Toward optimum development
defying diagnosis gloom
faith of child
soars midst freedom bliss
hits milestones yon debility blight
from wheelchair not exiled
radiating hope, trusting the Lord*
while prayer reaches heaven
heart beseeches ... triumphantly styled.
*Psalm 28:7 The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him.
July 29, 2025
7th place, "A Child of Light" Tesla 3–6–9 Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Suzette Richards; judged on 7/30/2025
The Design of The Tesla 3-6-9 Poem:
A 9-line verse.
Lines 3, 6 and 9 rhyme.
The syllable count of lines 3, 6, and 9 correspond to the line number.
I spent two hours plus today
At MOMA with “The Clock,”*
A cinema montage composed
Of film and TV stock.
With collected clips of time shown,
(There are thousands spanning years)
It is brilliantly presented
As each clock or watch appears.
So if an actor checks his watch
And it says 2:15,
Your phone will correspond with
What the time is on the screen.
The film is on a constant loop,
The hours twenty-four
And people watch for varied times,
Most wanting to see more.
Yet when museum hours end,
The film keeps playing on,
Despite the fact the audience
Reluctantly has gone.
At times, a special screening runs,
When viewers are allowed
To stay all day and night; I’ve heard
That it attracts a crowd.
I couldn’t really do that, but
If I can snag a seat,
I’d love to catch a few more hours;
It really was a treat.
*by Christian Marclay, currently on view
at New York City’s Museum of Modern Art
Found my space to roller skate
Like I did when I was eight ...
Round, round and round the rink
Flashing lights of blue and pink
High above such trivial things
Skating the track of Saturn's rings,
Go, go, they can't catch me now
Once you learn, you never forget how
The music flows from far, far away
Down on Earth where records play,
The stars, they pulsate to the beat
And correspond down to my feet
Bubblegum pop and all the feels
Purple shoelaces and rubber wheels,
Rock my world, let me go back
To neon lights and skies of black
Feelin' like that long lost kid ...
Feelin' things no grownup did ...
Right foot, left foot, I got the pattern
Skating upon the rings of Saturn.
A texted Tanka
we h#ve mucx to lay
textins is two limited
it is balter if
we p2e pen to pazer and
cor4espmd with0ut er7ors
we have much to say
texting is too limited
it is better if
we put pen to paper and
correspond without errors
On an early day in late spring,
as dragonflies dance and birds sing,
on top a dock where I've grown fond,
butterflies gather by the pond
Cattails sway in the morning breeze,
as do the crowns of nearby trees,
this view I see the world beyond,
butterflies gather by the pond
As ripples in the water form,
and playful fish frolic in swarm,
without words we all correspond,
butterflies gather by the pond
On an early day in late spring,
butterflies gather by the pond.
I have a curious mind
About humans and their life’s
As I correspond with PS poets
I wonder where they reside?
Do you live in a house in suburbia
Or an apartment in a busy city
On a farm or ranch in the country?
With nature so captivating and pretty
Or are you beside the ocean?
In a cottage overgrown with thistle
Perhaps in a huge mansion
With all the bells and whistles!
Maybe you are a nomad
Your home on wheels and mobile
Or live in a boat on the water
Or is off grid more your style?
Do you just have a room?
Maybe a flat or a retirement home
Or high up in the mountains
In a commune or all alone?
Do you reside in a dry hot desert
Or in the alps covered with snow
Or by a babbling brook?
Where fresh water trickles and flows
Maybe you are a free spirit
Living life in a tent
Is your home your sanctuary
Do you feel safe and content?
I live in a house in the suburbs
One street back from the sea
I love my home and where I live
It is “my” sanctuary ….
Adversity passed down the line
Like drinks at the bar
We all carry common trauma
Healing from the same scars
Lugging comparable baggage
Distorting our point of view
Hard to change the narrative
So stuck with what we knew
Uncertainty a staple surrounding us
Jumbled up family histories
Longing for connection
As trying to solve life's mysteries
Creating a culture of kinship
Forcefully building bonds
Speaking the language of loyalty
Is how we correspond
Shared sense of allegiance
Willingness to sacrifice was steadfast
Unwavering ability to show up
Developing roots that will everlast
May have gotten missed in the past
But nobody left behind this time around
No longer alone anymore
As now being seen after finally be found
but a collection of slim syllables which became monolinear
to keep the vocabulary from becoming even skinnier
no matter what is written, experienced or elegantly lied
existence flows toward eternity for change will not be denied
trying not to get lost in depth of individual helplessness
prime numbers and beings stand entirely on their own prerequisites
denial that existence must be about each species improvement
would deeply flawed gods create humans simply for their own amusement?
where things choose to correspond to individual dependencies
hard to shed the burdens of our ancestors' habits and tendencies
written history becomes polluted, diluted, often obscured
all remembrance soon fades, despite how robust or heavily insured
human lives are molded by the severity of challenges endured
BEGINNING OF EVERYTHING
Sleep comes as a welcome guest
Who assuages in some measure
The prolonged stage of pain
Within the straits of breathless grief.
