we were
always burdened
by the
captivating chatter
discreetly hostel
last likely
a shew
proposition to
reconsider southwest
precook texarkana
thickened tangy
ambition crookedly
fluster and
recognizable flake
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 31–September 6, 2026)
I was incased
in an igneous abode
you could not discern
my watermint sense
but catadromous
unwind
their pantograph
linearize
crookedly bladed link
rosinweed and spoonflower
outgrow technobabble
stratification
calcedony bicolor translucent
zymogen expectantly
diffract southwest
we were burdened
mammalian carrier
through telescope
transparency
never
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 31–September 6, 2026)
She’s stuck somewhere.
She doesn’t know where.
A hooded man came,
With a smell that seemed familiar.
He smiled crookedly.
She just nodded.
Then there… where it all started.
Days, months, and years passed...
Then there…
The green light stopped.
The red light appeared.
That’s it…
The signal they are waiting for.
Before, it was two five one five.
Now, it’s one five left.
That rambling castle across the landscape bewitched my heart
As though divinity has signed, gorgeous is its art.
Are the cherubims relaxing, spreading out their legs and hands?
Are these archaic, ornate boulders on mountainous strands?
Cave-like, carved curvy corridors crookedly coil around
Vertical and horizontal length, width, and depth rebound
Celestially thrill-filled, airy arrays in sunlit style
Are Hephaestus and Athena spreading a sapphire smile?
Points, lines, planes, volumes, and magnitude speak tonnes of volumes.
Are these flawless frills and folds parts of angelic costumes?
Gloriously intricate, cosy carvings, and wide wings
Brim-fill with cosmically grace-filled mimetic mouldings
These sprawling, spreading, sturdy structures seem to symbolise
Incomprehensibly divine marvels that synthesise
Short, long, sharp, and blunt; straight and twisted mortal existence
That draws, from the spiritual source, its soul sustenance.
Soft bones
Towing celestial clay
Brutal, the fleshly vehicle
Screeching still
Along its dark an' ancient highway
Where infinite roads, crookedly knot
Tying bow, upon heavens bouquet
Never meant to be begot
Invisible...
Until our dying day
So, pardon me
The land and sea
An’ rapture me, their eulogy
As fading petal, a warmth to seek...
Upon ashen cliffs, of embered peak
For, heaven held in feathered seam
Formless pillows of life and dream
An’ so life, was left no other way
But for the stars, to steal our world away
For, as to the lesser
Cosmic ghosts, born in fleeting form
Our future, holds no clear shelter
Cerebral an’ shaken, a snow-globe left...
Cast, in perpetual storm
So, pardon me…
This humanity
Kiss my bright-eyed lark goodbye!
Let me sleep...
As the spring tides turn
Amongst every constillation, star
An' pinned-down butterfly...
For, every heaven held in feathered seam
Formless pillows of life and dream
An’ so life, had left no other way
But for the stars, to steal our world away
I am surely not after money
Like a bee after sweet honey
This World is to me funny
Here riches make life sunny
For money all are deeply craving
And so are very crookedly behaving
For ten generations are just saving
Poor man's chances, they are shaving
They spend money like a lunatic
And are thinking like an eccentric
Currency notes make them ecstatic
They appear to me damn pathetic
They squander money on luxury
Care not for those in penury
They are always in a hurry
For them I feel greatly sorry
Father and mother will be hungry
Toward them, they will be angry
To feed parents, they won't agree
Their hearts are shabbily ugly
They will lead a lavish life-style
To none, kind words, they will mail
To show generosity, they will fail
From devil greed, they will ail.
‘Twas on a morning brisk and airy
I met a creature big and hairy.
It glowered at me, and I at it.
I was not afraid, not one small bit.
Its eye was crookedly turned all askew.
From its nose escaped ghoulish-green goo.
A wat’ry rivulet down its cheek.
“It needs a tissue. It looks quite bleak.”
My proffered handkerchief it did take.
Blowing its nose made the sidewalk quake.
It took a moment and looked at me
with a grim grimace, or gleeful glee.
We nipped pleasant words and parted ways.
A morn to remember for always.
We tipped our heads in courteous nod.
Away it turned and away it plod.
This tale is so insanely absurd,
to this day all the details are blurred.
I scarce should repeat it now and then
that I am lumped with demented men.
But for the creature’s courteous bow
It meant no ill will, I know that now.
And when I am asked if I believe,
a brave and bold front I shall achieve.
I shan’t retell the tale of itself,
choosing to keep the tale to myself.
If it returns and it should see me
I’ll smile and definitely pleased be.
In my pursuit to find me,
Like a baby, I crawl on all four,
Wandering tirelessly out of avid curiosity,
Lost in this jungle of thoughts,
Who am I?
What am I?
