Written: March 22, 2025, for contest sponsored by Craig Cornish
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In the heart of my kitchen spices exude their aromatic allure
a harmonic blend of flavors coddiwomples mute grief. . .
cimmerian saudade in emeritus pickles, a nostalgic taste
longing for a whiff of jasmine s p e c k s. . .
the acridity of blue cheese, the poignancy of bygone days. . .
lavender aromas snip from vessels of proclivity
hidden under an ominous cloud of r e m o r s e
on par with brimstone-soaked steam,
harmony strives to alleviate concealed pain
pleading palms to purge passed-over prose
as seclusion seeps still as a slow-spreading sickness…
Scathed by sadness solitude simmers silently,
In this mixture, marvelous magic manifests for mending
spicy ambrosial nuances partake in a gracious w a l t z
pain intermingling with delight
a buffet embellished with dishes of acrid herbs,
the core character intertwines with previous fails
textures and fragrances intertwine
to create a tapestry rich in pain and d e l i g h t,
harmonizing sadness and joy in life's tangled web.
Categories:
acridity, analogy, appreciation, poetry,
Form: Free verse
LAST SUPPER
Why should I join your table!
Why should I intoxicate myself with,
Your costly wine you flaunt with false splendor,
But in it you slip a dose of lethal laughing toxins?
One would laugh and laud your generous tenacity!
Yet, with that fake giggle,
In the sunken gleaming eyes of a snake,
You seethe inside!
We were a number but, the undertaker claimed a few!
Am I the only black sheep that feels the froth?
Or is everyone’s heart blackened with drops of seeping venom?
That corrodes the lips and you wipe the evidence?
And now you that you noticed my awareness,
You turn the table for bile to flow from my quarter
A good Samaritan, you’ll offer gallons to quench the raging fire
And offer empathy to cure my irking ire!
You can burn my stiff but you won’t my soul!
I will count the grains of sand in all beaches of the pacific,
But to your corrupt course,
I shall never crawl! Keep your mercy!
Every day you count a loss of a player in this team,
And blame their frivolous folly!
Holy saints you are, but the acridity of bile will burn y’all,
When reckoning of hypocritical is finally done!
Categories:
acridity, anger, anti bullying, betrayal,
Form: Free verse
putridity rhymes with acridity
for the same reason that
tumidity rhymes with turgidity
and tepidity is to vapidity
as solidity is to rigidity
'course, all this has no validity
~ 'til they check my lucidity
Categories:
acridity, crazy, word play, words,
Form: Monorhyme
And then we fan the flames to such a height, they glow bright, acridity burning our eyes.
But so easily we forget the reasons as to why; we, we are stuck blind.
Still we chuck embers, blow hot the coals. We throw torches unto tattered cloth, we empty oil unto souls.
We inhale the rising tarry smoke, and oh how we choke.
And gag.
And burn all the more.
For in that one moment as the fumes flocculate - coalesce - we cultivate this pretend hate; we destroy ourselves to sate the proclivity to agitate.
But as the cloying oil seeps into our cores; as we dig through skin to reach the bones; I wonder when, through tearing, we'll grasp our slickened souls?
And if then, will we find the lucency we've lost; the clarity we threw to feed the roaring flames?
Because the fire has raged and left only dying light. And ashes cannot be reborn into mankind, if belief has stuttered and already died.
So tell me how will I preserve my ashes tonight?
Please, I need to.
Please, I...
I'm...
I...
You.
Categories:
acridity, anger, conflict, confusion, forgiveness,
Form: Free verse
Bitter Truths
How much of bitterness is truth we cannot swallow.
The acridity of words held idle for too long, fermenting
in the cauldron of conceit, the spoils of victory flaunted
in feigned servility. What scales measure life against
life, gain against greater gain, success against success?
Can we not savor the sweetness of another’s gifts
without coveting them, bathing them in our envy,
sullying them with our rancor? Could we not applaud
the valor and perseverance of the triumphant, revel
in a rivalry well played, tip our equally soiled cap,
nod in an appreciation of a job well done?
Must the fist of failure pummel all who do not win,
remove the joy of competition’s camaraderie,
negate the lessons learned, the hours shared,
diminish the successes in setting and
eclipsing goals and gains. Does not the acrid stench
of final gun fade, slowly drifting on a passing breeze?
Why must the truth hold bitter still, unable to accept
the success in every failure and the failure in
disparaging success.
John G. Lawless
1/17/2014
Categories:
acridity, education, school, sports, success,
Form: Prose Poetry
Of a holocaust, the last redemption;
like a spirit
rising from its body at the end,
the earth ascends to heaven
and for a moment steals infinity
and artfully inserts it
into everyday.
Beyond that vain acridity,
it is the dying
that unites the earth and sky.
This transitory brotherhood
with fog and mist and cloud
now tints the air
as one amorphous curtain drifts
to make the known surreal.
And out of chaos
comes another harbinger
of paradise.
~
Categories:
acridity, death, earth,
Form: Free verse