It's first week of September
Still the downpour continues
It drenches the small table
The wet bird looking tired
The humid breeze in between
disheveling your hair curls
A leaf through the window ajar
Takes a seat on your neck
Smell of jasmine from outside
In a contest with your soft scent
The room looks fairly excited
Seeks replacement with a tent
Clouds break letting in the sun
A little shine on the hair bun
2026-06-02 Breathless Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
I was fine up untill this moment
It hadn't really sunk in yet
That my new home wasn't the one that held my childhood memories
That my new school wasn't the one that remembered my half-done projects
That my new friends wouldn't be the ones who shared old adventures and knew all my references.
That the new weather wouldn't be the one with cool autumns and red falling leaves
or freezing winters with weekend trips to snow-covered hills
That my family wouldn't be just a word away for a hug
And that the air I was breathing wasn't the air from home
And suddenly, it was too hard for me to get a breath.
Each day could be a patched up shell of loss,
Plans dissolved before my eyes, over decades.
My life now alone, barely making it, is full!
Cats, birds, trees, a bricked pathway that I laid myself.
Like the birds, and how they build their nests,
I use a collage technique to make my miracles.
I have more honor than pills.
With empty containers about to spark.
More honor than pills.
I think I lost a bone back there.
More of a hole-in-the-sand type of thought.
There’s more than a missing arm bone I left back there.
Leaving a trail of organs behind.
More honor in pills.
I have a temptation to shut off all the lights, all the brights, all the mites.
And the sand has thoughts either way.
Mental illness is more than a liver, bone, or appendix.
So what else do I have to toss?
Larvae sprouted in my wake.
So what else is going to wake up?
That’s what pills do.
For a lightning-bursting, recipe-laden, relish-brain person like me.
in the form of the readymade, now occupies a place in the void, you look at the size of this dewdrop & remember Andy Warhol, who was the first to begin this session in Tate Britain
“The flight of butterflies designs in gloomy mind the collage
of ecstasy, framed by the beauty of life” – by Poet
My ebullient emotion replicates the wings of butterflies,
fluttering on the rhapsodic ripples of the blissful breeze,
and before they all float away to the fading obscurity far,
stop designing for me a flying scenic formation of fulfillment,
I take my lonesome journey through the corridor of hope,
across the wasteland of despair, greening in gorgeous imagery,
or along the gloomy garden path, shining with garnet glitter,
splashing on the blooming saplings, swathed by sunburst colors.
I then perceive my mesmerized marooned mind unfurl in a trance
the receptive convivial canvas of superlative sensuality,
painted with colors of sublime beauty, crafting collage of euphoria.
I walk past the places we used to go,
but they don’t feel like home anymore.
Your name still lingers in the air,
but it’s like a ghost that doesn’t care.
I want to forget,
but I’m holding onto the idea of you,
like an old photograph
that’s fading, but I can’t let it go.
And maybe that’s what love is—
a collection of things
you can’t ever really leave behind.
My heart seeks the smoky quartz sage within you, in secret,
like a solitary star adrift in the whimsical wilderness.
For I remember your voice, that manifested mellifluous musicality,
nurturing vain verses to thrive like lavender-incensed lilies,
glowing with sun-stroked flames of empathetic iridescence,
emanating sealed serenity amidst the archaic darkness,
crawling above raspberry-red roses, waltzing in silence.
Tonight, I cradle crooning clouds, soaked in sleepless sapphires,
as the petrichor breeze serenades your unconditional love,
that quenched my crestfallen quill, releasing cashmere calligraphy.