A writer or a painter?
A fighter or a peace maker?
What should I do?
What should I not do,
I wish to grasp my deepest desire,
Tightly in my clammy palms,
I wish to execute my purpose with vigor,
I wish to paint the best picture of me,
The fact is,
My balance is looking crookedly odd,
The fulcrum not well placed,
The weights not well measured.
I breathe in my odds calmly,
An inhale, another inhale, the next,
I do not wish to suffocate in this jungle,
Give in to the lurking wild beasts,
I must find my way out,
Before I begin to blend into the green.
From once when we awake
To once when we lay
Meandering a crookedly straight path
Let’s dance with butterflies in the sun
And snuggle with fireflies at night
And when the clouds are gray and dark
I will be there to lift your heart
Taking Care
Sometimes taking care
of yourself
me
is not easy to do, causes aches
Makes me cry in the night
Lift heavy heart to the day
Let the pieces start to mend
Sometimes taking care
of yourself
me
Causes grief beyond measure
Hurts more then myself
To be free of the poisonous grip
To get away
The hand reaching out to choke
Sometimes taking care
of yourself
feels not like taking care.
Though I feel,
Inside now, eventually all will be
Crookedly mended, glad spreading
throughout a tenuous thread of beginning
I apologize at any unintentional
flagitious, egregious,
deleterious et cetera and
atrocious (asper wording),
which accidental faux pas
toward an allpoetry participant
named skypriceireland, who brand
did me with
crookedly unflattering feedback,
and practically demand
did, an explanation,
which hoop fully
clarifies intended feedback,
thus aye expand
utmost sincerity and perceives
how my anger got fanned
when purposeful intent grand
lee and roundly surmising
if the Jesse (un-named child) referenced
in the poem played
an influential invisible hand
as the whims of children
can be so inventive
absent any parental oversight
to inveigle being baited
from kiddie make believe island
a desired outcome, rather
exclaim with com manned
double delight at such un-planned
Hi Yo Silver braying ejaculation,
thus upon this
expostulation I stand.
title here
which form
concrete where
answer question
with questions
no questiond
go
unpunished
punish me
brutality
words
words words
line me up
crookedly
crooked me
recital fear
title here
?
There are hands that extend.
Crookedly they creep, their twisted branches reaching for me.
Decaying twigs resemble fingers, fingers that coil in midnight locks.
Ebony hallow, where the beast bay’s at the alabaster moon.
A scarlet cape tattered and worn.
The air is dense, it chokes with stench.
Things rot that lay shallowly buried.
Ebony hallow, where spirits wonder.
Aimlessly they moan with restlessness.
Petrifying specters.
In ebony hallow, blood runs deep.
Rivers of red, bedrock drenched in vibrant shades of rouge.
It numbs you, your senses heightened, the feeling of being hunted intrusive.
God rest your soul shall you ever enter the woodlands where foul play.
Ebony hallow, a cold October, an unforgiving fate.
Cascades of stretching autumn ivy
snuggle close to the verdigris hardware
of an intricately carved, but sun-bleached
walnut door under a collapsing portico.
Droplets of sweat trace jigsaw trails
through the clinging film of dirt, revealing
the white of fluted pillars looming crookedly and
hunched by centuries of unappreciated exertion.
An eerie nostalgia laps at my consciousness
fettering my imagination to that very portal.
What yearning is this, to peer backward through
the impenetrable curtain of time?
Curiosity gives way to fearful dread;
wandering thoughts to waking realization;
that it’s a frightful thing indeed, to love
as death relentlessly pursues the same.
What can be built that cannot be toppled…
What can be polished, that will not erode…
What can be loved that cannot be taken…
behind that impenetrable curtain of time?
08/13/15
Weathered Windows
Savor the meadow as far as eyes grasped;
Wildlife walk gingerly;
Walked behind them, nodded.
Purple and orange wildflowers
Just didn't fit.
Twenty one posts with mildew
Surrounded the thrown out periwinkles;
Left their fate to cover a virgin path.
A path followed by newly dismissed seeds, pods;
Shown with individuality.
Brown, stiff stalks topped with feathers.
Where did the passion fall away.
With gusto and charms, looked high and blinked.
Imagine so.
Sharpened vision chased the clues;
Brought them closer, fractured two or three.
Saw a wood pile stacked
Oh so crookedly yet seasoned for the coming cold snaps:
Carried two by two, four by five bundles.
Took only two to stack back away.
Cellar doors, grey colored, worn away
Weathered down to the granny apple color
Which, by the way, wasn't so offensive at all.
Known by those passed to another time;
Not to be abandoned nor evicted.
Gave faith with brilliant touches;
Gven to those with arms held out.
To envelop with the reached up hope
To culminate what was a yesterday, then.
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