He stood owning the stage.
He doled out his jokes too funny.
We roared a good laugh.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
His currency was empty promises.
He doled them out like no tomorrow.
Meanwhile mountain of debt accrued.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Written: November 10, 2025, for contest sponsored by Constance la France.
Quote: "The ocean sparks the heart, inspires the mind, and brings amaranthine delight to the spirit." — By Poet
******************
Atlantic swirls, quilt sewn from hums of yore,
A glimmering shroud, a face in swing core.
Its ridged forms whisper tales long lost to time,
From Viking ship venture to the toil of slave chime.
It sparkles brightly in absence of light,
A flexible refrain, the sound of a gull's flight.
In its shadows, there is both death and gold,
Amid a tempest, the song of a siren doled.
Brine it casts upon the sand of the coast,
Sounds as a solemn plea, or a hushed boast.
Flows are at odds with the urges of man,
But chisel the underside of each span.
It shows gales and sadness of a lover,
And holds peace of the past eras hover.
Plenty of vessels rubbed against its fluid grasp,
And none granted the familiar embers to clasp.
Let it to bellow, or consent to its repose,
The Atlantic runs vast and may oppose.
It murmurs in dialects beyond our control,
Yet it lingers, as a whisper within the soul.
I woke up on a rooftop watching rain clouds mold
A seagull wearing sunglasses whispered secrets dipped in gold
A vending machine hummed softly saying life will sometimes fold
While a robot on a skateboard swore the future favors the bold
Old posters on the alley walls muttered nothing stays too old
And a wandering saxophone released the notes it had to hold
A suitcase full of riddles claimed its truths were never sold
And a neon painted turtle kept the city from turning cold
My shadow high fived strangers every gesture smoothly rolled
While a mime in glowing sneakers warned that rules were meant to scold
I grabbed a cup of lightning felt its shiver as I hold
And watched my drifting thoughts get interviewed and slowly polled
Blessings rained like glitter every spark precisely doled
As the skylines massive heartbeat struck each second that it tolled
I stepped into a sunrise shaped by stories I once bowled
And walked through shifting timelines where my voice never pigeon holed
I wrote it all down laughing as the universe just strolled
Then signed my name beneath it leaving a legend fully scrolled
All England, blinking nervously, is out!
A little mild spell, much to our surprise,
has brightened frowsy February skies.
We sniff the air with nostrils schooled in doubt.
Baffled by balm, the fruit trees have misfired.
Like foolish virgins, hurrying on their scarves,
They've pushed out blooms half-petaled and half-starved.
The coming frosts will slice them like cheese-wire.
And I have loved you far too eagerly.
My half-cocked hopes have withered on the bough.
I should have doled my sweets more meagerly -
then, had I granted space, and time, and light,
your hobbled feelings might have taken flight,
in any time or place - but England. Now.
Famished, starved truly
Love, withheld cruelly
Doled out in dribbles
Tiniest nibbles
Hunger unsated
I have a wife, a son and two granddaughters,
I have nightmares.
A 'having' cannot be held onto,
a Keep, a Fast, a Hold, all are synonyms
for a fortress....
my aspirations crumble like ancient walls.
When I pluck a pretty wildflower
from a verdant meadow -
a momentary kiss of joy,
an enlightening ray of sun....
then cometh the regret, the withering,
a racing time outpaces any moment.
I have bad nights,
the dark always wins over any internal light,
I am transfixed, wide eyed looking at phantoms
that burgle my mind,
or do I rob theirs?
Who built this machine that
both devils and angels struggle to maintain?
Grace is doled out into my open palms,
and I must watch the blessing evaporate
before it reaches my lips.
I have bad dreams.
“Doing the little things can make a big difference.”-Yogi Berra
**************************************************************
A Tipping Balance
Dipped down the depth of a ditch by vile men
And shattered by the heartless hands of fate
I swayed with hope at the tip of one end,
At other, dark despair drowning me straight.
It was a tough tug of war with despair
Oft driving me to doors of depression
And hope at times lifting me up from scare
Of sinking in stormy seas of tension.
In time the flame of faith in the divine
Doled out a tipping balance towards hope
That did in my life steer some streaks of shine
And altered the contours of my life`s scope.
