A Wily Brush
The world has become my canvas
Everyone's paths
conjuring patterns
Vain ventures
plenty vanities
concocting colors
As unflattering wills
arouses a wily brush
This world is a notating papyrus
Each monk and mockery
fusing a lucid ink
As Pain taunts pleasure
masking our actions
with blending colors
Different worlds are formed
Birthed by ephemeral words
ushering a cascade of thoughts
flaunting baskets
of friable dreams
fashioning the pen
a flickering fiend
flattering friends and foes
a slick ink
with a cloying unction
You clear your mind
Of indecision, as the birds
Fly dreamily over the supple trees
There's a benefit in it
In believing in thoughts drifting in
Reasoning like a wizard
Carefully concocting beneficial magic
There's a pall of sullen clouds
That can always make a skygazer blue
You mustn't be that pall-sensitive
Choosing the sink-hole over the daisy
You use logic to piece together
Never take your ships of boldness apart
Like a pointless wrecker
Working on hull and masts
Sprits and jibs, the cordage & anchor
You clear your mind and find your guts
The birds send you a message
You settle into for your melodious tunes
Schulz brought to life little Snoopy
gave him two ears that were droopy
concocting a sweet lovable beagle
an ace who could fly like an eagle
AP: 2nd place 2025
Can you hear them? The tribal chants
Chanted only when a member advance
Can you feel it reverberating in your bones?
Can you hear the distant tribal people's tones?
With binoculars - watch the tribal daughters dance
There's the chief with a headdress and mask
There's the tribal elder - concocting a potion
There's the diplomatic princess - with all of her devotion
There goes the knights and warriors - ready for the hunt
You can hear the distant fanfare - the trumpets trump
Stop and listen to the maracas bells
Gather 'round the campfire - listening to the stories they tell
Speaking Navajo to the chief - you will soon find
He's marrying off his daughter - 'cause now it's her time
Don't know if I've ever told you before
But I'm the creative director
Of our cool little community newspaper
It's quite the people connector
It's all about events and the 'goings on'
That interest the local folks
But I'm not averse to lighting things up
With an abundance of silly jokes
Keeps me out of damn mischief each day
Instead of walking the streets
Scaring the little old ladies half to death
Offering them goodies and sweets
Guess I sound like a lecherous old man
But I do get lonely at times
That's when wifey chains me to the porch
But I'm a sweet old loveable kind!
So it's finally out, now you guys can see
When not concocting silly rhymes
Try hard to find ways to amuse myself
Till wifey calls me in at nine!
I shall do a dish and a dash and a ha ha ha
making myself young, so fiddly fah lah lah
so saying, the old witch gave a loud gaffaw
her cauldron boiled and bubbled next to her bra
I pretend to cook kale and sauerkraut too
but in truth, I am concocting a witch’s stew
to make me as young as twenty-one or two
Wish me luck! Cackled the old hag, Libby Lou.
I am blurred
lines circling
in spirals
into the
deadly depths
of darkness
taste of
my remorse
is flavored
with seasoned
cream cocktails
of regrets
I've been
caught on a
honed knife edge
as cobwebs
of fading
onyx Dreams
savor burnt
poisoned thirst
to let go
of every
smoke and ash
that blinded
my senses
from seeing
the dirt you've
fed my soul
in the name
of bloodlines
that never
existed
as all your
recipes
I've learnt through
the menu
of decayed
white lies served
in sweet disguise
staining faith
within a
heart shaped void
where demons
devour me
through midnight
now I'm my
own savior
concocting
an essence
to relish
and revive
without
iron schemes
to shackle me
I should've predicted the dilemma right from the start.
When you parked your car, sideways, across my heart.
Too far gone to see, too emotionally invested to care.
A gradoise illusion to your thousand yard stare.
Feelings of belonging whilst rejoicing in laughter.
My mind simply concocting a happily ever after.
The kick from your beauty internally ingrained.
Any fears and dubiety subsequently waned.
The flame burns alight but old scars remember.
What once shone so bright is now ash and ember.
Dreams of connection shot the nest and flew.
The circle has no end, producing suffering anew.
Validation and consent to toy with my emotions.
Like a child blowing bubbles or a witch making potions.
Conceding I play no part in the life that you chose.
I stare to the sea, that's why they call it the blues.
A wave washes over me, in a figurative way.
As I replay the conversation had on that last day.
Like a beautiful serpent, you hissed 'you should've been flattered'.
As you turned. Walked away. My love story shattered.
Simone the Panda Candy Maker loved concocting new recipes.
Today he created a caramel crunch that would take you to your knees.
