Written: January 22, 2026 For Gregory Richard Barden's Syncopated Cinqopet Poetry Contest
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By nightfall, gentle winds all blow,
The bright stars soar with cheerful flow.
The dreaming world at last does glow,
Soft pulses in silence wait.
The crave curbed, not fully sate.
Beneath the thin sky, the pond lies,
Where wispy reeds in languor size.
Below the waves, soft songs arise,
Lands where all its grace does dwell.
Where bliss drifts through silent swells.
An echoing palimpsest drifts.
As fancied rhythms weave all their gifts,
And cloud and clod do gently shift.
In nexus threads - web is spun.
Day gives way to setting sun.
The clangor fades to whispers mild,
A spell that calms the troubled mind.
No cure stands firm; balm reconciled,
Its core is still held through time.
In sighs, longing turns sublime.
Through hubris, catharsis takes form,
A rakish truth the tongue won’t norm.
From day is born, the rising storm,
Quintessence of time makes chime.
A bell tolls through wretched time
Tag: Elysium
Written: September 29, 2025, for contest sponsored by Tom Wood
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I) Sojourn of the Alabaster Mind
I careen through a world of chatoyant light,
Each step is a mirror of halcyon lore.
The pavonine sky and a chimera flight,
Projects sage shadows on an Elysian shore.
A clamor of atlas, a ductile tickle
Elixir of wonder, still need to fickle—
To pursue the penumbra, to not be blind,
And a sojourn for the alabaster mind.
II) The Necrotic Hour
I maunder across the clangor of despair,
A stertorous breath in the stygian gloom.
No nepenthe soothes within egregious snare,
Each cough is a pyrrhic echo in my room.
The airhead mocks my once-mellifluous breath
My Oculus dims in sudden fever death.
No eloquence lives in this loathsome abyss—
My nemesis: the sickness can't be sheer bliss.
There’s a constant hammering
Alongside my bedroom window
Repercussions of a corrupt gutter
The maddening drain
Obstinately and persistently has refused
All rehabilitation efforts
There are no
drip drip drips
Only
Pound Pound Pounds
As water clashes with wood and metal
The clangor must be amplified
By a loudspeaker
To make such minute water drops
Sound like a crazed gongsman
Locked in a metallic chamber with a battle mace
With no distinct pattern
The piercing pattering
Thwack Thwack Thwacks
Proclaiming,
“You will find no peace here!”
And yet
Its constant monotone irritation
Somehow
Lulls me to sleep
Don’t know what love is but I know what it isn’t
Trying to hold onto something reminiscent
Anger, malice, and strife
Words cutting deeper than any knife
Fear creeping in and suffocating all logic
Replaying the past as if it’s chronologic
Picking up shards, bloody hands wrapped in cloth
Trying to drown out their intentional scoff
Empty apologies tossed at your feet
Like something you can’t return without a receipt
Repairing lost self esteem
Behind closed doors live things unseen
Patterns that are toxic
Gripped from the inside, can’t breathe, anoxic.
Feeling depleted
Trauma so deep seeded
Trying to escape the explosive anger,
slamming doors, and repeated clangor
Nightmarish grips on your heart
Leave you longing to depart
Feeling trapped in this dance
Fight or flight stance
Disassociate or try and negotiate
I long to break the vicious cycle
To one day have peace be the title
When Attis, in guise of maiden fair, did sing
Unto her comrades, lo, the thiasus stirred!
A cacophony of voices quivering,
The delicate tambourine, it did swell
With resonance, and hollow cymbals rang
With metallic clangor, whilst the nimble choir
Did hasten to fair Ida's verdant slopes
On fleetest foot. Concurrently, Attis,
In frenzy, gasping, led them onward, drumming
Through shaded groves, as wild heifer seeks
To flee the weighty yoke. The swift Gallae
Did follow in her wake, their footsteps swift.
And when, exhausted, Cybele's abode
They reached, wearied from their toil, they fell
To sleep, deprived of sustenance. Languid
Slumber veiled their eyes with drowsy waves;
The savage tumult of the soul gave way
To gentle rest.
:: 4000 BCE ::
"Beauty surrounds us, but usually we need to be walking in a garden to know it." Quote By Rumi
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Several tears, one after the other.
A sob wave pulls me forward in a gossamer haze.
unable to breathe—shivering with inure fear.
Why do feelings spiral out of grasp and ravel?
or worry keeps raging through my mind?
consider a world devoid of vestigial musings.
Complete silence; I am gasping for air.
wheezing, heart pounding, lungs screaming.
for breath, I cling desperately to the blankets.
My most arcane emotions flow unnoticed.
No lyrical ariose tunes to soothe my spirit.
in the lack of an auric metaphor
How would my day be lacking canorous poetry?
Clangor skin was covered in spiked tears.
Fingers rub my chimera, and eyes ensue.
Without poetry to calm, my anguish will burst
Without the cooling verses, I was crestfallen
Without a voice to express, how would I wish?
If artists believe that clay may depict furtive views,
Poets prefer paper and ink to immortalize their muse.
G or T Personification Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Joseph May
Written: August 22, 2023
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Deep in the typhoon of my maelstrom of anger.
I swirl in vile lunacy with a loud, sonorous clangor.
A reckless and unbridled pandemonium dance.
With wrath that growls such a hurricane's trance.
I recognize my sin and am beyond redemption.
Crawling over the foam, we still spurn the elation.
I am shameless—in uprooting majestic trees.
Crying with laughter as they fall to their knees.
My rage is unrestrained—my yell is obnoxious.
My unfurling may be spiteful to lead you nauseous.
I exact my vengeance on the meek and the humble.
