The term ‘sacrifice’ has been sacrificed
~ no longer worth its high price
The green color of the bay looks so refreshing and cold. The boats speeding across the surface of the water look fun, scary, and exciting. The sun feels warm on my skin. The boats make different sounds. The sparkly water looks magical and pretty.A sailboat is gliding over the wavy waters, heading to a new destination. Airplanes that only fly in the sky, high above land or water also head towards a new but familiar destination, to drop off the passengers that are on that plane at an airport. A gorgeous March day on Saturday has so many different places to look at and see. The wind feels wonderful, cooling your hot and sweaty body down.
Many used to tell me it's time to drop off
that's 'cause my initials say I am a DAG
This nickname occurred when these initials
were engraved on a gladstone bag
In days of yore
these comments made me glum
Because a dag is the poo that is found
sticking to the wool surrounding a sheep's bum
DAG can also mean a humorous man
can crack a joke to bring about a smile
That's me that's what I do now
I'm also modest. I do it all with style
If you are feeling rather blue
feeling rather sad feeling rather glum
Just be a happy Dag and not the one
that's sticking to a woolly bum
I want to feel the cheer of the season;
I really, really do!
All the kids are waiting for Santa to visit,
Relishing the prospect of new gifts and joy.
Sometimes they receive them, sometimes they don’t;
Sometimes they wish the sleigh would stop by,
And Santa would drop off a small gift of delight.
Some ask for light and warmth, a little glee to share,
Wrapped in a blanket of love and giggles.
Some long to forget hunger and pain, even for just a day.
We give gifts; we choose a child in need,
And try to spread the joy of the season—
But mostly, I feel the cold and the freeze.
Just look around and see—
More kids in need, more kids in pain.
My soul feels almost empty,
But some laughter fills it up.
My heart languishes often,
Longing for the missing piece that I can’t find.
Maybe I am a villain
Who can't embrace the joy.
(“I of the Beholder”, 2014, original pen and ink)
My Mind
My mind is a labyrinth
Organic with its tendrils
Flowing like a stream
Following every which-way gravity takes
Clearly without a mind of its own!
It leads me through dark places
And into the light
Yet it never lingers
As any rise in my emotion
Just causes it drop off a cliff
And then I am soaring again
Or plunging as the case may be
It matters not if it is day or night
Above or below ground, in fact
I’m not sure anything matters on its twisted way
But I can’t fault this fickle friend
It doesn’t really mean me harm
As it pushes my buttons and pulls my chain
I know, like an exuberant child or pup,
It just wants to show me what it sees with love.
(9/6/25)
With my computer in hand, out the door I dash....
To other people's doors for cash
Picking up to drop off,
Then swiftly to the next stop
Dashing, Grubhubbing, and Ubering galore,
In a sputtering economy, lent-filled pockets I really abhor
Rapacious eyes peruse desktops, tablets, and smartphones for eye-catching menus
Man's incessant search for comfort and convenience hungrily continues
Picking up to drop off,
Then swiftly to the next stop
Dashing, dashing past drive-thrus and beyond dining rooms
Now a fresh and different energy looms
A mad dash for cash
Dough dashing...
Dashing for MO'
So, out my door
I GO
To contactless drop-offs and no eye contact, all spawned from a digital transaction
Distant, yet so close, is this human interaction
A mad dash for cash
Dough dashing...
Dashing for MO'
So, out my door
I GO
In my mind skies can be blue
thoughts can turn and swirl
and take an unexpected whirl
feeling like I've consumed a witch's brew
Just when I think there'll be no end
I find the perfect spot under the sun
to drop off what feels like a megaton
and soak in that sunshine before I call a friend
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
She had enough of it. Too many people in the town treat her as if she is a house elf or below dirt. The brown eye girl feels like they are trying to push her to the limits causing her more damage. Those people keep trying her patience to where she’ll have a break down of some kind or just off on someone. The week had been tough enough on her stress levels and anxiety with her laptop breaking,ear buds being ran over and to top it off being told off as if she was a small child. What will it take for them to see the brown eye girl for who she is? It’s almost as if no matter what she does to prove herself to them all they see is what the vision they have of her. To them all she is; is her down falls what she can’t do. Asking the brown eye girl to do things for them to drop off things for them or do this job or that job. Maybe it’s time for the brown eye girl should just stay away from the users.
