Desolate clown's
traveling train
tours famed cities
onto quaint towns.
He mimicks glee
for his ousted
heart's sutures
are dismissive
frowns.
Balloon twisting's
what he knows--
cause joggeling act
makes kids mope;
And sparking globe-nose
bombards
the Top's bleachers
with plumes
of blinding smoke.
His onesie sports
ink-stains for color;
And oily-face
with white base
sweating turns
cream-soupy butter;
Shoved and ridiculed
by crowds-even peers,
cause he studders.
His Mass Bay clown
soles have holes--
with grimy socks,
torn by nails and corns.
Grey's his story--
when a caboose's
the only corner
where he
can call home.
He'll tumbling fall
to gain their laughs-
cringing weeps
in silence--
from prying eyes.
The show must go on--
cause he's a star;
Like his forefathers
before him-since then past on.
When the ebbs and flows of the months and years
parted our paths like ocean currents,
the inexorable wind
ruffling the taut sails,
pushing my ship onwards
till you vanished from the horizon.
As the stars lap merrily on the sea,
you appear under the final slithers of waning moonlight
in fragments upon the shattered mirror,
silky hair billowing outwards
like a blossoming flower.
Flashes of our past flicker indecisively,
the joyful scenes reenacted by nature,
its retelling of our tragic tale
so tangible, like a solid hologram.
I'm too afraid to remember
but far too cowardly to forget.
For too many nights I've lied,
huddled inside the rocking cabin,
fabricating the hope for a tomorrow
yet clutching still at the straws of yesterday,
bandaging every crack in its weathered hull,
refusing to let it all slip away.
In between the constant flapping of the sails
and steadfast glow of the stars,
my mind drifts into a realm, a history,
that belongs to a desolate name.
And I can't help but wonder;
who do you truly care about now?
While I in solemn silence sit
Sad, forgotten and desolate
She comes and simply with her wit
Dispels the gloom, regret and hate.
But she lives only in my mind,
For in the grave she’s long confined.
November 1, 2025
Among 2nd Place
Bite Size Contest no127
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
The blistering sun sears the sand.
Time will create a desolate land.
Desolate...
The wind howls through hollow trees,
empty echoes in barren land,
where time forgets to leave its hand.
Desolate...
Footsteps fade on dust-strewn ground,
no voices call, no whispers sound,
only silence, vast and unbound.
Desolate...
The sky weeps with ashen tears,
stars extinguished, lost to night,
a world consumed, devoid of light.
Desolate...
Shadows stretch where none remain,
forgotten names on crumbled stone,
and you walk this path alone.
In shadows cast by trees that once stood tall
The whispers of the past in silence dwell.
Where laughter echoed, now the lost birds call,
And memories, like echoes, fade to hell.
The winds blow harsh, and through the ruins crawl,
A haunting chill that weaves a mournful spell.
Each broken stone, a tale of grace long gone,
In desolate beauty, hope has moved on.
When you're lonely and exposed.
Blood, shred and tears.
And after all this time that you still owe.
And after all the blood that you still owe.
After lie, after lie.
Nothing, nowhere.
You're still a good for nothing, I don't know.
And my world, it drifts apart.
I know that inside of me, it's a ing ghost town.
This empty shell is like a noose around my neck.
Beg for the rest of my life.
You're killing me, killing me.
I want to be free from these chains.
And I'm staring at the walls again.
Obsessing over you this way.
I'm so damaged beyond repair.
Leave before you love me.
Through the crystal glass, you gaze at me.
A winsome waxing crescent,
With a dangling sonata pathétique.
In my hollow room, sweet flashes of a floral essence.
Her presence is absent and my feeble heart is becoming more weak
A precious diamond was found but is now lost.
Asunder is this rare jewel,
Only my heaving heart can weigh the cost.
Now, here I sit in my desolate room.
A desolate trekker who walks undauntedly,
Truth moves slowly but surefootedly
Through matted crowds of lies,
Ever stung by lethal fangs of vice.
Her trek through moistureless terrains
Unperturbedly winds on amidst pains;
Outnumbered by loathing children of gloom,
Till the coming of Diablo’s definite doom.
Let me cry let me weep
Let roll down tears from painful eyes
I am living alone nobody is with me
you left me alone in desolate way
you went away without traces of feet
This world ask me to stop my cry
I wanna cry don't stop me to cry
Cry is my new partner of life
Hard to concentrate when I feel desolate
Will my goals work, or will I start to shirk?
But this is far from death, at least I have breath
Living a day at a time, making rhyme
moon rise, dusk be gone…
iris’ flooding for light shards
edges of darkness press tight,
just passed bright sails folded.
silver rush bathes glistening eyes
alone again…
heart shine dimmed once more ~
last time
…this time
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
desolate
Sun fire like crimson
Blood red at the change of season
On a desolate planet of sand
A once sea turned to barren land
Dust clouds fly high in the atmosphere
Sun streaks red, as it sears
Scorched dry ground hot to the touch
Rocks and craters, rigid and rough
Canyons of oranges and gold
Nights that get ever so cold
The surface is inhospitable and droughty,
The skies swirling with dust, dense and cloudy.
Signs of life are long since gone
The entire planet is prawn,
A once vast and thriving society turned wasteland,
Burned hot by its sun’s brand.
Where there was once water
There are cracks and ravines
The sun burned hotter
Searing and scorching the land and the seas.
Looking down on the ruins that remain
It’s almost beautiful
The way death and destruction
litter the surface like stains
A once fruitful land turned fateful
By their own hand
All that’s left are cities buried in sand
Desolate garden
spring fades precipitously
petals flee with wind
Unhurried, loose, easy
Meandering, forlorn pathway
Nightfall, greatness
Scenes, unfurl in obsess
Strolling byway, late day sounds
Dazzling splendors surround
Among squeaking treetops crowned
Seeing falling leaves, flicking
Glimmering mist, crickets ticking
With heavy steps, leisurely, plodding
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