A stretched gloaming tethers creation in a
daystar's wake ... askew parts The Old Guitarist
ebbing lambent stars strung to a yarn of spring ...
'Tis the volley of calendrical crasis
poised to a youthful Einstein that subtracts from
the sum and substance whence summer makes a splash ...
The advent of an enchanting star dulls a
chant that the Khanate only stains upon its
Golden Horde smolders beneath befriending clouds ...
A whiff that slights Aurelius' bearings yet
still trifles a chalk absence to the presence
of cheese that embellishes the languid tracing ...
The shallow space of bards decreed a crowning
flock of teary favoring san tissues of
lissome verdancy choral ode vibrant charms ...
Worshipped effervescent microscopic dew
bringing into being just one bell prayers
bearing fruits of promise in globule water ...
Petrichor emanates to a hoverance
wisp claim as wandering brevity stands still
amidst a sonder of souls ventured threshold ...
Gold beams glimpsed a bevy coup of a vast crest
as the dripping stalled in evaporating
stares chase a clinked rainbow flaunts with ... creation.
Ten.
Ten years, I've been scared,
fearing the phone's ring.
Twenty.
Twenty years, I was,
learning how goodbye really felt.
Thirty.
Thirty years, I reached,
forty-four days ago.
Forty.
Forty, my brother was,
for fifty-seven days.
That's all he got...
and that feels like all for me.
I'm terrified, I'll admit.
Every knock on the door,
every surprise text or call,
every "hey" I wasn't expecting.
Each corner hides a death,
each day a loss on the table,
Russian Roulette be damned.
The calendar is loaded - play.
So don't call me strong.
I'm petrified, and I'll face the grief,
as I always have,
but I won't face you.
I'm running, without shame,
from contact, from laughter,
from making me feel.
My response, proudly, is to hide.
So call me what you will -
save strong.
That just reminds me -
that I have received no choice.
Thirty-three percent.
A third of my life -
looking over my shoulder.
Which do I run out of first -
fortitude, or friends?
The calendar is loaded...
no choice but to play.
*Image of Inscriptive Elements by Pixabay.
Plain Truth: Christmas
HARK, a majestic consequence proves itself,
bribing through a period that steads neath calendrical overcast skies.
Nowadays, the calamity of Christmas,
where the whole of Japan celebrates,
yet one percent of Japanese observe the Christian faith.
THUS, is the way of other faith followers, seemingly,
celebrating Christmas in some sort of way, shape, or form.
Twas, naught the climate that animates the Christmas ambiance,
though numbers may dissent,
otherwise, amidst such a sentiment.
ALAS, a fertile carpet neath a well-lit Christmas tree that is burrowed,
and richly rooted amongst enwrapped gifts.
Fragmented o'er time, delusional reasons immersed in grand splendor,
and naught be the event of long ago.
HEED, our fabled times a-changing,
toward a materialistic realm,
motivates giving and receiving as we trade in our faith at a cost.
TRUTH, faithful quantities have dwindled,
and beliefs momentarily fluctuate,
during the Christmas time of year.
2020 November 28
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND Libre Vers
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 11
R esolutions occasion themselves optimally at the start of a new year
E very new calendrical chart anew page in our lives of things fretted over
S ome are constant challenges interwoven with more current examples
O thers will be pondered over time and again throughout coming days
L abourious test and trials are then faced head-on painstakingly daily
T ediously we would persevere and press onward to greet with a smile
I n retrospect many were made capriciously and thus fall on the wayside
O nly a few, if any, we will be successful of going over the hurdle victoriously
N umerous would certainly fail and some met will also filter in as failures
S o that is the usual outcome of resolutions whereto we save that for next year
2020 January 24
Resolutions Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
We traverse the annuals since our youth, from a trek out the door and home to some floor, ere twilight dethrones from its crown, and bequeath it to the dominating dawn, my will-o-the-wisp does admit me into its innovative prime time,
Wherein, we sever out our preceding year of its difficulties and distress, and gift this current sequence amidst healthier days and to a greater contented life, admittedly, with our ablest foot foremost, we scale our calendrical passage amongst prosperity and efficiency,
These appropriate purposes remain considerably beneficial and welcomed by us, furthermore, we pray for the safety and security of our country and the world as a whole, and allow the flags of freedom rise high, and the flags of darkness disperse forever.
2020 January 03 *2nd Place*
New Year Dreams Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
At the heels of a blessed consequence, spurs unpredictable fervency that is extremely engrossing, it perplexes conscionable determinations, concerning exhausting heydays of a celebratory stretch, that radiates from an unfathomable receptacle, wherever, wrapped gifts stead itself in anticipatory sensation, to collect and concentrate, then it will undividedly precede, o'er a decisive menacing expectant eve, plus, simultaneously surrender joyously, amidst an agreeable, explosive, color-filled night sky finale.
calendrical charms
thoughtless and thoughtful gifts coaxed
colorful glowed eve
2019 December 15
December or January Haibun Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
Howmanysyllables;
5,7,5