Clint's an iffy fellow, tis prestige vs the ordinaire, my dear plain Jane--hmm, partially accommodating.
Methinks you're a drop-off, my dear, picture a car dropping you off curbside while he goes looking for a fictitious parking space, but a gentleman he is uses the factual context of the 11th hour--OPS you to HAIL me.
I gather Mr. Eastwood was gifted said ticket, ... that I am guessing you so happened to be in pysical possession.
How did you know that? That would pleasure him of not being a CAD!
I forgot that you're like some madda carrie.
Mother who? You mean that Mother Teresa (rising popularity 1979).
No, that German one.
A German Mother Teresa? Was she young Adolph's school teacher.
Oh forget it! [LATER: she reveals "Mata Hari']"
Did he you call you and tell you, or are you playing Holmes?
Doc--tor 'tis Clint's gift?
Yes, but-- ... --wait ... it must be somebody of importance ... yes, but who?
Hehehe! It would be very rich for me, if I saw a glimpse of your face at this relevant juncture-------was I your suggested choice?
... Yes, Oh my? You're scary!
I rock in this outdoor cheap chair
Its cushion foam like ice cream
Half-eaten by the winter mice in storage
I don’t mind
Don’t need a full seat to see before me
The drop off on Torch Lake
Its fine line drawn between sky and space
So turquoise on one side black and blue on the other
Top to bottomless cliff
A mere step to reach one side from the other
If I dare walk on water
Wind carves the lake into slices of pie
Pulpy blueberry squeezes out the sides
Dragonflies bob in lilac updrafts
Broke open moments ago from their crawling lakeshore nymphs
Split open on the rocks
Their brittle wings snap in the wind
Snacks uncrinkling to a Kingfisher’s snatches
Fate born that way is hard to take
Of course many of these spindles escape to the flowers and meadows
But not all
I stand up
Boy to Dad to Grandpa
When did this happen? To survive this long?
To still hunger these many wonders?
To grow to know I am no more important
Then this oozing lake
Divided
And Memorial Day wind colliding with dragonflies and Kingfishers.
Let your tears roll free
and the stress drop off shoulders
weight of the world lifted
October 28th, 1965
Slumber party
Six preteen girls
They are telling ghost stories
They have tales of horror to share
No one will be sleeping tonight
I see a neon ghost in the corner
He puts his fingers in front of his lips
To shush me
I do not feel terrified
I feel intrigued, and excited
We discuss my future plans
After the others finally drop off to sleep
He might have been my guardian angel
I am unsure
All I know is,
That he made me feel safe and respected
Although I have never seen him again
I will never forget him
He is my hero
Encouraging me to visualize my future
don't just by
here's why
its cold time for soup bowl
its winter time keep this in mind
drop off a coat
never be meat of goal
do whats whats best
you will not regret
reaach out don't set still
give
DO THE LORDS WILL
Its quest is over.
Life's. Wholesome-faced.
At this drop off point, a world's
Sea-washed. Effaced.
Shackled by which search, a slave's
Profitless, for coin
Proved it, toward more and more
Becoming joy-rich
Now breathing freer, will ditch
What for too long chafed
Of self deceit, to the winds.
Sharpest thought-cleansing
Quiet like the sea that winks at you with caution
Until waves wash your balance in a soaking totter
Exertion in a rooted footing to snatch breaths of salty air
Steadiness holding/healing a body from the drop off of loss
To watch the setting sun, its lilt and tow of memory
careening beneath waves
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