We are all going away and we won't be coming back.
We are just another failed mutation, an evolutionary cul de sac.
a time capsule locks inside my head ~ box of gray matter lined with lead
pipe dreams and u bends from a life i led ~ sealed off now until i’m dead
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Howmanysyllables 2x17
02/27/23
There is a group of us that live around
the cul-de-sac of our neighborhood.
Jimmy is ten years old, the same age I am.
He has a big tall live oak tree in the backyard
with a treehouse we use for a clubhouse.
Marty is twelve years old.
He always wants to boss everyone around.
He has a younger sister named Becky
that always wants to join in all the time.
We try to run her off, but she is always underfoot.
Marshal is ten years old.
He wears blue jeans with a large silver
western belt buckle with a galloping horse,
cowboy boots, and a black straw cowboy hat.
The hatband is adorned with silver conchos,
and it pretends to be a cowboy.
If the weather is nice, we gather and pretend
to be cowboys and Indians and chase each other around,
or pirates on a sailing ship.
Or play marbles and see who loses the most.
If the weather is bad, we play video games.
If we fight, after a while we are friends again like brothers.
2/23/2023
There are times when my thoughts make me dizzy.
What day is it? Did I forget to make an appointment?
My mind becomes so boggled that I'm thrown into a tizzy,
knowing more hours in a day is the healing ointment.
Rushing around in circles, but not getting anywhere.
If I try to travel too fast, I feel like I'm in a cul-de-sac,
repeatedly missing my exit before I'm even aware
that I'm a freight train roaring down the same track.
Houses in the crescent curve are just empty facades.
Sometimes I have trouble recalling which one is mine.
It's confusing to live in a world infiltrated with frauds
and continue to think, "Everything's gonna be just fine."
Cul-de-sacs have only one way in and the same way out,
but when pressing anxieties of life get me distracted,
I'm a pugilist hugging the ropes, sadly losing the bout.
It's time for circular streets to be rezoned or redacted.
February 23, 2023
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
off the beaten track
no desire to turn around
or ever go back
six old potatoes
soft and dusty in darkness ...
bottom of the sack
22 February 2023
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Cul-de-Sac
Quick steps slow to hesitate
The sudden curve of a straight white line
Into the mists of detour
Lined with haunting facades
Of blurred addresses
And faded street signs
Where echoes of curiosity bluster -
Magic or madness -
In proverbs of warning about blind alleys -
Mayhem or mystic -
Bending the lane
Like the nautilus inner ear
A flat arc where light searches
For the sacred
Past faceless abodes lining this curlicue
With a come-on to remain
Yet the heart knows to follow
The flamboyant contours,
Like angel’s wings,
Into the loop – not a dead end
But a recoiling boomerang
Leaving knots of doubt behind
Arms open wide to inquisitive's marathon
Then ride the hairpin rail out of gossamer inkiness
Leaving behind the rags of repetition
Into a rosy borning road.
2-21-23
Contest: This or That
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Theme chosen – Cul-de-Sac
There was this cul-de-sac I well recall
when I was not quite thirty. We’d just bought
our first house, which was cute and kind of small.
Blue, ranch style; rose carpet I liked a lot.
In the cul-de-sac, our house was set
right in the middle; but the number of
the several houses there I forget.
Not many neighbors did I grow to love.
They kept to themselves, but my children played
with kids from all around, and that was nice.
But three years later I became dismayed.
My husband found work out of state. The price
we had to sell our house for was too low.
But new horizons we were meant to know!
Feb. 20, 2023
for Edward Ibeh's This Or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Word chosen: Cul-de-sac
The cul-de-sac of safety comes to mind
when faced alone with problems to resolve;
finding that place where boundaries unwind
a safe cocoon where answers can't evolve.
A dead-end street this cul-de-sac supplies-
where only certain outcomes come and go.
Outside-the-box solutions don't arise;
too easy to remain on this plateau.
To come and go from this safe cul-de-sac,
a zone that shields the sights of what's beyond-
returning to its circumventing track-
will never break this closed and lonely bond.
Around in circles, spinning every day-
where roads of clear, straight thinking fade away.
February 19, 2023
Contest: This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
his mind had entered a state of confusion
numb blank and befuddled on one hand
with walls in front
and verges closing in behind
enclosed in a mixture of discomfort
and pressure to move
stand still for a moment
a voice quietly whispered
with a chorus answering
run for your life
polarized messages
a Jungian way of saying
only uncertainty is clear
he coughed up some phlegm
a mixture of nicotine and discontent
and tried not to give too much importance
to the dreams he had had
maybe there was an aperture
in the partition in front of him
there was a chance that the blind alley could see
not a through road but rather a simple conjecture
that could be refuted with patience and time
three things he knew was that he would not
turn back on himself in anger nor sorrow
that an imprisoned state
could serve as a prism
and reflection would eventually
lead him through darkness
19th February 2023
This or that volume 16 cul-de-sac
sponsor Edvard Ibeh
Cul de sac
Cul de sac
not to turn back !
Pure destined :
Determined.
Inevitable
Not changeable.
Entrance without exit
to meet
blind lane.
Amen !
02/09/23
Choose a title
Contest by Edward Ibeh
“Oh weary hermit, etch these words in stone ~
God is within, we never walk alone”
~ quote by poet
Dear God, give us our joy back;
our life’s reached a cul-de-sac,
with heart caught in desire’s net,
our bankrupt soul’s drowned in debt.
Pathways of sin, a dead end,
for how can darkness defend
soul’s innate bliss, ours to claim,
when our head hangs low in shame?
All seems lost and yet there’s hope,
choosing with love to elope,
breaking free from ego’s chain,
becoming a child again.
In mode embrace and release,
at wits end we’re yet at ease
for lo behold, love and light,
illumines the darkest night.
Seduced by love’s healing meth,
destiny too holds its breath,
carving for us a new path,
each day, a holy sabbath.
Heart’s devout faith opens doors
and as divine grace in-pours,
when we walk, the path appears,
blissful, joyous, free from fears.
07-February-2023
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
A story should I tell you; not an ancient one,
Modern men too in their madness how from truth shun;
Cultures changes; how lives, like ghosts, yet, blind beliefs!
To the very humans how these bring endless griefs!
Possibilities seemed a gold or sapphire shine,
Paths welcomed him like landscapes breathtakingly fine;
Though like a lonely vagabond, he did enter,
He could feel, to him, each one great smiles did render...!
Betwixt smiles he found, midst them exists Satan old,
In the name of rituals, makes enslavement bold;
Caste, color, creed, and sex it defines as morals,
Ethnic enmity is worn as choicest laurels...!
As one born to set free them, he began his task,
They fell on him like pigs and did their wrath unmask;
Perilous pains they caused to him; He bore them all,
Loving them, caring them, he heard the divine call...!
The story is not ended. It's still carried on,
To the hard-hearted, there's no dawn so far is born;
Liberators, like the sun and moon, come and go,
The wind of change on such ones, never wills to blow...!!!
06 February 2023
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
foam that will blind me
chemicals that will call me home
freefall so expensive
i can only afford to live
food that will hurl me
ingredients that will point at streetlights
vomit so extensive
i can only afford to starve
money that will hitch rides
mint that will lead to a stuffy nose and blurry vision
inflation so intensive
i can only afford to dream
The Rare Rainbow at Night
David J Walker
by the hundreds
my regrets gather in the
cul-de-sac end of each day
each with its own number
each its own name and
definition connected to
a list of possible synonyms and
well defined antonyms of sins
committed in the past
the atonement of another tonight
is attached to a rainbow
i cannot see
until the morning
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