Mist moved over the river flats,
beading cobwebs along the fence.
By dusk, raindrops gathered
and danced in the dust,
each small impact
summoning a hundred more.
By dawn, their bright insistence
drummed on every roof,
swelling down into the river
until it forgot its banks.
Freed from its borders,
the flood rushed to the lowest point—
the open cut.
It crossed the service road,
slipped past rusted gates,
and filled the excavation.
It lifted the warning signs,
worried black silt from the seams,
carried the company’s name away.
As the rain slowed,
a wetland took shape,
mirroring the sky—
a chorus of warbling and croaking fills the air.
the stakes are soaring
sweat beading down my temple
it's time: red or black?
Of a cause still not known,
if tomorrow my eyes have not shown,
you will hear this ballad at your table.
I have long since been tightening the cable,
wrapping it around my neck like a dog,
my hands raised to the heavens, begging god.
For I am but a slave to thought,
thinking of all the horror I've brought,
They claim its hallucination but I know what I see.
Inconvenience when they know where to be,
a stone in the flow of all's life,
a fool who could not fathom their strife.
To & Dear those who are reading,
my heart is in my throat, sweat beading
as I write what I know may be my last words
I apologise if it feels like Arthur had multiple swords.
My final draft in seconds, my mind apart,
I beg you to abandon my bleeding heart.
sultry days, Summer sun
budding breasts, bikini
a pre-teen flower blooms
tan skin, baby oil shine
misty water beading
making sweet rainbow dreams
Some Kind Of Misty poetry contest Sponsored by Nette Onclaud July 5, 2025
You open your mouth and music happens.
Like talking became this melodic symphony of beats and rhythms.
Like the wire running the length of the microphone stand became a judicial right.
Every note, every beat, every hook.
You caught me hook, line, and sinker.
You had every right to, up there.
Lights in your eyes and sweat beading down your face,
And for a moment, I saw angels reflecting their flimsy wings in your pupils.
And for even shorter a moment, I regretted ever letting you near a microphone in the first place.
Regretted every song I heard you sing to a room full of people that wasn't me.
It's so easy to hear the flow of water from your teeth, when it's shaped like a 4/4 chord.
I wish it was always that easy to hear you sing.
But sometimes you remind me of when I was little, and I used to dance around the living room standing on my fathers toes.
Quite the obstacle, your lyrics have become to me.
A bit too hard to hear, a bit too hard to ignore.
I'm older than I was then.
But your songs have stayed the same.
Why don't I stay?
Why don't you sing some more.
Maybe I will.
Clarion calm sea
right before thunder;
A man wave boarding,
teens sit catching rays;
An emerald gleams;
No sweat beading
on my iced drink;
Time moves gently,
I am spellbound;
Waves fly up
choppy, bright;
A storm rise;
The tide’s
moods swing
big.
She Walks in, Beauty in motion, Bright as sunlight,
Melting in that smile, Drowning in those eyes
Falling, I might be, Thinking of no other, Waiting for the moment
Longing that this is real, Despair that this is not, Doubting the possibility
Waiting for a moment, Hoping this is true
Pulse quickens, Sweat beading, Heart pounding
Stomach in knots, it hurts, Hands shaking, Voice stumbles
The words tumble from my dry mouth
She turns red, covers her face
And then she leaves, nothing added
Oh, what did I do?
What did I say?
I apologise, she responds
It's not clear and I can't see
Well, what's said can't be unsaid
Was I brave or a fool
I know a truth
She tried to spare my feelings
Which made it worse.
It could have been me, but not this time.
Lady bug water drop boogie
Wha wha wha wha wha woogie
Sliding down the slick verdant fern
The little one yells “let me take a turn!”
Lady bug water drop boogie
Wha wha wha wha wha woogie
Bubbles beading up into pretty dew
I love this fairy dance – how about you?
The daughter of a professional seamstress, I am a tactile learner,
I have to feel the possible fabric to make a decision.
If it is rough like linen or denim, I am not a fan.
I like flowing soft, pliable easy materials
Unless I am trying to sew them together
Slick and elusive, velvet, satin and silk fabrics are difficult to maneuver.
And you have to make sure all of the cuts are made in the same direction.
Shiny pieces with beading or rhinestones intrigue and interest me,
But I rarely wear them as they are stiff, hot and uncomfortable.
Plaids are a nightmare to piece together; worse than matching wallpaper.
My twin sister buys fat quarters and makes beautiful quilts.
Her luxury hobby is sewing, she spends hundreds of dollars on it.
I run from a sewing machine in every direction.
Homemaking was a chore, I wanted to take woodworking.
In highschool, my mother used to rip out most of my seams at night,
so I had to start over in the morning.
Mom wanted everything made out of fabric to be perfect.
She was a professional, but this discouraged me.
When I need to create I cartoon, paint or write. I do not sew.
Each tiny movement was a reminder of the share.
We had a bit of grandma’s warm quilt, chocolate in the air.
Mom’s making hot cocoa, I told my sis, with marshmallows I think.
We were happy to be here, wearing matching socks of pink.
My sister was reading a book but kept talking a bunch.
Whether or not she liked it, was a stretch, but I had a hunch….
It was not her favorite book, for she was ready to stop reading.
We ended up with Christmas cookies with frosting and beading.
Calm your frayed nerves, dry beading brow
You’ve reached the end, now time can cease
How we got here, don’t ask me how
Calm your frayed nerves, dry beading brow
Accomplished as much as days would allow
Your loose ends are tied, be at peace
Calm your frayed nerves, dry beading brow
You’ve reached the end, now time can cease
Fermented in farenheit the sizzle is way too hot
Creeping up the backside beading up in that spot
Shallow is the pool of fear where the drips do lie
Bashful red is the color skin appearing shy
Shakes tremble up and down bumping up the skin
The color that's coming around derives from the sin
Shame has come without context or so it seems
Reality you visualize nightmares before the dreams
Innocence mirrors guiltiness so sad but it is true
This in which does reflect the real person that is you...
bmdavey@10//05/2022
I sit here, waiting for a thought to help me
A blank mind, a blank sheet of paper
I firmly grip a long pencil, squeezing it tightly,
Silently hoping and praying that I make it out alive
Suddenly, I begin to remember the answer,
But as soon as I entertain the thought,
It slips away like a snake
Slithering out of my mind
Realizing that I am on my last minutes
I take in a deep breath and close my eyes
Then, I exhale
Finally hearing the ring of a bell
I arise and hand my sheet to a silhouette,
Walking past me like a ghost
My face left as pale as the white sheet I had,
Sweat beading my forehead while I exit the room,
Leaving behind my anxiety
I start to chuckle, as my head is filled with the answers I needed,
Too late did it come to me.
The small thin blade called to my soul once more
One two three four, for each that I’ve never been good enough
It beads quickly this time I suppose this time was enough to go deeper
It calmed my haggard soul only for a moment then it flooded back
Don’t be you, conform, be submissive or be gone
Keep the pain from him. Draw the life from yourself
Three more lines as if by magic beading up brain slipping into delusional euphoria
Smearing the red and the copper scent floating up reeling me back to reality
Time to clean so innocence does not see.
Death again does not come for this soul tonight,
No control had this evening by a tortured soul,
The blade sliced so easily through the pale skin,
Very little pain dealt to handle the pain felt,
Blood beading so slowly, like the gathering of morning dew,
That copper scent flooding the senses, calming the soul,
Start feeling the calm wash over the soul, it wonders
How can something that others look down upon,
Be so very soothing to one's fears and woes.
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