The one at final rest starts a journey
Beyond the narrow confines
Within the dimmed space
Out to the open prairie of a sunlit
Horizon, unknown to those who
Wait behind until their time
Of reaching home.
They are present visitors to a finite place,
Where the hours rush by
Without thought for the future,
Before they too embark on
The adventure to a distant shore.
The end is a beginning,
And signifies the end
Of things which do not
Correspond with
The beginning of everything.
Everything that was, is
And now is come to pass.
I do not have a perfect life
Blue, brown, yellow, black...
Orange and silver, civilize my emotions
Correspond to justify my ambiguity
Like a swarm of bees, protecting its hive
I have succumbed to my delicacy
It magnifies my efficacy
The roar of a lioness.
Lay to rest the troubles of thy self
Unfold the folded and iron the crumbled
Take a closer look in the mirror
Take a closer view in the puddle
Yes, the mystery is muddled up
You dread to look at your own soul
But nothing is much more stabbing
Like the hearts sore.
Different views, different tastes
She is not you, You are you
You wish for clarity, but
Charity you never tried
Purity was never your choice
I smell darkness
The roar corresponds to the howling howls of the night.
Sleep my emotions sleep
The night is still young,
So are you?
It was never promised to no man but,
Tomorrow is another hectic day
Pathetic is no fit to define
Lock the voice-box, sustain the roar
Sleep well my love,
Sleep well.
If I open a school,
You’ll worship every rule;
To begin to touch a Tool
A Proven Settled Fool:
A Pond to Swimming Pool
Now A Horse, once A mule:
One who would a crowd pull;
In number my classes full!
Yes, A school all-day cool
But where you won’t ever drool…
For your ascertained truancy
No administrative Leniency;
For your beastly claw
That could blood draw…
When to cases you respond
And your facts don’t correspond;
You a lot cherish tradition
But would not make an addition…
You have been a facility
And we glimpse imbecility;
You often drive Dad’s vehicle
But can’t write an article…
I well recall the old farm pond
With winter ice and fernlike frond
Where I was baptized long ago,
After they scraped a drifting snow
Across the road and field beyond.
There remains an unbroken bond
A boy in white robe warmly donned,
New-born with spiritual glow
I well recall.
The pastor was a fair-haired blond
Years with him I did correspond,
He was my guiding light, although
That was many long years ago
When to Christ's call I did respond,
I well recall.
written April 15, 2022
for "Your Favorite Theme" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Regina McIntosh
I believe because we fit so well my love,
Love was foreign now you're my heart’s song.
You made me believe you're a gift from above.
Before you, my love my life was all wrong.
I’d listen to your confessions all night long,
I’m utterly happy to be your loving wife.
In your loving arms is where I belong,
I’m grateful that you are a part of my life.
My love, we mesh together like hand and glove,
I could never doubt our love, it's solid and strong.
You are so gentle and you don’t push or shove,
I’m so glad we met that night in Hong Kong.
On that sweet day loves wings came along,
I didn’t believe in fate until I found you.
Sweetheart in your presence folk just throng,
I’m grateful that you are a part of my life.
All of your touches are gentle as a dove,
You take me to new heights, my Armstrong.
Life with you is more than I dreamed of,
I’m no longer a wayward vagabond.
Honey, we have such a remarkable bond,
We’ve had ups and downs but not much strife.
My heart and yours will always correspond,
I’m grateful that you are a part of my life.
12/24/2021
Contest: “B'' Forms, 10 Plus Lines
Sponsor: Constance La France
Not to die is also not to live...
greater sadness is crying inside
in place of releasing tears out...
have only pristine smiles
that today correspond to nostalgia...
Smile thorns and cry flowers...
live with a sad soul
and smile anguish...
Feeling that joy is crying around...
That's why I reaffirm that dying,
is born-again... that is spiritual
comfort...
Meanwhile, I write poetry
that reveals understanding... !
Slotted abruptly into a concept
Bold intimation begs he correspond
Gypsy psyche brown moth becomes windswept
Attempt to bracket him or wander on
Waiting with pattern disrupted, fear tinged
On crops offering fluffy promises
Closing chapter rips lustre from bronze wings
Field generosity astonishes
Cotton airborne released from spindly twigs
Soul exfoliated floats borderless
White flight blank wanting absorbs all of his
Virgin shirks burden of choice, subordinate
Soft vessel travels to land's bitter edge
In salt soak Pacific, brief life extends
9th May 2021
Written for Contest: Summer Love Sonnet
Sponsor: John Hamilton
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