Written: June 19, 2026, for a contest sponsored by John Lawless
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Composing in twenty-five words—
a challenge,
where every syllable
competes for air.
Meaning is honed,
essence distilled,
and the poem morphs
into a fragile
tightrope stretched
above
silence.
“Valentine’s weekend,” is performing well in 2026’s attention economy.
I know I like the sound of it - it sounds industrial-strength hopeful.
Romance has always been packed with impulse and desire,
but today’s lovers aren’t just flirting with emotional destruction,
they’re literally kissing it on the lips - those digital images are hard to erase.
Surfing the lonely Internet,
in that boiling AI firmament,
are the ashes of emotional content.
Luckily, on that ever vibrating web,
every now-meaningless moment,
competes with the last.
Me, I have a straight-up brag this valentines weekend.
I have a guy who, out of nowhere on a Sunday,
texts me his undying love.
Winner winner frozen dinner!!
.
.
A song for this:
I Fall In Love Too Easily by Chet Baker
BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish
How I long to see the narcissus blooming once again
So many months away, winter officially not here
Spring would help my grief and down mood lift, help me make it 'til then
Down where wisteria clusters hang from pines and lavender blooms
Their scent wafts in warm spring air, while their vines squeeze around trees
While their beauty competes with unfurling tender green leaves
Working through grief is not easy, maybe spring will help heal
Grief could consume but I know it comes in clusters unexpected
When spring comes, daffodils' yellow golden blooms will renew
Early on while winter lingers star magnolia will bloom
Hope will spring forth, hope of beauty, warmth and healing of my spirit
Death slipped in as winter approached, spring heals with fire of hope
Eyes compete to compensate beauty,
Beyond pleasure of reasonable duty.
Money competes to compensate value,
Before time sets another price anew...
Pen competes to compensate book...
Above muse running minds unhook.
Eraser competes to compensate error,
Against stake of consequence's terror.
Mind competes to compensate brain,
Holding unto wisdom for huge gain.
Thinking competes to compensate judgement,
Having checked through for proper assessment.
Voice competes to compensate ears,
To be calm of sweet words foaming cheers!
Tongue competes to compensate understanding,
Towards convincing points so outstanding.
Seat competes to compensate buttocks,
Cum comfort not necessarily quite deluxe.
Bed competes to compensate spinal cord,
Care sets free unlike one in the hospital's ward.
Women compete to compensate survival,
Vigilant enough of approaching rival.
Men compete to compensate growth,
Virtually for both also marriage's oath.
Competition drives value-
To compensate focus guide
And fight forces turning tide,
Against what desires pursue...
Tornado Jim was an unruly evil F-5.
He barely left anyone alive.
Threw cattle and tractors into the air.
Crushed combines and backhoes; he did not care.
Gloated that he had destroyed more farms than his sis.
She gave him a mean finger and snarled with a hiss.
Next time she destroyed, she vowed to be worse than him.
She was always in competition with Tornado Jim.
It’s a cold, wet, windy night tonight, a cold wet windy night. The Crow’s calls I hear moving through the black of night but with sight I see no Crow.
It’s a mean and menacing night tonight and I hear the groans of trees say it so. Rain beats down so very hard tonight as it competes with the winds and cold.
Glistening stone sits in the cold tonight beaten by wind and rain together and on their own. Dark sheen with shadows moving quickly out of sight as clouds pass by streetlight and the Moon.
It’s a cold, wet, windy night tonight and I’m glad to be at home. Driving tightly must be the way tonight as nature makes danger of and on the roads.
It’s a cold, wet, windy night tonight a night of rain, wind and cold. As I close my eyes to sleep tonight I know that the wind and rain can’t make me cold.
Tortoise looked, couldn't see, hare disappeared.
Only him, tortoise win, hare reappeared.
the sportsmanship that
honesty competes often
eludes the cheaters
The Word of Life is joy everlasting.
In the game of life, we win, lose, and die,
patterns reasoning; be glad we're living.
Living for the trice, losers don't comply,
trifles our distractions are ankle-deep.
Count on time won't add up you'll meet Grim Reap.
Speed misjudged its breaks; odds knew--widow's mite.
Live yond your means, who are your family.
A hard worker, big spender, works in spite,
Jones styles for their smiles, save one--their envy.
