Eternally, eternally all clocks unwind;
To be rewound — a life untethers to be re-bound
Old eyes forget the forewarnings wisdom teaches;
They widen to look anew where experience beseeches
Set sail into the ancient light anew—
Adrift upon a mirrored sea of stars and lulling waves,
Rocking steadily and toward an enlightened litany
Of ideas and shapes that mould us as we wake,
In loving arms and eyes that behold us
And each little breath we take,
One new timid star, shining amongst so many,
Outshine and out-reach the distant rims;
Cast an urging light for our daunted whims
Held in check by the shackled limbs,
The instilled deprecation that dims.
And let my eyes unbind, aglitter—
The horizonal-line—
Trans-destine—
And free.
An iteration—
A fantasy—
Adream midst destiny—
A new you, a new me.
This un-daunted Dr, is making a stand against ill-liberal intentions for Canada
Now planned.? Common stupidity it
Must be.' Or wilfull destruction if human
Liberty, and its not only the good Doctor
Who knows the score.' Of a dystopian
Agenda, of which no clear thinking person
Could want more.'
the
ubiquitous
reflective
eyes
scanning
throughout
the
Serengeti Plains
of
the
wild spotted
hyena
laughing
giggling
chuckling
while
feasting
and
crushing
the
bones
of
the
daunted
prey
Inspired by our agency. We are not for sale. Every person is valuable and important and worthy of love and kindness. Stay strong. Blessings.
I am light
(My Soul is powerful)
By Michelle Morris
19/11/2025
I am worthy
I am light
I am love
I am mighty
I am not yours
I am not for sale
I am not a chess piece
I am not here to fail
I am valuable
I am strong
I am important
I am belonging
I am not limited
I am not weak
I am not a follower
I am not a sheep
I am powerful
I am compassion
I am integrity
I am faith in action
I am not afraid
I am not blind
I am not daunted
I am not unkind
I am a fire
I am a storm
I am a phoenix
I am reborn
So, no matter what you think
Remember my agency deserves respect
It is an honour to be in my presence
My Soul is powerful - a magical essence
I have courage, hope and faith, always
God and His Angels know my name
And every single evil thing you do to me
Will come back on you like Hell's fierce flames
© Michelle Morris, 2025
I’ll scrape this mud off of my heels -
That’s caked from years of trudging.
And soak these wounds in orange peels -
To persuade scabs into budging.
This bar of soap, my sword of choice -
Will slay bruises that have haunted.
Replacing aches with citrus’ voice -
Who soothingly tunes the daunted.
This plunge of water, warm and welled -
Will calm my anxious weather.
And put to rest thoughts that rebelled -
As I bathe in crystal summer.
Perplexed and dismayed
In the seeming misery.
This bewildered soul so abashed
Within the bodied figure so jittery.
Daunted her deep-felt presence
He wonders, if lost.
Heart sobs within, in cold sweat sequence
To what does this cost.
Uncertainty seemed a bedrest
One not pleasing to behold.
In what way does this become a test
Yet the mind feels a stronghold.
He mumbled through the dark intermittently
Ferreting a glimmer of hope to come.
Braced skillfully and Concomitantly
The love of her succor draws Him not to keep mum.
Dusk
Till dawn
As tawny
Night and moon wanes
Darkest dark; bats fly
Ghosts, ugly witches bliss.
Daunted and stark under lit
Streetlamps large black feline tail rise
On bittersweet brisk nocturnal stroll.
Prowling it yearns on spooky Halloween.
I sit brooding on my doorstep, begrimed,
Loneliness, like a ghost, within, settled;
Sunbeams, outside, spread lavishly sublimed,
The current of existence-whirls nettled...!
My little daughter, as though bored, sits near,
Her head on my chest; hands on my lap placed;
Is she hungry? Is she sharing my fear?
Is she riddled and puzzled and pain-braced...?
My kitty lay perplexed, blinking her eyes,
Awe-struck, why she's not given her ration;
She's not enticed in chasing any mice,
She seems to share my pain-filled fixation...!
Things around me, like my life, are shattered,
My broken casement nook is not mended;
Washed linens, though clean and dry, aren’t gathered,
Is my numbed Time doomed to stay suspended...?
I do not want to go inside my house,
Each room, by past memories, is haunted;
In the absence of my devoted spouse,
Though nature cheers me up, I feel daunted...!!!
A composition on canvas; lyrics written for a song
Tortured was a soul asking, "Where do I belong?"
Daunted with a fragile mind but never was he blind
to being rejected although his love for her was true.
In oils squeezed upon a palette, did he seek to find
peace in such a hostile world, he painted cobalt blue.
Don Mclean denied accusers of Van Gogh's insanity,
Windswept clouds were part of his artistic humanity.