Now with hope and the flame of faith aligned
The tipping balance rests with the divine
precipice
and the granite unmasked
not my heart in immobility
Injustice
Disguise of righteousness
Not my soul in perpetual quake
Punishment
That which he doled smiling
My body he forced, never will be...
me
Each night she left him bleary -
his mind foaming in a glass
of Guiness.
Disappointments wore her life thin,
nuptials picked to a fugue and dinge,
by his thick-tongued spiel.
“I can change him.”
Nothing changed.
Long she withered and waned.
Friends doled out sympathy
like spreadable butter,
yet her bread was dry.
Long she withered.
Daily she wiped
a vinyl calico tabletop
wet with spilled beer
and self-pity.
She got a second job.
Still searching for my permanent address,
seeking where I really live, fit in.
Suspended between life’s already-happened
and soon-to-be-memories moments.
Longing for a white-picket-fenced home,
landscaped in self-trust, self-respect,
with room for a full-of-love heart.
Instead, I discover a crumbling castle,
mossy, dank dungeon of the mind
imprisons me.
The jagged nettles of cruel abuse
doled out by my dark thoughts
pierce my soul.
Spirit sapped, barely staying alive.
Hope, in one tiny sliver of daylight
in the cracked castle wall,
penetrates the darkness.
When push comes to shove,
will there be enough shove left in me
to rise above,
to finally reside in happily-ever-after?
My choice.
My long ago mother
used to string together cheap jewelry,
baubles and glitter threaded onto silvery strings
for a begrudging merchant
who kept a cramped second floor office
near what I later knew as Smithfield Market.
I would go with her
for I had nowhere to go but with her.
The very thought of 'nowhere' now
fills my mind with the muddy puddles
I used to jump into as we walked for miles
to a place where she sold
her time absorbing, paid for hourly
and tedious labor.
A place where an elderly, sour
and sniffing man doled out
a few coins into her open hand.
A scant amount and never enough of it
for us to ride a London bus
back to where we came from.
(My uncle who has been my father’s younger brother was almost like a father to me. He began his life as a commissioned officer in the Indian Air Force. He married my mother’s sister and is connected to me from both sides)
"I carry your heart with me(I carry it in my heart)I am never without it" Quote _ by E.E. Cummings
Gone you are, but shall not be forgotten
Love you and cherish the values you sowed
Through life’s strenuous paths you have trodden
With truth and uprightness you were endowed
You sired four children, a beautiful brood
From a heart of gold doled out love and care
You showed the path and your trail they pursued
Climbing ladders of success, they did fare
Heaped not any wealth, but worked without rest
Taught your children to accept life with grace
Gave up your pleasures to give them your best
You braved your days through life's perplexing maze
Uncle, to King eternal, you have fled
In our hearts, your loving memories flood
Sept.14.2022
Lost to Heaven- My Uncle
Writing Challenges- In My Heart- S forms
Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Peace and war
Often lived here over the years
Even though initiated by the few
Tears were created between many
Relaxation and growth was the PS purpose
Yet they in themselves had to be fought for
Still, with time, peace would prevail
Offences are still doled and taken
Until all are free of mistakes so it will be
Perfection is not what brought us here, poetry is
PSing since '06 ;)
When I ruminate in trepidations forlorn,
Darkness traversed in search of dawn,
Vying fertile shores, oceans I crossed,
Nightmares that my dreams doled out;
Looking back now, how I fondly recall--
In those hardships success was born.
As I watch frigid woes glinting on snow,
Winters that melt and in rivers flow,
Parched-leaves tinting autumn’s glow,
I wonder how seasons in throes know;
Behind clouds of despair rises arc of hope.
When I spend today in tempests bygone
Brooding in defeat of conquests lost,
Yesterdays that were callously tossed;
I once again follow footsteps of the past
Imprisoning my triumphs of tomorrow
Arresting winsome ambitions of now.
Learning the lessons from where I was
I reassure anxieties perturbing my life:
Travails of turbulence won’t last long,
For a darkest night too brightens in dawn,
A rainbow forms after a storm is gone.
So, I clasp the hand of a leisurely walk
Unfettered by constant tick of time clock,
Passionately answering call of my heart
Bequeathing moments that forever last.
August 8, 2022
Placed 1st: Free Verse -Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
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