Work with me sisters lead a seance,
I can feel myself on both of my legs;
It may be hard but I must master this,
If I don’t fight I’ve given up on me;
I can feel myself on both of my legs,
stronger and smiling even brighter;
I’m a fireball and this is just a wall;
It may be hard but I must master this,
growth is never a flatland or simple;
I must become what I’m capable of;
If I don’t fight I’ve given up on me;
With the aid of all my confidantes,
you will see me as a comeback kid.
As corporate cogs go home for the day
Offices empty, regaining their still.
Serene and reflective, sweeping away
Janitor’s magic unfolds, if you will.
His footfalls echo as the dusk falls fast,
Away from the noise, he’s working the night.
Crucial starry role in a one man cast
Sheds sparkle and shine by the morning light.
Wonder if he hums a familiar tune,
Grooving around comfy company chairs,
Close companions - the kettle and the moon -
True confidantes of his midnight affairs.
Though one man cast stays behind the curtain,
His spic and span act shows clean and certain.
WHERE ARE YOU NOW?
Mascara pink lipstick ribbons and curls
Miniskirts no matter what the weather
We were teens two cheerful giggling schoolgirls
Enjoying bits of time spent together
A yellow ribbon round the old oak tree
We followed all the radio top hits
All night writing clandestine poetry
Spilling young hearts out on a paper blitz
Silly teenage crushes and high drama
The best of girlfriends we were confidantes
Exploring grey boundaries and karma
Deciphering feelings wishes and wants
I remember most your joyful laughter
Sad somehow our roads drifted thereafter
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on November 15, 2019 for contest BEST FRIEND SONNET sponsored by REGINA RIDDLE - RANKED 1ST
ROAD TO DAMASCUS
Granite faith exfoliated by superguns and sanctions whirls,
on this earth succumbing into dry spell of peace,
War-crats and confidantes skinning freedom from its people
Kofi drinking coffee with revolutionaries and revolutionaries in
Aleppo cafe on his way to Damascus
Daughters eating NGOs, GMOs, condoms and twitter
Bullet scorching the feet of super diplomats and mediators
Wiki leaks castrating the reputation of this state
Opportunists and oppositionists eating asparagus and liver in candle light dinners
Selfish pseudo prophets calculating political matrixes, salmonella laced sugar tongued
Democrats cooking autocratic beetroot and propaganda pizza for media rituals and puppets initiation.
____________________________________________________________
Sequentially rendered, one by one said,
How do I feel about my life’s thread?
In bed we talk about realities, fashion,
And realise each of us has a passion.
A love for the other, their ordinary times,
Without any hesitation we search for crimes.
But not nosily, imposing our temperaments,
But vocally with the wealth of confidantes.
Knowing that each one can remove dirt,
And make that shipment, no ignoring skirt,
To get our perfect life for stereo surround,
Filled with vital juices and joys which abound.
...inspired by 'With a Photograph to Zell'
by Hart Crane.
We scan the skies as vapor sails,
made wide by distance, destinations
guessed at, criss-cross trails
of global peregrinations;
two of thousands flying high
'til touchdown, from a roaring to a sigh.
Time and separation matter not,
our spirits meld where'er we land,
cities mysterious and grand,
confidantes, a melting pot.
In early years we settled down,
Republic versus Queen and Crown,
three thousand miles, an ocean's span
of redefining can't and can.
An innocent, so far abroad,
an interstitial, like a fraud,
forever seeks the real me
while clinging to your constancy;
expatriate, with memories of
England dear, the land I love.
Why should I care,
About Academics?
School?
Saying the same thing twice?
There be no reason,
To try in school,
When failure is nothing less than host,
To try with a hobby,
When no one reads your
Stories
Poems
Why should I care
About love?
About aspirations?
About, poetry?
No one listens,
Nor cares.
Confidantes
Fail
Leave you behind
Are self-absorbed
and you, nothing less than giving.
I am never alive on a Smile's Journey
That is how I take pictures through views Spritually Presented
The Art through Her Eyes breathes rehabilitation into my wilted assurance
The Sun Shines reflecting perfectly in the Mirror of my Forward Motion
I swim in a sea of never before seen in scenes
that make make me feel a type of Serene
that positively effects the reilluminated sheen
that feels so invigorating, crisp and clean
The Beautification of the Waters Power of Upliftment is like YES!!!!!
in extraordinary snowflakes of Profound Exclamatories.....
She looks Alive in Her Resurrection Sundress,
and She sows the seeds of Light Renewed
Omission and oblivion are relatives of loneliness and misanthropy
Blue and grey are confidantes of depression and its lingering gloom
The blood of the Sky Blue Phoenix drops Tears of Innovative Healing
Life can be the cursive endoskeleton of the exoskeleton of a criminally unsen manuscript
As She Spins Benevolent Renovations in Her Resurrection Sundress.....
...inspired by 'With a Photograph to Zell'
by Hart Crane.
We scan the skies as vapor sails,
made wide by distance, destinations
guessed at, criss-cross trails
of global peregrinations;
two of thousands flying high
'til touchdown, from a roaring to a sigh.
Time and separation matter not,
our spirits meld where'er we land,
cities mysterious and grand,
confidantes, a melting pot.
In early years we settled down,
Republic versus Queen and Crown,
three thousand miles, an ocean's span
of redefining can't and can.
An innocent, so far abroad,
an interstitial, like a fraud,
forever seeks the real me
while clinging to your constancy;
expatriate, with memories of
England dear, the land I love.