Their dwellings cower—as I endeavor to crumble.
Shrapnel from broken glass flies everywhere.
Bringing delight to the masses with despair
Who dares to probe—my most shielded core?
They are doomed, in my eyes, to eternal sore.
I'm Typhoon—my heart's dark gulf is inert—a storm.
I don't care sense or pain—I wreck—I'm void of form.
While I'm unwinding—I won't bother with your fears.
My cyclonic anger leaves chaos, rampage, and tears.
Contest betwixt us friends had been common,
Who is who? Who, here, is a true lawman?
When two palms trees though compete to grow high,
They do not crush the common plants nearby...!
Don't, yet, serpents raise their hoods in anger?
Don't their pique sounds, like gongs, often, clangor?
Ladder and snake, a game we used to play,
We win, or, lose none ever nothing say...!
It's when we started our major business,
Within us arose, like froze ice, stiffness;
When he grew I fainted and vice versa,
Body ached; heart bound; veins stood like bursa...!
When I won he lost; when he won I lost;
In our functions, yet, both had been one host;
Like beet-root when I shoot he maintains mum,
Like onions, I too empty at his numb...!
20 November 2022
THE CRAP SHOOT #2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
I do not, even, erroneously think,
It's in infidelity that our life-boat did sink;
An infatuation might be; or like magnet,
A pull from east or west pole, got set;
The love that palm-tree-like I considered,
Got uprooted as though termite-eaten shed;
Was there, like within sand hidden, sword-like stone?
Did within in our smiles hide some bitterness unknown?
Wasn't life, like clear-stream, flawlessly flowing?
Why, minds, yet, recklessly, like tempests, blowing?
Never you seemed to show minutest of anger,
Why then, within this sudden noisy clangor?
Did I withhold any little of your self-esteem?
Or did I doom any of your highly-held dream?
Or, like men irresponsible, who neglect their duties,
Did I lack commitment in esteem your beauties?
Seasons raid; weathers invade; flowers fade;
Isn’t, yet, we bride and groom for each other made?
If hypocrisy prevails our hearts, let's not call it love;
Love is selfless and unconditional; gift from above...!
10 October 2022
Inspired by a song - Once There Was A Love Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: JCB Brul
A celebration was held by the Angels,
Heavenward late yesterday night.
And hide from the moon spirit labels,
Eyes staring in the twilight as first light.
They needed to escape animosity,
And stay away from bitter anger.
They took a dim moon with velocity,
I held my fun back with a sharp clangor.
The moon and heavenly body in the rearview,
They inspire a mad dash for the host star.
I am in the spirit realm of my bare gyps too,
Join the sun club and cross where you are.
Watch out for brimful smiles and sharp gazes,
How to hypnotize where sun is in a saffron blaze.
Straight hair and a toned body were striking,
It erodes and dulls, you can't view a liking.
A wicked beast hunts humans for their flesh,
She will do it again and the tale will start afresh.
Nobody was aware of her murderous tally,
Hundreds may have fallen into an alley.
And, as you slept quietly in that stance,
She sneaks into the kitchen, sing, and dance.
A steak knife was used to cut the meat,
She will slice your neck and kill you with conceit.
Written: October 15, 2022
Captivation Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
well
at last
after delay
bell poem form is here
recognised as new poem type
and so give it a go, in shape and mode
remembering to add clangor
clapper
ding
We pray to the honor tree in hopes we will gain some of its beauty, the gaunt and shaking world tends to aurify is edges.
We see his amort body a relic, sad for once a bel esprit.
We refuse to perceive the wrapped hands satisfying the longing of defenseless ankles.
We sojourn under the care of a corpulent manager, an egregious screecher, for his burdly lips a tunnel.
We ignore a clangor, he could foresee it would bring a caterwall springing through the fields of a rotting Seattle.
We are ebullient about the war we sense to come, for the coarse sleep in waiting is less than ideal.
We daren't condone his actions for we know he is capable of both it, and of less, and of better.
Serenading voices of snow geese thrum in the morning sky
Unrivaled is the clangor of their echoed gabbles in October
Songs of Fall ride on the wind as russet leaves begin to fly
Unrobed are trees; stripped bare, looking bereft and sober
Ripened are amethyst crops of corn and grains in the field
Rivaled by a soft golden glow of the gibbous harvest moon
Undeniably beautiful, when in October its glow is revealed
Seduced by its romantic luminance, lovers kiss and swoon
On All Hallow's Eve, I see scary costumed trick-or-treaters
Feasting on candy given by generous household greeters
Ode to October, there's a chill aloft, whispering in the air
Conspiring with Mother Nature in such a glorious season
This pleasant month arrives with a stir of festive fanfare
Offering a kaleidoscope of colors, and with good reason ~
Brushes in artists hands paint landscapes of Autumn days
Eagerly, I welcome those dazzling hues that seem to blaze
Rife with splendid riches, I chant October's songs of praise
~ October 2, 2020 ~
Pick-A-Title, Vol 23-Seasonal Acrostic Contest
~ Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh ~
Sunlight faintly broke through the clouds
Waves churned with loud clangor on the sea
Fog flowed in a winding river down to the shore
I was lost in pensive thoughts, toes dredging sand
I was lost in pensive thoughts, toes dredging sand
Fog flowed in a winding river down to the shore
Waves churned with loud clangor on the sea
Sunlight faintly broke through the clouds
August 14, 2020
Mirror Mirror Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Lawless
The tower’s high with striking chime
its clangor resonates.
With face of time now widely seen
clock’s scene thus viewed dictates.
Its dial white looks free of grime
new cleaning time awaits .
Loud presence yea with polished sheen
our day it regulates
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