But if poems could speak, you’d feel the wildflower warmth of words,
how, once upon a camellia crescent, I found my inner rhyme in your sea-foam sonnets,
unveiling a cosmic collage of a sojourner soul,
healing from timeless tokens carved by familiar strangers, celestially aligned, forevermore…
I am the afterglow of a sanguine sunset~
airbrushed with patience by the power of your peridot pigments,
as your tongue is the mindful maestro, and I, the essence of your charismatic choir. …
3D COLLAGE
three dimensional
treasure
brings
aesthetic pleasure
a glow in the heart
such tranquility
flowers upon
this
page
as
sunshine
through a dark cloud
etched
patterns
of thought
in
ribbons
of inspiration
Inspiration flowered by chance for free
as did this collage for me
Life is beautiful, a complex collage
of memories
Epiphanies arise while deep in thought
observing the energy
They come to me when I'm flowing like
rivers & channels
We're interdimensional & forever fluid just
surfing channels
We're meant to be more than basic
embracing complexity
The loving embrace of mother nature
absolves complacency
The father of all lights the way of illumined
paths
There's not a single problem minus answers
if you learn the math
Our formulas take form while in imagined
states
We get results when we mold thoughts
immune to breaks
Whatever it takes just keep faith in the
forefront of mind
Life is a beautiful complex collage of
time
From you people would expect some reason
For an act that shows the way to prison.
It gets as far as act of treason:
The scarcely pardoned any season…
The finest weapon of Roguish Satan,
With it continues to Salvation ban:
“Fall down and worship me to claim this!”
“Shoot Kennedy right now for you can’t miss!”
Man’s reasons to God an Abomination,
You were a head you lost nomination:
“Saul: go and slay all the Amalekites”
And Saul saw reasons to redirect fights.
“So, finally, you’re divorcing your wife?”
“Honestly, her loud snores in bed a knife!”
Still Reason: Darling of Philosophy,
Though, I wouldn’t say loved by Theosophy;
A true child often robbed of its knowledge:
Begins to acquire it in college!
"Dear John," you were wrong, "everything has changed."
"Bad blood" flows like "midnight rain" through your veins.
"The story of us" is thrust into "exile,"
a cheap re-gift "tied together with a smile."
"A picture to burn" and torn "paper rings..."
You know "this is why we can't have nice things."
"All you had to do was stay" faithful, Dear.
Don't tell me you've changed, and "Come back... be here."
"Would've, should've, could've..." I've heard before.
Go explore--- "the other side of the door!"
The story closes with a "back to December" scene,
as "cold as you," "treacherous," and "mean."
There's "snow on the beach." "The lakes" are frozen.
"Two beautiful ghosts..." (A cold chill blows in.)
"Tears on my guitar" strummed "a letter."
"My tears ricochet" as your face gets wetter.
"Dear Reader," I've forgotten your name...
("as if we were strangers.") Oh, what a shame.
1-18-2023
Everything in quotes is a Taylor Swift song title.
amazing grace ~ apricot sunblaze
blushing bride ~ breath of life
crimson shower ~ coral dawn
darling flame ~ dreaming spires
English red ~ elegance
fond memories ~ faithful
gentle touch ~ golden wings
hand in hand ~ humanity
inner glow ~ innocence
Jack's wish ~ Jenny's dream
Ken's rambler ~ Kalmar Castle
lilac charm ~ lionheart
masquerade ~ missing you
nostalgia ~ Neverland
obelisque ~ opulence
pearl drift ~ pure magic
Quaker star ~ Queen Esther
redemption ~ river run
safe haven ~ special friend
tender love ~ terracotta
unity ~ urban streetlight poetry
vanilla sky ~ velours parfume
wonderer ~ welcome home
xenia ~ xerius
yellow floorshow ~ yesteryear
ziggy stardust ~ zephyr's rose
(each word/phrase is a rose name)
12-22-22
Sunburst sky’s spectrum the horizon brush smears
on dew pearl adorned meadow of jade grass new.
Cradled by satin leaves buds bloom charm with cheers,
as petals dance on the crescendo of hue.
Beguiled breeze carries the fragrance far and near,
butterflies float in its whisper flying through.
The beauty of nature fills my mind with glee,
for spring creates a charming collage for me.
________________
September 15, 2022
Syllable count : 11 per line (HMS)
Contest : Ottava Rima
Sponsored by : L Milton Hankins
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