Yesterday he invented a potato swirl that brought a new meaning to sweet.
He is perpetually inventing new candies, which makes visiting him a treat.
The wizard will know everyone I met along the way said.
Okay, I thought, for I am from Kansas and not daft in my head.
I looked for the curtain as I pranced down the yellow brick road.
Instead of Toto a cairn terrier, I was followed by a frog who looked old.
The mini-munchkins did not come out to greet or to sing.
I never found a scarecrow, tinman or lion with zing.
In the far distance I saw a poppy field, but the flowers looked odd.
An old witch-like creature with wings gave me a head nod.
Where is the wizard? I yelled, kind of half-heartedly.
That’s when I found a lively sassy wise talking oak tree.
Winged monkeys are about, so make haste she warned me.
Fear came into my heart, I’ve seen Wizard of Oz times twenty-three.
I began to run and hit my head on an unexpected branch.
I woke up smelling cinnamon, pumpkin and possibly ranch.
A frog with a wizard hat was concocting some kind of spell.
I wondered if I was still alive or I had gone to…..
The wizard will know everyone I met along the way said.
Okay, I thought, for I am from Kansas and not daft in my head.
I looked for the curtain as I pranced down the yellow brick road.
Instead of Toto a cairn terrier, I was followed by a frog who looked old.
The mini-munchkins did not come out to greet or to sing.
I never found a scarecrow, tinman or lion with zing.
In the far distance I saw a poppy field, but the flowers looked odd.
An old witch-like creature with wings gave me a head nod.
Where is the wizard? I yelled, kind of half-heartedly.
That’s when I found a lively sassy wise talking oak tree.
Winged monkeys are about, so make haste she warned me.
Fear came into my heart, I’ve seen Wizard of Oz times twenty-three.
I began to run and hit my head on an unexpected branch.
I woke up smelling cinnamon, pumpkin and possibly ranch.
A frog with a wizard hat was concocting some kind of spell.
I wondered if I was still alive or I had gone to…..
deserted area of the town…
lonely Owl hoots tu-whooo! tu-whit…
premonition of a sinister sight!!!!
Eerie midnight …walking through the field,
find three witches asking me to yield,
around a cauldron abominable they look,
wonder what they're brewing following their book!
Are they concocting lizard's leg, toe of a frog
Fillet of a snake, tongue of a dog!
A frightful castle on top of the hill,
does Macbeth live there …I shiver with chill!
An uncanny mysterious moon shines so bright,
silhouettes of ghosts and goblins wander in sight.
Hear deadly werewolves howling and gnashing teeth,
I dread this menacing night, I hardly can breathe.
I scream in terror, the witches signal to me,
I stumble in sheer panic, they wouldn't let me free.
Ohhh…gosh..what a nightmare! what a terrifying night!
Ghoulish things disappeared with bright morning light!
March 22, 2023
Writing Challenge - "N" words Poetry Contest
Theme: Nightmare
Sponsor: Constance La France
SECOND PLACE
My mind is moving and brewing towards improving/
The heart finds pathways stewing me to be nurturing/
Lives in this part bind fast ways of learning/
Strife in this heart grinds for days I’m deserving/
Brief is the restart of times that’ll be concerning/
Relief gives a depart from jives people may be concocting/
Believe it’s smart to stop and strive before any con locking/
He heaves pits apart through slop addicted prone docking/
Be free and forget dirt thrown or mishaps that have afflicted/
Bad bees sting everywhere deep, what are you a resident in?/
Can’t leave everything and everywhere or avoid feelings more sore/
Lent a reprieve and sent a report to raise noise ceilings for score/
Said I’d see if it’d be agreed to resort to a choice retort/
I need to retreat from the heap of defeat I used to call home peak/
Otherwise I’ll seep in defeat and be seated bleak not so unique/
I’d cover my eyes and ears with a fleet of apathy to keep/
I discovered all advice smart heeded to me I would be cheap and pay no attention/
Now uncovered is a nice, respectful style with more compassion to forgo tension
Whatever you may hear
Is not now final my dear
One can cheat your ear
Truth may hide very near
Never believe in what is said
Let musing happen in head
Just by saying "daily bread"
Stomach cannot be fed
By skillfully concocting a rumor
Into your ears one may murmur
It may be provided with glamor
Here comes reasoning grammar
Your ears, never close at all
Grasp whatever others disclose
Please exhibit an innocent pose
Valuable news, all will expose
Analyze the received message
Scan every possible advantage
Let no news cause any damage
Your life you shrewdly manage.
John Keats qualified as a surgeon apothecary
before concocting his poetry
He also wrote ballads & odes
but sonnets were his favourite mode
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