Lin Lane and Sandra Haight
Brilliant artists, both paint to bring sheer delight - be it words or pictures.
Vincent Flannery and Gordon McConnell
My brothers in Christ whose words are filled with God's might.
Eve Roper
Prayerful lady who spins lovely stories with poetic fantasies.
Connie Marcum Wong and Sunshine Smile
Dear friends who spread cheer all around with their pens.
Victor Buhagiar
His hope-filled free verse none can beat, his kind words fills me with joy replete.
Teppo Gren
Beautiful sonnets fill his page and he's always ready to encourage.
Silent One
His deep deducings speak aloud in the form of 'simple musings'.
Daniel Turner
A great friend, a humble poem-churner; his book would sure be a page-'turner'.
John Hamilton
His Awesome Mind-boggling Inspiring Lyrics Tell Of (his) Natural ability.
Walter T. Ashe
His rhythmic writes are some of the best, ''where is he now?'' - that's the quest.
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01.11.16
Categories:
churner, appreciation, friend, tribute,
Form: Free verse
Mountain Of Mango Ice-Cream
It seems ages since we were young and untamed, enjoying rural pleasures
Summers were long and mango ice-cream sessions a ritual in the evenings
A thin custard was made of fresh buffalo milk and mango pulp was added
A thin mango custard mother made which was cooled and poured in
A cylindrical container with a churner and she fixed it in a half wooden barrel
Dad hammered large ice blocks and we excitedly added handfuls of rock salt
Turn by turn we rotated the iron handle atop till hands tired as it became firmer
Mom knew exactly when it was done and sometimes she said a little more
We had our huge steel glasses to binge upon but envied the one who rotated more
The central rectangular churner that gathered the most to slurp upon was his
It was like a mountain of mango ice-cream before us and we never tired of it
We got many scoops piled over our glass brims which were spooned off magically
The mango ice-cream aroma was everywhere as we joked and sat around till late night
Sadly the mango ice-cream doesn't taste the same, it has lost its rural familial flavour
October 27, 2015
Contest: Trashed #3
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Categories:
churner, children, farm, father, fun,
Form: Sonnet
Eyes wider than
Sequoia trunks growing outside.
Like the tumultuous ocean
I lay.
Restless.
Without hope of the Churner
Ever stopping.
My thoughts are no more
Ordered and calm
Than I.
War torn lesions
In my mind
Where good thoughts
Once stood.
And so battered are my eyes...
So worn the highways
Of my mind.
Like the ruins of Babylon
And the devastations of Gettysburg,
Chaotic silence swept over me.
Then that too -
Ceased to exist.
Categories:
churner, confusion
Form: Free verse