystals, each a fleeting architectural miracle, unique from one another, begin their slow descent from the sky to the frozen ground. The world around me starts to soften, hard edges blurring under a gentle, accumulating lace. My breath forms tiny clouds in the crisp air as I catch a single, perfect star on the tip of my glove, a transient visitor from the heavens, a small piece of silent magic.
sky slips first snowflake
like frosting on a cupcake
liquid world keepsake
The wind speaks to us in whispers or roars-
accumulating unbalanced scores!
_ by Poet
Listen to the wind, as it speaks to us-
in a tiny whisper or an explosive rush.
Grasp what it foretells as it swishes by.
The wind's calm or violent moods can ease or crush.
A whispered breeze can cool the summer heat,
caressing us in a soothing, uplifting way,
as we find joy in its relaxing touch
beneath the sun's blaze on a hot and humid day.
Conversely, though, the wind can take a turn
to power local storms or those formed out at sea;
howling and churning- pushing giant waves
and signaling the tragic scene we can foresee.
We hear wind growling when it reaches land.
As a hurricane, it speaks fear along the path.
Trees, structures, and life- tumble by its force,
while the angry wind howls, vocalizing its wrath.
A force, gifting pleasure or horrid pain
from a kind whisper, stormy day, or hurricane!
Listen to the wind, as it speaks to us.
Alice embraced the warmth
of the bitter-sweet liquid concoction
Curiosity of "drink me" caused this
Swirls began to know no limits
Ground twisting and breaking
The sky accumulating thick constellations
Up through the opening of what appears to be a magical mist
Alice wonders what this is
Quickly, the world changed, or was it Alice
Entering what seemed similar to Saturn
Alice meets a being small and strange
With green and orange scaly skin
Lue is the name
Together, the creature and Alice met many others
How did I find a world of such wonders
Tarnished, cracked, and parched without your love.
Oh, why hast thou forsaken my devotion?
Your impulsivity led to my demise, accumulating dust among disused collections.
WORDS
I have accumulating wealth for I have the gift of words.
They're a treasure unto myself in my expanding universe.
Words have the power to wound or heal; it is a well-known fact.
They determine how we think and feel, then finally how we act.
There's a huge supply and a great demand
For words of hope in our storm-tossed land.
People are searching for a reason to live.
Have we comforting words to give?
Whatever you believe then speak with your mouth
Will come to pass, without a doubt.
Your words determine your destiny.
So, speak words of life and be blessed indeed!
(c) L. Gayle Carter
Wilting petals of pain fall from icy branches,
while deer frolic under the flickering amber porch lights,
glowing on fresh powder accumulating in the coldest of nights.
I grab my throw resting in front of the roaring fireplace,
wrap it around my aching shoulders,
and sit by the frosted window panes,
sipping just one more glass of whiskey.
I feel the smooth burn run down my scorched esophagus.
It will be dawn soon, yet sleep eludes my weary bones.
I reach for my phone but remember no one will answer,
so I chat with my fleeting shadows
as the weight of loneliness presses heavier than usual.
The snow comes in waves now,
crystal clear, then everything whites out,
reminding me how invisible life can become.
Still nursing that glass of whiskey,
I turn on the radio—nothing but static.
So, I drift away into intoxicated delusions,
playing tricks with my sanity.
Cabin fever sets in,
as this perpetual arctic despair becomes my lacrimosa.
Brand new Rolex watch!
A gift from her best friend
One day it just stops working
so she has to take it in
Watchmaker says, "Not worth it,
the flat Cyclops proves it's fake"
This news is so upsetting
She cries out, "For goodness' sake!"
Fighting first-date jitters
her boyfriend reads a poem
Adds, "You inspire me to write,"
Assures, "I wrote it on my own"
When she shares the poem with friends
several laugh, "You didn't know?"
"It's AI-generated!"
She screams, "AI AI No!"
When her boyfriend pops the question
she quickly answers, "Yes!"
Large diamond ring, so pretty
She is very much impressed
As she takes it for appraisal
she presents the ring with glee
When she asks about the 4Cs
Jeweler simply says, "CZ"
She wonders why in life
she can never catch a break
A Rolex watch, a lover's poem,
a diamond ring, all fake ...
Focusing on thoughts more mindful
reminds her of what real life means
Helping people is more important
than accumulating things
Ratman is busy
so very busy
spending most of his free time
accumulating things
building his nest from life's little messes
he works hard
so very hard
to keep family on the dime
His mind is always on the tight wire.
Ratman is an actor
a very fine actor
primping his hair
memorizing his worn lines
but nobody cares
nobody cares.
Now he's built a great nest
at the greatest expense
but the cats aren't impressed
licking their paws -
sniffing for weakness.
The Ratman is bleeding
the Ratman has bled
nobody noticed him
all balled up in his loneliness
of his great paper nest.
the Ratman is dead
the Ratman is dead
nobody came to lay him to rest.
Not even his kids.
My taut pen scratched paper on
paper--- speaking to you among
tangles of weeds, a wailing through
love-filled notes kneading pain and longing;
Envelopes devoid of a zip code, of
stamps, rimmed by spider webs.
Tell me now , can I bear the weight
pinned by unfinished drafts
inhabiting our room?
Your wool jacket dangles tonight
on a hook accumulating debris
and stale mint,
while spring floods our garden
with radiant foliage--
Papyrus of my ardorous thoughts
lay on deserted tables,
and I'm orphaned...alone by myself.
Why is it so cold over here?
Is it the frost in my chest or the chill in the air?
All these hurdles are grueling to bear.
With the warmth of the sun still above my head, pain breaks into the holes and spreads everywhere.
Seeping through the soul and into the mind, the chills swirl around the corner, accumulating tears and despair.
Hopes and desires succumb to the potent and slowly disappear.
With fingers crossed and prayers unheard, I often retire to opt for a smile to wear.
Tears hide deep beneath, with a smile deceiving the reality and proving it's not a nightmare.
Happiness has a price here that is too hard to spare.
As roads lead to an unknown path and my soul yearns for known peace, I have nothing more to share.
Why is it so cold over here?
No, it is not because of the atmosphere.
It's the frozen stare of my future self still living in uncertainty and despair.
Why?
It's even colder here.
I'm not aging, I'm accumulating wisdom!
FROSTY
Frosty the snowman, the hero of the song
Fired from his winter job, as he always got it wrong
Found a job in Florida, cooking burgers on the hob
No longer a snowman, with his new hot summer job
A soulful look in those eyes of coal, sadness was complete
He soon had lost so much weight, a puddle round his feet
After one shift he was fired again when his hat he tried to doff
One serving even got a carrot when his nose fell off
There was so little left of him as he made his way back North
Snowbirds were quite different, travelling back and forth
He made the Canadian border, accumulating snow
Hoping that, given time and cold, his body may re-grow
But up into the mountains, it was so bitter cold he froze
So now he’s a national statue that everybody knows
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