Brush strokes of sadness were not proof of madness.
With such a depth of emotions, why did no one see
the hand of one who created the abstract landscape
unlocked Vincent's prison door so he could escape?
His visions of dark shadowed hills and starry skies,
were boldly brushed with sighs and wearied eyes.
A tapestry he left behind; a life of angst and regret.
Yet, no one listened before he took his final breath.
Van Gogh sought freedom but only found it in death.
A tragedy that can never be compensated or offset.
Death's voice deranges my mind.
It feels as if the clock above my head has begun to unwind.
A decade and beyond,
But only now am I beginning to feel alarmed.
If only I had a magic wand.
14, 15, to where have my stolen memories disappeared?
Thursday, Friday-Monday, Tuesday...
Did Saturday and Sunday run away?
Oh please, in my dreams allow me to stay,
Times' endless cycle has made me weary.
Dear lord, haven't you heard me pray?
Atleast set a bounty, any price I will pay.
From dawn to when the moon is reborn, I've never witnessed twilights' haze.
For all that I crave is a single interlude-
To be free from times' curse.
For every time I open my eyes, the ticking will only invigorate.
Perhaps for an hour, a minute even, if time didn't wane...
Then maybe, just maybe... Would I be able to rest at ease.
Free from the burdens labeled as responsibilities... Only then,
Can I simply exist in a serene state of seclusion.
Alone on this horizon, where I was born.
Left with a vision; the glorious sight of a conclusion.
Now I will have found my reason.
With that newfound clarity...
I shall live in harmony with the ticking that once daunted me.
Dour ferris wheel, are you haunted?
Dark a place to sit peacefully,
enjoy a spell if you’re lonely;
Disguised cloaked in what I wanted,
my insecurities flaunted;
False eyes like you understood me;
Dour ferris wheel
everything inside you taunted;
Needling me repeatedly
low lights glow spectacularly;
Your gloom never left me daunted,
Dour ferris wheel.
In existence, select the path to follow.
This is the most pivotal choice of your life.
Will merely delay or endure things to rife.
Roll the dice and check if you hit or are hollow.
Every day is grand, life allows a raw leaf.
You'll gaze at how other wanders to our pile.
Over time, we agonize over hope for a smile.
Why worry about fate, life books, joy or grief?
Fitfully, I need to shout a present tale a day.
If this occurs, on our page, bestow a prize.
How could this arise with no tears or sights?
Therefore, if it's deliberate or not, wish it may.
Could it be evil luck? I care about savory?
I'm still bearing a lot and becoming older.
Each day's tale is over success or failure.
In eager days or bane, we may pray for glory.
I learned late that hope conveys might.
To live hastily or slowly or meet strife.
My tale ends fearfully of hailing the rife.
Oh God, I am daunted; our life is a plight.
Written: November 15, 2022
The Crap Shoot #2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
HOT SEASON
Azure bright cerulean sky up above Earth
“ Scorching shiny Sun shows” halo.
Sand grains “drifting: Dry desert.”
“ Hot hammer hitting “ environ ceaseless.
Maddening nimble open passion to “prick, pierce.”
Rough sharp tough “Sun sending sweating” agenda.
Frantically grumbling hankering for showers.
"Dazzling day, sizzling Sun " : performing solo.
" Daunted dizzy draught" to threaten.
09/26/22
The A’s have it
Contest by Joseph May
When love came, it came so fast.
Was I mature enough to decide?
I hadn’t annals from my past.
Friends said my time I should bide.
I believed I knew what I wanted.
I wanted to be your bride.
By their doubts I was daunted.
How could they know much better than I?
By my doubts I was haunted.
What to do, I voiced a sigh.
Follow my true heart was the reply.
I couldn’t bear to say goodbye.
After all these years I can say
I have no regrets of my choice that day.
A sign posted in front of the library tells of
no internet service available - good heavens what to do?
the rain has waned the sun is coming on which lends
a never be daunted air and so I mosey on over
to Tompkins Square crooning the living is easy (well sometimes)
tucking into the park - ah summer city squalor
please step aside I think as I plonk down on the bench
in front of a towering tree that provides a splash of graceful shelter.
A freshly planted batch of flowers nearby
and their sweet flickering scent are cleansing the air
as I gaze up at a bluebird who has settled on the magnificent tree branch overhead and proceeds to bestow on me a veritable symphony of musicality-
oh sweet mercy - such an array of notes - abundant blessings abound!
the flowers providing a feast of aromatic bliss while bursting iridescent and the bird of blue rendering the air lyrically alive with gentle sound
while the tree gives one and all the breath of living . . .
I take it in and breathe it in and it is good
dear friends many thanks for fortifying the bone to back
and for suffusing my morning with the exquisite.
And just think they're services are always available
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