Live simple, live smart unlike ducks and drakes,
odds knew--widow's mite; speed misjudged its breaks.
The hare expected to win and the tortoise knew he would lose--too much and too little of themselves, until fate intervened.
One sat under the apple tree until an apple fell on its head, and the other was on top of that tree, simply going out on a limb.
the sportsmanship that
honesty competes often
eludes the cheaters
Wanna go back to my poetic cauldron, the ink boils within me, pass me the spoon, minds and souls have went long without. Need I be punished for starving the nation, sprinkling my artistic expression, the aroma reverberates with poetic reverence, tasting glands oozes ravenously, sauces of creativity fills my hand, edible to the soul too,
marinate the mind with creative expressions, like an artist painter, paint spots all over my poetic kitchen, in my artistic kitchen crockery and cutlery of spirit evokes words, fill the cauldron to brim, multitudes are to be served, a poetic meal, entice the smell sense, as appetites widens, one belly after the other,
I serve the voiceless, the trapped, the surrendered and those who left this this earth not fed, for in my cauldron ingredients of life giving, competes. Lemme put flesh to these poetic bones and feed life back to this poetic body, it's in my poetic cauldron I wanna go back to
#Poetic_Ink
On a busy Marescaux Road where
No one cared for an injured dog,
Where motorists do not come to a slow,
And honking horns hammer
As impatient traffic competes toe to toe,
There on the asphalted heat
The painful cry of a wounded creature
Pierced through the peak-hour hub of the street.
Out into the throbbing traffic
The Wolmarian girl stepped
Caring none except
for that injured dog– whimpering, pleading,
Fighting with its final breaths.
And the honking swelled and motorists yelled.
From their faces, I could discern
They were void of an iota of concern.
Above the chaos, I heard her whisper
Gentle reassurance to the timid creature.
The Wolmarian girl bent
and slowly lifted her casualty
And walked back to the sidewalk
With ceremonious dignity.
And I have always wished to be as brave as she
Who defied the odds to honour her humanity.
Wild woman can outrun a stallion
Out laugh a hyena
Out drink a camel
Wild woman knows her strength
Her spirit rivals the ocean
Competes with the mountains
Shines through the shadows of the forest
Wild woman cannot be held back
She lives her truth, dazzling the rest of us
We stay out of her way
head competes with heart
our ego’s aim self-serving
clutching at fleeting shadows
blissful heart tranquil
has no narrow agenda
love’s the fragrance of a rose
BEAUTIFUL BUT ENDANGERED
I’m a tall lanky, long legged creature,
stunning beauty, easily recognized.
Body marks separate me from others,
that’s why been told … I’m easy on the eyes.
Talk about eyes, my beamers not forget,
gigantic sultry, sexy bedroom eyes.
More alluring behind long thick lashes,
extraordinary … no one denies.
All the way down neck, flows short full mane,
no way competes with lips, soft, luscious, wet.
I’m more than looks, I’m an intelligent
creature God created … this don’t forget.
Like all Creation, I glorify God,
as a Giraffe, fear I’ll soon disappear.
Beautiful but critically endangered,
Is someone listening … does someone hear?
July 21, 2023
Contest: Jamming
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Her skin, pale and fragile
as bone china
protected by a heart
inviolable, gilded threads
weft and warp cloth-of-gold
that flys pennoned from her
shoulders, red hair burning
brighter as she competes
with the setting sun
Do we need all we buy
Or buy what we need
Those in need cannot afford
To be greedy
When they have mouths to feed
Babies crying
Old folks dying
Of the lack of food
All decaying
Bills need paying
The fire needs some wood
Mum is sneezing
Grandpa is wheezing
Dad is not looking good
Got no wages
It's been ages
Since he had a job
He does odd jobs now
As much as time will allow
To earn a few bobs.
Woman passes
Wearing sunglasses
Fashioned by the best
Bulgari Flora
You can be sure
They're more expensive than the rest.
Louis Vuitton
Parisien suit on
Her stilettos are handmade
She has a taste for champagne,
Not cordial or lemonade.
Her hair and makeup faultless
If slightly overdone
She is greedy and thoughtless
And competes with everyone
It is all she lives for
She adores
Her life of luxury
She doesn't acknowledge the poor
Why, on earth, should she?
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